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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Just One Mission (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Champagne’s Daughter!Reader)

Inspo: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw

Summary: Your father, Champ, runs Statesman, and you’re his best- and only- female agent. Your normal partner, Tequila, is out, leaving you with another agent. Normally this would be fine, but it’s with Whiskey, who practically ignores you, despite the fact that you’re crushing hard on him. You’re sent to the county fair to track an undercover bad guy under the guise of being a couple for your latest mission, and it starts to feel more and more like something is happening, not just between your fictional couple.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: language, obvious mentions of alcohol (this is Statesman after all)

A/N: Can I get a yeehaw for our favorite cowboy? Biggest of thank yous to @remmysbounty for helping me name this!

“You can’t be serious. Why can’t anything ever be straightforward around here? Why do I always have to go play make-believe?” You asked, pushing your glasses back up your nose to clarify his hologram. You move from where you stand, against the window showing the New York skyline, to walk towards the meeting table.

Champ gives a chuckle, as if he knows everything. Of course he does. He’s your boss and he never fails to make that known. “You came into this job knowing you’d be doing undercover work, Amaretto,” Champ says with a pointed look. You bite down on your lip to avoid cussing and look down to avoid his eyes. “Plus, you’re our best. And our only lady.”

“Whose fault is that?” you grumble, crossing your arms. Normally it doesn’t bother you much, but today you wished more women worked in the field. “Why can’t I go with Tequila? Him and I work well together, you know that,” you ask, hating your voice and your tone. You sound like a whiny teen complaining to her dad. Honestly, it was close enough, and maybe even worse: you were a fully grown woman complaining to her dad.

Your father, Champ, sighs and removes his hat. “For God’s sake, ‘Retto. Tequila’s mission has been extended. I’m sorry to tell you that Agent Whiskey will be your partner for just one mission, for one night.”

“Dad, I-”

“That’s Champ when you’re in here, Amaretto,” he chides, which makes you groan and plop down on an office chair, kicking your legs up onto the table and crossing them. “It’s a small mission. You can handle it. Whiskey’ll treat you right.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew you could handle it. You would be more than fine pretending to be Whiskey’s sweetheart for the evening. It was what came after that you didn’t want. You had known Jack for a while now, and had been hiding a crush ever since the man first entered your life.

You had been a Statesman ever since your father revealed to you that he wasn’t just the head of the Kentucky distillery- he was the head of a spy organization under the same name. Your career here hadn’t been long, but you were already proving that the skills must run in the family. You were the first female field agent, had a perfect mission record, and no unnecessary kills or injuries. That impressed Jack as much as the rest of the facility, maybe even more. You were a stunning and sharp woman with brains to match.

As much as Whiskey wanted to flirt with you, to tell you just what he thought of you, he held back. Your father held his job by a string. In order to hold back everything he thought, he kept a distance. You were the only woman in the company Whiskey didn’t flirt with. “He hates me,” you say sharply to your father, telling him what you really thought Whiskey’s opinion of you was. He complimented every woman around him, but he actively avoided you. When you had talked in the past, it was brief and he had always found an excuse to leave. How else could you take that?

“Prob’ly just jitters around the boss’s girl,” your father drawls, and you want to scream and shout and throw a temper tantrum. “Besides, you both have roles. Neither of you have to be yourself.”

Stopping you before you can launch into a rant, a knock comes at the meeting room door. You look and- speak of the devil- Whiskey peeks his head in, finding you alone in the meeting room. “Sorry. Heard ya talking, you in a meeting?”

Your father laughs as he hears the man’s voice. “Tell him to put on the glasses,” he tells you, only audible through your earpiece. You relay the message to him and once Jack’s glasses are on, he straightens a little, addressing your father. “Good to see you, Whiskey. Just telling Amaretto about the mission,” Champ tells him, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, that mission. Next week?” He asks, clarifying, eyes darting to you briefly before finding your father again.

“You got it.” A knock comes at the meeting room in Kentucky, and your father turns for a moment, then back to the two of you. “Ginger’s callin’. Talk to you later, darlin’, and you too, Whiskey.” He takes off his glasses and the image of him disappears.

You remove your legs from the table, swiveling your chair and removing your glasses. “How exciting, huh?” You ask dryly, eyes finding Whiskey’s. “The hottest week of the summer and he’s sending us to Alabama to spend a night outside.”

Jack chuckles a little, your sarcasm penetrating through the shield he has up specifically to deflect you. “At the county fair, no less. Couldn’t these idiots set up shop in a refrigerated warehouse?” He sighs, adjusting his hat.

Tearing your eyes from him, you look out of the impressive window instead. “Sure to be a fun time,” you shake your head. He looks so handsome, and it makes you want to punch something. “Why my father loves to put me in these situations, I’ll never know. He’d never do this to Julep,” you lament. “I must be the expendable kid.”

“Julep is 17,” Whiskey reminds you, raising a brow. “You’re the only one of age, and you’re probably the only competent one too. He showed me a video of Rosé at the gun range and good Lord, how the hell did a man like that birth something so clumsy?”

“Why do you know so much about my sisters?” You ask him, tilting your head.

“Your father never shuts up about ‘em. He shows them off constantly,” he shrugs. “Shows us videos, pictures. Even knew plenty about you before you came.” You raise an eyebrow at that, and he shakes his head quickly. “Barely anything personal. Hell, I don’t know your real name. He’s never called you or your sisters anything but your nicknames.”

You stand, gathering the folder you brought into the room with you. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’m not Champ’s daughter, I’m Agent Amaretto, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it,” you say, your voice slipping away from sharp and into flirtation. Whiskey’s deadpan slips into a smile and you press the folder into his chest as you walk past him, and out of the room. The smile grows wider as he turns to follow you.

Whiskey was right. It’s the hottest week of the summer, the August heat making you feel sticky and swollen, and you’re in Alabama. Disgusting. You look in the mirror and groan as you look at yourself. You were told that you and Jack need to blend into the atmosphere of the county fair, and you sighed.

The past week, the two of you had prepped for your mission, slowly melting the thick layer of ice that subdued both your crush and his flirtation. He had slowly slipped into his regular self around you, which you didn’t notice. You didn’t know the real him. You had become more of yourself too; less sharp, more smiles, even a few laughs at his terrible southern euphemisms and adages. He finally called you darlin’ and sugar and sweet thing, and you felt your face warm more than it should. You let your walls down by the time you got on the plane, joking around with him and making actual conversation. During the flight, the two of you had enjoyed picking cover names, deciding on Beau and Jolene Pruitt, a newly married couple. Both were native Alabamians with thick drawls, not that it would be out of character for Jack.

Getting to wear casual clothing around that man excited you far more than it should, and you had spent a stupid amount of time picking out something that would fit in but also look nice. The wardrobe women had packed you plenty of options to mix and match from, and you settled on something that seemed to be a mix between your cover and yourself. You wore short denim cutoffs, ripped and distressed, with cowboy boots to match. You also wore a white tank top and a red, white, and blue flannel, either to be worn open or tied around your waist. A large gold cross pendant rested on your cleavage, as many women around here similarly had. It was imperative that neither you nor Whiskey could be recognized, and you had been given a wig of thick hair the opposite of your natural color, plaited into two French braids that were long and ended around your waist. No mission was complete without your gold, wire-rimmed Statesman glasses.

You have to admit, you enjoy this look, minus the gaudy jewelry. You get to show off a little bit more than you normally would, and you secretly hope Whiskey may up his flirtation with you. You’re recognizable to someone who would know you, but the change of hair color and the glasses are a solid cover-up. You snap a picture in the mirror, sending it off to the ladies in the wardrobe department. you ladies spoil me- I love getting to look cute for a change!

The women reply a moment later with a picture of all of them. You’re always cute, sugar! Show that man what he’s missing!

So, maybe you had confided to the wardrobe ladies that you found Jack attractive. Who didn’t? They agreed, but all showered you with attention and insisted you should make a move on this mission. You had said no, but they had hounded you over and over until you told them yes. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

A knock comes at your hotel door, and you smile before you can stop yourself. You force yourself to drop it, tossing one of the braided tails over your shoulder, and open the door. “Well there, Beau,” you drawl as you see Whiskey, but you stop and laugh a little as you scan his body.

His reaction is the exact same, after a brief scan of your outfit. You both break into laughter. Jack is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel with a different pattern but the same colors- red, white, and blue. “Stealing my thunder with the outfit, I see. Are you going to put your costume on or what?” You ask teasingly, and he shakes his head.

“Believe it or not, Jolene, this is my costume. Seems the only different thing about being Beau is my name.” He grins wide at you, adjusting his similarly gold-rimmed aviators that rest beneath his classic Stetson.

You shake your head but smile. “Why am I not surprised?” You tease, turning and grabbing your phone and the large bulletproof purse you’d be carrying tonight. “The ladies in the wardrobe department are going to love this,” you chuckle, and then freeze for a second.

They did this on purpose.

Whiskey has the same thought as you. He had confided in the ladies in the wardrobe department that he found you absolutely stunning but unattainable, due to the fact that your father was the control of his… everything. They had chattered excitedly, telling him that he should make his move on the mission too. He had done the exact same as you- said yes, but as an appeasement. “Well, they sure are. We’ll have to get someone to take a picture of us while we’re there.”

You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he wants a photo of this. It’s just for the mission, of course, you tell yourself and brush it off. “Oh, and that’ll be perfect cover. Of course these two would want a photo taken of them. We can do it right in front of the marks- better yet, we can ask them to take the picture,” you chuckle happily and sling the heavy purse over your body.

“Or we can take a picture now,” he chuckles, nodding to the mirror you just took a picture in a moment ago.

“Sure,” you nod and lead him over to it. “Uh… smile?” You laugh and hold out your flannel for the photo. Jack makes finger guns and gives the camera a seductive face in the mirror, making you laugh. “Jesus, I thought you were the smooth agent.”

“Smoother than you. You’re smooth like a gravel road in a dry spell, look at that pose,” he says and zooms in on the picture. “Pose like you have some confidence in that pretty little head, honey,” he teases. “Copy me.” He makes the same pose, and you mimic it, taking a picture before bursting out laughing. “Much better,” he nods as he looks at the image. “Better send me that,” he nudges your side before walking to the door. “Well, Jo, let’s get this show on the road.” Smiling at the picture, you send the image to the wardrobe ladies. very subtle, Charlotte! You fire off before pocketing your phone and following him along. “Aw, Jo and Beau,” you coo, your personas snapping into place as soon as you leave the hotel room, clutching his arm.

The two of you meander down through the hotel, finding your way to the parking lot. You break away from him to sit in the Bronco (of course he brought it) but you find yourself missing the contact of your arms intertwined. It’s probably for the best though, you think to yourself. If you have to keep touching him all night, it’s quite possible the Alabama heat may melt whatever’s left of the iceberg you’ve built to hold back your crush on him.

A man bumps into you, and Whiskey is at your defense before you can defend yourself. “Watch it, cowboy,” Jack fires back, his hand resting on the small of your back. You smile up at him, practically making heart eyes. It looks in character, and you’re glad for that, but it’s entirely you.

“My hero,” you giggle and place your hand on his chest.

“Just for you, sugar,” he says sweetly and you beam up at him. He looks around, as you do, but the two of you rest there. It’s hot, unbearably, but yet you enjoy the contact your body makes with his. Both of you wear your flannels around your waist, allowing your grip on his arm to hold his strong muscles directly. It’s definitely enjoyable. “You hungry, honey?” He asks.

You have to admit, you haven’t eaten much today, mainly out of nerves for the mission. But everything is going just swimmingly: you have eyes on the target, have a plan to infiltrate them later, and are now just biding time to seem normal. “I… yeah, I am,” you nod and look up at him. “How ‘bout some cotton candy?”

“Now, darlin’, if you’re hungry, that ain’t gonna do the trick,” he says and raises an eyebrow, removing his aviators and hooking them on his collar. “This is the county fair, for cryin’ out loud. Let’s get you something deep fried.” You nod in agreement and the two of you wander over to a stand selling various deep-fried atrocities. You smile and chuckle, letting him order for the two of you. The vendor hands you each a ridiculously large corn dog, and you laugh.

The smell of the food makes your stomach growl. “Oh god, I didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” you moan as you bite into the food, your thick accent dropping. “Good choice, babe,” you tell him, smiling at how easily it comes.

“I know you, sugar,” he teases, leading you to a picnic table where he sits across from you, munching on his own. No one else is around here, allowing you to speak freely. “Really, I do. I found out your real name the other day,” he says with a smile, and you nearly choke on the breading, halfway down your throat. He finally says your name aloud, drawing it out, making it sound like it’s coated in honey and dripping with flirtation.

You look down at your food, biting your lip. “Who told you that?” you ask, still staring down.

Jack chuckles at that, ignoring the question. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he teases, and you chuckle, shaking your head. The flirtation is much better than the stone-cold silence before a week ago, but it doesn’t do anything for the growing crush you have on the man. “Champ must’ve known you’d be a stunner.”

“Have you heard of nominative determinism?” you ask as you look up, tilting your head and twirling one of the long braids of your wig around your finger. The words sound funny with the thick accent you’re putting on. Whiskey shakes his head. “It’s this theory that your name shapes who you become. So, if you said that my name was chosen for beauty, I would grow to become my name, so I’d be beautiful.” He nods a little at that. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” you ask him genuinely, tilting your head and taking another bite of the corn dog.

“Clearly,” he chuckles through a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “Your name is pretty, you’re pretty. Someone has a name with a bad reputation, they become it.”

“Your mama named you Jack Daniels, you become Agent Whiskey,” you tease with a growing smile, accentuating that drawl that you’ve perfectly picked up from your father and the mustached man in front of you. “I’ve thought about that a lot with you. Did they assign you that name because of your name? My dad never talked about work with us before I became an agent.”

Whiskey shakes his head at you but does give a laugh. “Prob’ly, just thought it’d be funny, I ‘spose. They needed a new Agent Whiskey anyway, I believe. Last one died or retired, they never told me. Filling the vacancy while making a pun out of it. Your father has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? ‘S sure great at givin’ nicknames.”

You shake your head at that. “Don’t I know it. He’s been calling me Amaretto since I could give him sass back. Told me I was a little bitter, just like the word means in Italian. Julep’s too sweet, Rosé is a mix of gentle and bold. No one calls us by our real names unless we’re in trouble,” you chuckle. “You should hear my mama shout when Julep gets in trouble. She nearly shakes the house, and Julep likes to avoid it by pretending she can’t hear her. She’ll hide in her room, and my mama just shouts and shouts until the neighbors come over to make sure the family’s all still alive. It’s in a loving way, of course, nothing bad.” You shake your head, clearing the topic from yourself. “But it’s like your mama knew you’d get into something with alcohol. That’s odd.”

Jack chuckles and takes the last bite of his food. He doesn’t respond, just cleans up his little area and waits for you to be done, watching you with his chin resting in his palm. You smile as you notice that, looking away, and he does too. The two of you stand and walk along again. He offers his hand, to hold it, and you take it. You’re not entirely sure that he did that as Beau, and you’re certain you didn’t take his hand as Jolene.

Walking through the midway, you catch your mark out of the corner of your eye. “Go time,” you murmur to the man, dropping his hand. “Sir,” you ask and pat the man’s shoulder as he walks past. He stops and you shoot him a cheesy, massive grin. “Hi there, would you mind takin’ a picture for my husband and I?”

The man nods. “Sure, ma’am. Where do you-”

“Oh wonderful. Here,” you say and position the man, handing him your phone, then move back to stand by Jack. “Beau, honey, here,” you say as you position the two of you for the camera. You wrap his arm around your waist and place your hand on his chest, grinning ear to ear. He’s doing the same.

“How ‘bout this?” he asks, swooping you up and holding you bridal style.

You squeal into his ear, laughing. You almost call him by his real name but stop yourself. “Beau, quit!” You giggle and smack his chest teasingly, playing along with it and smiling for the photo. He lets you down only to pick you up again, hoisting you onto his back, piggyback style. Finding no other choice, you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he rests his hands on your thighs to hold you up. “Beau Pruitt!” You exclaim, emphasizing the words, hoping that the man taking your photos registers the name, knowing it’s not someone threatening. He’d probably take your phone and run if he heard you call the man holding you up by his real name.

He finally lets you down and you thank the man, taking the phone back and continuing to walk along, naturally lacing your fingers through Jack’s. “What was that?” you ask lowly, smiling despite the pretend annoyance in your voice.

“Playin’ the part, sugar,” he shrugs and smiles at you. As you wander through the midway, Jack’s eye catches on a brightly colored, massive teddy bear hanging from the rafters. When Jack gets a plan, he goes all in. “You know what, honey, if this is to be a proper date, I am gonna win you a teddy bear,” he chuckles, grabbing his wallet.

You quickly push the hand holding his wallet down. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. I don’t need a teddy bear,” you laugh.

“I am takin’ you on a date to the county fair. It’s only fitting that I win you a teddy bear!” He argues back, laughing. He hands a bill to the attendant, earning him quite a few balls to toss at the stacked milk jugs. “Here we go. This is for the big, tie-dye one up there,” he declares before hurling a ball.

It hits the top jug and Jack winces. “Ah fuck. Bad shoulder,” he chuckles, picking up another.

“Then why the hell are you doing this, Beau?” you ask, catching yourself before you can call him Jack and holding down his arm. “I don’t need the teddy bear!”

“I already paid the attendant,” he chuckles and leans in to your face, taunting you. He uses your distraction to slip his arm from your grasp, throwing it and hitting the second row of bottles. “Hell yeah!” Jack crows excitedly, arms in the air. You laugh at his excitement and decide to let it happen. He throws three more balls before he knocks down the whole final row, whooping excitedly. “That one, if you please,” he tells the attendant and points to the large bear hanging from the ceiling of the booth. The attendant takes it down and hands it to him, and he promptly hands it to you, beaming. “For you, my dear,” he says, pride radiating from him.

“I love it,” you laugh and hug the massive bear to your chest, kissing its forehead. “I think I’ll name him… Whiskey.” He grins at that and takes your hand again, leading you through the crowd.

The rest of the night passes more like a date would than a mission. You and Jack converse happily, simply avoiding real names but talking like you would between friends. His hand rests in yours the whole night, and you enjoy it. The sun begins to go down and the humidity lessens, as does the stifling heat. It’s almost cool now; the both of you wear your flannels properly now, unbuttoned in the front. You munch contently on some cotton candy you finally convinced Jack to buy, even feeding him some to further your ruse. Sighing, you look around and take in the absolute perfection that is this tiny county fair. The sunset is beautiful and the lights of the carnival section are starting to come on. You start to speak until you hear a too-familiar voice through your earpiece.

“Amaretto, Whiskey. They set up shop in the pig barn, but they’re at their most vulnerable. Time to move.” You both groan as you hear your father’s voice. You look down at your interlocked hands between the two of you, then up quickly, remembering. Your father can see what you see with these glasses on. His voice comes in through your earpiece alone now. “See, I told ya it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a little time with Whiskey. I’ve noticed you’re not hating it.”

You shake your head and pull out your earpiece, tucking it in your pocket and murmuring a curse to your father. Jack notices and you simply shrug. “Wasn’t working right. You’re gonna have to relay the messages for me.”

He nods then pauses, listening. He chuckles and turns to you. “He says to put it back in, he knows you can hear him just fine.” You groan and put it back in with a frown. “Next time you want to have family dinner, count on one less plate,” you hiss through the piece, making both Jack and your father laugh. “Whatever, get us to the pig barn then.” Your father guides the two of you through your mission. They’re indeed at their weakest, just four men loading their van with their backs to you. Luckily, they’re the four that Statesman wants. You and Whiskey each easily take out two, leaving them tranquilized on the ground. “Pops, they’re good. Send in the recon van.” A few moments later, the van rushes in through the utility door, and two recon members load the men into the van. You and Whiskey give them a nod, smiling at them and thanking them before leaving the barn.

The voice comes through on just your earpiece again. “Take the rest of the night off. I know you want to.”

He’s right, you do want to, and so for once, you listen to your damn father. “The rest of the night is up to us,” you say as you turn to Whiskey, removing your earpiece and your glasses and putting them in your bag. You reach for his earpiece, taking it out too, both of you almost shivering at the contact of your wrist to his cheek as you take it out. Jack catches your palm and plants a kiss to it and you grin. “Would you like to stick around, maybe go on some rides?” you ask and put away his earpiece before sliding your hand into his. “As Whiskey and Amaretto?”

Jack grins at you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The rest of the evening is spent on rides and eating ice cream, getting squished into Jack’s side on the Scrambler and flipped around on the Slingshot. You both laugh practically all night, overjoyed. You check your watch and look up excitedly, eyes lighting. “The fireworks are gonna go off in ten minutes.” You look at the wait for the ferris wheel- it’s about as long. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel to watch it.”

Jack nods. “Whatever you say, sugar,” he nods, lagging for a moment as you start to run to the next ride, then catching up and pulling you into his chest, kissing your head. You laugh at the feeling of being trapped in his arms and wrap your arms around him too, allowing the bear hug to last a moment longer than it should.

The both of you wait in line for a few minutes, continuing the conversation you’d been having before.

The line eventually shortens enough for the two of you to get on, and you sit, hands on the lap bar. Whiskey sits next to you, draping his arm across your shoulders. You look up at him and smile, scooting into his side. You give a little whoop of excitement as the ride starts moving, and you jump at a loud bang.

You timed it perfectly.

The sky lights with different colors, a variety of fireworks lighting off and illuminating the dark night sky. The stars are clear all the way out here, in the middle of Alabama, and you beam at the image. You pull out your phone to snap some pictures but Jack holds your hand down. “The pictures never do it justice, darlin’. Just look up at those and remember ‘em real hard.” Laughing softly, you rest your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watch. It’s stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and you look at Jack for a moment to find he’s not watching the sky, but has his eyes trained on your face, watching your reaction.

The moment is perfect. He can handle the rejection, he decides, if he has to, but he has to move now. “Can I kiss you, Amaretto?” He murmurs quietly, his face already moving close to yours. You give an answer in the form of a gesture: taking his face in your hands and closing the gap. The kiss is perfect, his soft lips tasting of the cotton candy you finally persuaded him to buy a few hours ago.

He sighs softly, his hand finding the side of your face as well. He breaks away for a moment and looks at your lovely face, grinning at the way your eyes reflect only his face, the dark night sky, and the colorful fireworks. “I think your pops named you wrong. Furthest thing from bitter. You’re the sweetest, most perfect thing I ever did taste,” he drawls before closing the space again, pressing his lips to yours. Your heart pounds in time with the bursts in the sky, erratic and loud, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve been crushing on since the moment your father introduced you to the Statesman.

A particularly loud firework startles you and you jump, breaking your kiss and grinning at him, the adrenaline from both the scare and the kiss pounding its way through your body. You look at him and want to say something but can’t find the words. You simply giggle and look into his eyes, making him laugh too. You sit there for a moment, laughing, while the ferris wheel stays stationary. As it moves, you cling to his chest again, looking up and beaming at him. “Kiss me again, cowboy,” you demand, and he chuckles.

“Any time, sugar,” he says with a smile as he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you again.

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent jack daniels x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels #kingsman: the golden circle #agent jack daniels #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #i am a simp #agent whiskey

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kim-miri · 3 years

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HALF(have a little fun) pt. ix

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part nine / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence, minor angst

» a/n: short chapter D:! edit: i’ve tried and tried but it just doesn’t flow right when i try to make this into an x reader:// HALF will be an oc fic and i’ve decided to cut the backstory here;( thanks for the love and support!

» word count: 2,494

☾ix. pt. ix: youth

3 months later

Loud, bass-bumping music and too many flashing lights fueled the exhilaration and excitement of one of the biggest night clubs in Yorknew City.

Sayomi had defeated her second opponent on the 200th floor with the help of Hisoka’s training earlier today, making this little outing a sad excuse for a celebration.

In reality, Hisoka just wanted to see whether Sayomi could dance or not.

He had insisted they go out and experience the nightlife the city had to offer, and with Sayomi still upbeat from her match, they found themselves sneaking into Octagon- a hip club located in the heart of Yorknew City.

Though technically Hisoka was 21 and therefore could have gone about this in an easier way, he insisted they sneak in ‘just for the fun of it’. The truth was that he’d been kicked out of the club previously after using his ‘magic tricks’ to make people’s arms disappear, but it made his intrusion all the more fun.

As Hisoka watched the floor from his spot at the bar with a drink held loosely in one hand, Sayomi was currently lost in a crowd of passionate clubbers, her violet eyes gleaming with the thrill of the environment.

The black and silver dress she wore highlighted her figure as well as electrifying eyes and hair, the metallic material dazzling under the club lights as she lost herself in the music and people.

She was letting herself go for the night like she often did on her chaotic trips to the city with Hisoka. Free from repressive parents or a fight for her life, Sayomi was at peace with her new life, expressing herself however she wanted to.

Draining the rest of his Cosmopolitan, Hisoka’s eyes shifted to the young assassin, his face remaining expressionless as he watched her draw a crowd with her alluring glow.

He’d been staring so intensely he didn’t even notice a man take the seat next to him. The sound of the man’s voice established his presence, yet Hisoka’s line of sight ceased to drift from the girl with the bright silver hair.

“A stunner isn’t she?”

Hisoka blinked slowly, hardly registering the man’s words. A stunner indeed, but what more? “A pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty soul.”

The man laughed, setting his drink down on the bar to face Hisoka. “I take it she isn’t yours then? That’s a relief.”

Hisoka rested his chin in the palm of one of his finely manicured hands, his other tapping on the smooth surface of the bar impatiently. He couldn’t seem to figure out why his bloodlust was seeping through as he followed Sayomi with his eyes.

His? She could never belong to any man, she was her own person.

“Careful with your words there, I’d hate for them to be your last.” His words were venomous, filled with the intent to kill.

Hisoka’s nails had cut through the skin of his own cheek, his other hand clenched into a fist on the bar’s surface.

The man had shifted away from him, quietly taking his leave as he watched crimson seep down Hisoka’s pale fingers.

Over the past 3 months, he’d been able to fight her more than enough times, and now he no longer felt the same intoxicating feeling when he was with her. Sayomi never fought Hisoka to hurt him, only with the intentions of improving her own skills, which in turn left Hisoka aching for more.

However, as the days progressed he was slowly coming to the conclusion that the Zoldyck girl had an undeniable flaw. She doesn’t put up a fight when I’m with her.

He was losing interest in the girl who’d once swayed his unshakable feelings, and it distressed him that he almost felt bad for wanting to leave her behind.

His sharpened fingernails dug farther into the pale skin of his cheek as he watched Sayomi throw her slender arms around a man she’d only just met.

She was laughing and smiling, her silky voice seeming to reach his ears through the music and cheers from where he sat. Loud and clear, the sound of her laughter rang through Hisoka’s head in an almost painful way.

She was becoming a weakness to the man who believed himself to be the strongest, and that didn’t sit right with him at all.

☾ix.

Sayomi wasn’t too sure of what exactly it was that she felt towards Hisoka.

When he took her to dinner with an amazing view or complimented her progress with training, she couldn’t tell whether it was her lack of social contact or actual feelings that led her heart to race when she saw his face.

It didn’t help that on some days she could notice the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, only to leave her heart stinging with his harsh words on other days.

He was taking mixed signals to the next level, playing with her feelings while he was trying to figure out his own.

It was selfish and cruel, falsely gaining the trust of someone who’d been through so much betrayal, all for his own entertainment.

But that was just who Hisoka was, he didn’t care for distractions or hindrances. And as fast as he’d first fallen for the young assassin, he was already in the process of making himself forget her.

He was moving on.

☾ix.

3 months later

It was the day after Sayomi’s 7th match on the 200th floor of Heaven’s Arena. She’d been scheduling her fights randomly, with no regard for who her opponents would be.

With 7 wins under her name, she only needed 3 more to challenge a floor master.

However, with her longtime goal fast approaching, she wasn’t as happy as she thought she’d be.

It’d been about half a year since Sayomi had first met Hisoka, and all the excitement and jitters about spending time alone with a guy had died down.

It’d also helped that for some reason Hisoka was rather occupied recently. He rarely took her out to the city, claiming he had other business to attend to, and when they did go out, he’d always turn in first mumbling that he was tired.

Sayomi was no fool, she knew that Hisoka was either losing interest in her as well or felt his job was almost through. To herself, she hoped that it was the former, for it would hurt less than to find out he’d only been around her for business purposes.

Regardless, Sayomi’s current situation was puzzling. She stood waiting for what seemed like forever in front of Hisoka’s room, ready to go out and train.

However, after knocking more than enough times and even calling his cell, there was no sign of her trainer.

That’s odd.

Sayomi trained on her own that day, taking it upon herself to get strength training in at the gym.

It was the first time she’d spent an entire day without Hisoka since they’d started training. Deciding that he was out on his so-called ‘business’, Sayomi shrugged away his absence, going to sleep early for the first time in a while.

Yet, another day passed with no sign of the magician, and Sayomi began to grow concerned for his well-being. What if he was picked off by someone? No, he’s too strong to lose to anyone here… Did he pass out in his room?

Sayomi walked briskly to Hisoka’s room with a worried mind.

Once again there was no response to her knocking, and she decided she’d break into the room.

Using one of her longer needles, she picked the lock in no time, stepping into the unfamiliar room.

It was empty. Only the faint smell of bubble gum and something sweet lingered in the abandoned room, the closet and space empty.

There was a note left on the cleanly made bed, the red ink standing out from the otherwise white sheets surrounding the note.

That lazy ass, of course he’d leave a note in his own room.

Picking up the sheet, she read:

Zoldyck-

It’s about time you sneak into my room, I know you’ve thought about doing it before;)

But jokes aside…

I’m sorry, darling.

It’s not like me to apologize(you can ask Kite)and that alone scared me, because I feel like you’ve changed me. Your smile and intoxicating eyes make me weak in the knees…

And I despise myself for it.

I’m not sure why I’ve chosen to expose my faults to you, for that just makes you all the more dangerous to me.

But perhaps I want you to hold my weaknesses, and perhaps I’d like to see you come tear me apart. Yes, that must be it.

I’ve departed Yorknew City to meet up with your twin brother, as it seems as though he’s been searching for you. And perhaps I should have taken him to you instead, but I’m not, because when the time is right I’d like you all to myself.

So don’t forgive me, Sayomi. Resent me, grow stronger, and when the time comes I’ll bring your brother back to you.

Ah, and there is one thing I’d always wanted to tell you…

I always thought that you were most beautiful when you showed your true colors-

A cold-blooded, cold-hearted Zoldyck assassin with no regard for the pain and suffering of your victims.

Stop holding yourself back, people like us can be forgiven for our sins because of the hell we’ve been put through.

-Hisoka

☾ix.

A single tear rolled down Sayomi’s cheek.

And that was all.

The flurry of sudden information rendered Sayomi breathless as she tried to make sense of his words.

This idiot really just admitted his feelings for me after all this time right when he decides to leave me here. Selfish bastard.

And he knows Illumi… but how? Illumi was looking for me?

I have to become a floor master and get that clown to bring my brother back.

☾ix.

6 months later

Sayomi gazed out her window with a blank stare, 241 floors above the ground.

Just a week ago she’d claimed her spot on the 241st floor as the newest and youngest Floor Master at age 19.

She knew Hisoka would find out about her achievement soon, and all she could do now was wait.

Up until defeating and killing her last opponent, time had flown by easily. She was fueled by the goal of finding her brother and confronting Hisoka, but now that she was here, the loneliness began to sink in.

Kite and his student had taken off to another country in search of wildlife to study, leaving Sayomi all alone in Yorknew City.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of her situation. Here she was at the top of the tallest building in Yorknew City, a place that others died trying to get to, yet she was unsatisfied.

Her face and name were plastered on billboards and posters all throughout the city, and citizens stood envious of the young teen’s life. She had enough money that she’d never have to work another day in her life, but in exchange she no longer had a family to accept her nor friends to laugh with.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself, there’s plenty of others that have it worse.

Sayomi sighed as she turned away from the window, grabbing her mask she’d started using as a floor master to attempt to conceal her identity.

I won’t have challengers for another month or so… might as well hit the city.

☾ix.

Sayomi walked through the dark streets of Yorknew City, her hands clasped behind her head and her eyes vacant.

She didn’t have a destination in mind, just mindlessly strolling through the city covered with news of her promotion to Floor Master. There were citizens recognizing her as well, pointing and jumping back as if she were some monster.

Though she couldn’t blame them, as her nen happened to be on the disturbing side. The replays of her fights were mostly censored, deemed too inhumane for the public eye as they played on repeat on the sides of buildings,

She wasn’t too sure how far she’d walked, spotting Heaven’s Arena rather far in the distance behind her. The shops and glamorous hotels began to fade as she approached the run down parts of Yorknew City.

It was an abandoned lot of buildings, the ground littered with oil cans and shattered glass. In a way it was tranquil, free from angry drivers and the revolted gaze of commoners.

Walking through an opening in the wired fences that surrounded the lot, Sayomi wandered through a certain building that’d caught her eye.

She felt a faint aura coming from the abandoned office building, but oddly enough it wasn’t hostile or repelling. It was rather comforting.

Sayomi’s curiosity grew as the aura increased, drawing her towards the room located at the far end of the first floor.

She saw the man before she sensed him, his large coat catching her attention. His back was turned to her crouched down on the dusty floor, the windows adjacent to him shattered, letting the pale moonlight reflect off of his coat.

St. Peter’s cross. Interesting taste in fashion…

Another careless step closer and the man’s head turned abruptly in her direction. Sayomi had ducked behind a wall, but not fast enough.

The man stood from his spot, revealing a vibrant patch of violets by his feet. Upon his loss in concentration, the flowers wilted, withering back into the cluttered floor as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Sayomi could see the man’s face from where she crouched, hidden by a barely intact wall. Her heart skipped a beat upon meeting his eyes, deep gray and captivating as he easily identified her from her hiding spot.

It felt as if time was frozen in place, the young man staring intensely into Sayomi’s eyes as if he could read her mind.

Sayomi was unmoving as well, having been caught examining his figure from behind the wall. He was by far the most appealing man she’d ever seen, his dark, raven hair slicked back to reveal a tattoo decorating the middle of his forehead, contrasting with his gentle eyes and youthful facial features.

Handsome, she thought.

The man took a slight step forward, snapping Sayomi out of his hypnotizing gaze as she sped off jumping through an empty window and out of the building.

Though she was eager to know what he’d been doing with the flowers, his aura had changed when he’d noticed her watching. It had been dangerous and intense, a total opposite of his warm and placid one when dealing with the violets.

Her quick steps transitioned into a run, feeling the need to distance herself from the lingering intensity of the mysterious young man’s aura.

She ran back towards the towering building of Heaven’s Arena, not stopping her pace a bit until she was met with the familiar neon signs and billboards that surrounded the heart of Yorknew City.

Her dreams were taken over by the man’s captivating eyes that night. His familiar aura had seemed to beckon her to him, as if she’d known him for 100 years prior.

But no matter how hard she thought that night, she couldn’t come up with an answer as to what he’d been doing with the violets conjured by his feet.

In her dreams she saw her own eyes within the vibrant flowers, it was an abstract thought, though for a second she wondered if he had meant for her to see them.

She quickly dismissed this, however, scoffing at the absurdity of her own thoughts.

What am I, a child? I must be beyond lonely if I think some random guy has something to do with me.

Though deep down inside her heart, she wished it were true. To be fated to somebody, needed by somebody who she could trust with her darkest secrets and love.

☾ix.

to be continued.

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justabstractthings · 4 years

Text

“With hard work” | Todoroki x F!Reader

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x Female! Reader

Warnings: None!

A/N: Honestly, I was having soft domestic feels all day and this is the product. I honestly need more domestic Todoroki in my life. Should I start a domestic series? Maybe? Most likely? I just love domestic fics so much!!! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!!!! I forgot to add! Todoroki and reader are aged up because yeah!

Word Count: 1.9k

When you told Todoroki you were pregnant, his reaction was… Todoroki.

You weren’t surprised at all. You’ve known your husband for years. You knew about his unfortunate childhood. The abusive father. The broken mother. The lost brother. It left him emotionally stunted. Understandably so, but he was healing.

He was still the confident, arrogant, observant, and caring man that you fell in love with. But when it came to huge milestones such as the pregnancy announcement of his first child, he reacted as Todoroki would.

Blank stare. Quick nod. Pat on the head.

You found out you were pregnant a few minutes ago. A few days of feeling nauseous and the constant teasing of your sister-in-law caused you to go to the convenience store and purchase a pregnancy test. Which is where you found yourself sitting across your husband during breakfast with the test right in front of him.

You watched with a smile on your face. Todoroki was in the middle of eating breakfast, mouth wide open and a spoonful of rice hanging in the air. It was quite humorous. You rested your cheek on your knuckle as you patiently waited for your husband.

In succession, Todoroki robotically closed his mouth, placed the spoon down, pushed his chair away from the table, got up from his seat, walked to you, patted you on the head, and walked out of the door.

You weren’t surprised at all.You could have planned a big, grand gesture and his reaction would be the same either way. You expected this. Were you upset? Maybe a bit. You’ve been buzzing with excitement all morning. But you also knew, it would take a while for your husband to digest the big news. He would come talk to you when he was ready.

However, there were other people that you wanted to share the news with too. Particularly, your in-laws. You called Fuyumi and planned a girls’ day with her and Rei. This was the kind of family that constantly needed good news. Especially the biggest good news of all.

You met the Todoroki ladies at a small tea shop that you’ve frequented with them when you and Todoroki started dating. It was a small, cozy corner shop with such a calming atmosphere. You thought it would be the perfect spot to tell your mother- and sister-in-law.

While you were sitting at the back of the shop with your chamomile tea, you could feel your pulse racing. You were more nervous about telling your mother- and sister-in-law than your husband. Maybe you should have gotten a different kind of tea with a stronger calming effect. Chamomile tea was not doing it for you.

When you heard the light ring of the door opening, your head shot up. In walked the most graceful women you had the pleasure of knowing. You stood up from your seat and met Fuyumi and Rei in the middle of the shop.

“Fuyumi, Rei. It’s so nice to see you again.” You welcomed their hugs and ushered them to your table at the back of the store.

After the Todoroki ladies settled in and gave their orders, Fuyumi didn’t hesitate to ask you. “So, little sister, any reason why you wanted to see mother and I today?” Even if she tried, Fuyumi could not hide the mischievous grin on her face. She always did have a sixth sense for family matters especially since she grew up with brothers.

You took a sip of your tea and cleared your throat. “Well… um… how do I say this?” You nervously tapped your finger on your cup. You focused on the golden brown tea nestled between your hands.

Rei softly smiled at you and placed a reassuring hand on your own to stop your nervous jitter. “You can tell us, sweetie.”

You took a deep breath and slowly let it out before looking up at the Todoroki women. Matching gray eyes looked at you expectantly. “I’m pregnant,” you said bluntly.

If it were any other situation, you would have laughed until tea shot out of your nose. Now you know where Todoroki got his speechless stare. Rei and Fuyumi gave you the same blank stare as your husband gave you this morning. It was uncanny. But it was a little unnerving considering this was your mother- and sister-in-law.

Fuyumi was the first to break the silence. She jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around you. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” You joined in her laughter as you returned her hug. “I’m going to be an aunt!”

“I-I’m going to be a grandmother?” Rei hesitantly asked. When Fuyumi released you, you smiled softly at Rei and nodded your head.

The first time you saw Rei’s beautiful and radiant smile was on the day of your wedding. Now you’re seeing it for the second time as she wiped a few tears from her eyes. You got up from your seat and pulled Rei into a hug.

“You’re going to be a grandmother.”

Rei’s arms tightened around you as she joyfully said how happy she was for you and her son and how excited she was to have a new baby in the family.

After sharing the big announcement, the Todoroki ladies decided on a quick shopping trip. For baby stuff, of course. You tried to convince them but it was too early, but you could never say no to Rei when she flashed her sad eyes. So, you spent the rest of the day going from one store to the next and letting the ladies buy everything that they wanted for the baby. In moderation, of course.

As much as you loved buying baby stuff with your in-laws, you wanted to have that experience with your husband too. You were definitely looking forward to his blunt statements as you both learned about the early stages of parenthood together.

It was almost sunset when you returned to the home you shared with Todoroki. You had four shopping bags full of baby and pregnancy stuff that Rei and Fuyumi swear that you need.

Before you could unlock the door, it swung open to reveal your handsome husband staring down at you. He gave you a soft smile and leaned down for a quick kiss as he simultaneously grabbed the bags out of your hands.

“How was your day, Sho?” you asked as you took your shoes off and followed your husband into the living room. You smiled as you happily plopped down on the couch. Do pregnant women get this tired after a day of shopping?

Todoroki joined you on the couch and immediately pulled you into his lap. “It was good. I was busy the whole day.”

You hummed as Todoroki began to leave butterfly kisses along your face and neck. You giggled when he focused his kisses on your cheeks and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reluctantly pulled away from your husband’s kisses to grab his cheeks and pull him into a deep kiss.

The butterflies never stopped even after years of dating and marriage. Todoroki never failed to make your heart skip every time he gave you a hot searing kiss. You swear you always get lightheaded after kissing your husband. It really didn’t help when his hands started roaming around your body in all the right places.

You buried your head under Todoroki’s chin. You always felt so relaxed when you breath in Todoroki’s minty aftershave and felt the coolness of his right side. It especially helped when Todoroki ran his fingers through your hair. Just like he was doing now.

“So, you’re pregnant?” Todoroki asked as he placed a light kiss on your head.

You hummed in agreement. “You’re going to be a dad.”

Todoroki’s fingers stopped for just a second until you felt his arms wrap around you in a tight hug. You smiled as you felt your husband’s steady heart. Strong and true, just like him. Even with your face buried in his chest, Todoroki didn’t stop placing kisses on your head and declaring how happy he was and how much he loved you.

After a few minutes of holding each other, Todoroki pulled away from you and said, “Come on. I want to show you something.”

You left the comfort of your husband’s lap as he softly grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the hallway. “Close your eyes.” You immediately shut your eyes as Todoroki carefully guided you through your shared home.

You could hear him open the door and flinched when his hot and cold hands covered your eyes. You felt his strong chest against your back as he guided you into the room (you guessed it was a room).

“Are you ready, love?” Todoroki whispered into your ear. It sent a shiver up your spine, but you nodded nonetheless.

When Todoroki pulled his hands away from your eyes, you had to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust to the lighting. But when it did, you gasped. You covered your mouth in shock while you tried to keep yourself from crying right in front of your husband.

What was once an empty room had been transformed into the perfect baby room for the future Todoroki. The walls were painted a soft gray color. One of the walls had white stars painted on them. Soft floor mats crunched under your feet as you explored the nursery room. You smiled as you ran your hand along the baby crib and noticed the blanket that Rei bought for you this afternoon placed neatly on it. You couldn’t hide the grin on your face when you recognized the few soft toys that were placed neatly against the shelf. There was Shoto, Deku, Uravity, Ingenium, and even Ground Zero.

Every little detail was perfect. Your heart soared as you imagined raising a baby in this very room with the loving husband that was smiling softly at you from the doorway.

“How did you do this in just one day?”

Todoroki gave you another blank stare.

“With hard work.”

Todoroki smiled as he listened to your melodic laughter fill the room. He watched as you looked at every little detail in the room. All the while he looked at your still flat stomach, already imagining the little life that is growing inside you.

When he found out this morning, he didn’t know what to say or do. He was not trained to be a father. He also didn’t have much of a role model to begin with. So, Todoroki decided that he needed to think. He needed to think about what to say to you. He needed to think about what all of this meant. He needed to think about what kind of a father we would be.

After walking aimlessly, he found himself in a store full of baby items. He immediately set out to work and bought everything he needed. Like he said, he worked hard while you were away for the day in order to surprise you.

While Todoroki may not be the best with words, he felt that his actions would be conveyed the loudest. You always understood that. You were always patient with him. Todoroki would be damned if he can’t show you how excited he was to be a father.

Todoroki strided into the room and pulled you into another deep kiss. He had to keep a strong arm around your waist to keep you from falling back. He could feel you wrap your arms around his neck as you pulled him even deeper, if that was possible.

You pulled away with a gasp and stared lovingly into your husband’s eyes. “We’re going to be parents,” you grinned at him.

Todoroki hummed in agreement. “We’re going to be parents.”

#bnhabookclub #my writing #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki fic #todoroki domestic #todoroki fluff #todoroki imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #domestic todoroki #domestic fluff #fluff #domestic #just abstract things

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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years

Text

Charmed | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Just to clarify, this is written with Peter being 18+

Requested by: @headmastermephistopheles

Request: Could I request a peter parker x a playerish stark male reader? where the reader used to have a lot of guys and girls at his feet but when he moves to his fathers place , his bold honesty and charming charisma makes peter fall hard for him like super hard. Smut if possible ! I adore peter parker and you're amazing at writing about him so thank you for all the stories!

Words: 4468

Warning: Smut

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

"Captain." Extending a hand towards Steve. "Good seeing you again."

"Likewise, (Y/N)." Receiving a firm handshake in return. "You do know, you can call me Steve? Right?" Giving you a kind smile.

"I do. But I respect your rank." Giving him a salute. "And your service."

"You really do have the charm of your father." Patting you on the shoulder.

"Don't let him hear that. But thanks, Captain."

You hear him chuckle a little. "Enjoy your stay here." As he holds the door open for you. "If there's anything I can do, please do come by."

"I'll find my way. Thank you." Walking down the hall, you pass all sorts of the nametags of Avengers. The doors were quite far apart from each other. So the rooms had to be huge, you wonder. You can't help but chuckle to yourself as you walk these halls. Being Tony's son does mean having certain perks. You just seem so terribly out of place. Seeing you're far from an Avenger. No superpowers. Or special abilities. No suit of armor.

Although you've heard some things about a certain security and safety protocol. Making the chance very likely that there was a suit of armor with your name on it. But you wouldn’t jump into one out of free will. Absolutely not.

After finishing your studies. Going abroad, traveling the world, you naturally rolled into working for Stark Industries while exploring the many wonders of the world. You eventually end up here. In the Avengers tower.

A welcoming 'committee' awaited your arrival. With most of the Avengers present, you catch up with them. You've known them for almost your entire life. Growing up with Tony meant having the Avengers in the background. They were all kind and friendly to you. And you experienced the highs and lows as well. Although from the sideline. You looked up to them. To their work. Their loyalty and service to the world. An incredible burden.

With a bag slung over your shoulder, you set out for your room. Tony had everything arranged ahead. Luggage moved in. Redesigned the interior. Knowing him, he probably overdid himself again. Going complete overboard with everything. But finding the room was another thing. It's been years since you've been here. Even the tower itself had an extensive rebuild. Feeling your phone buzzing, on the verge of picking up. Your eyes spot someone at the elevator. Rocking back and forth on the heels of his foot. Eyes plastered to his phone.

"Spiderboy!" You jokingly call him, laying your hand on his shoulder.

"Wha-! Wow." He jump scares almost a feet away from you. "H-Hey!" Cracking a smile on his face as he realizes who you were. "(Y/N)"

"I'm sorry." You smiled, reaching him a hand. "You must be Peter."

"Parker… P-Peter Parker." Shaking your hand, looking at you with big eyes. "Nice meeting you."

"Likewise, Peter." Silencing your buzzing phone. "I'm (Y/N), but you already knew that." You smile. "I've heard a lot about you, Peter. Tony is ecstatic about you."

"Are you k-…? Really?!"

"Yeah, Tony’s quick with words, but slow with feelings and such. But he honestly adores you. You have to see through his jokes and sarcasm."

Peter only nods, clamping his laptop under his other arm. Readjusting the bag on his shoulder. Listening carefully to every word you say.

"Sarcasm and wittiness isn't always the right approach, you know." Both of your attention gets drawn to the lift doors closing. "Sorry, buddy, but you just missed your ride."

"It's fine. Don't worry." He smiled. "Bus won't be here in 32 minutes."

"So, do you live in the tower as well?" Pressing the elevator button for Peter. As he's too occupied listening to you.

"N-No, I… eh live with my aunt downtown."

"How nice." Sounding a bit too bitter to your liking. You just wish he lived here. Being able to spend some time with someone your age, instead of all the 'older' Avengers. "You're heading there right now?"

He nods quickly. "You?"

"Well, I'll be fair to you." Leaning into him, as if you're going to reveal a big secret. "I was on my way to my room. But I can't find it." Scratching the back of your head.

"I know where it is." He lively springs into action.

"Wonderful, could you show me?"

"This way." He beamed, proudly walking in front of you. Occasionally glancing over his shoulder.

"So… Anything big happening here at the weekends?"

"Not much. From time to time, the Avengers share a drink on the top floor. But things are calm these days." He stops at a door with your name on it. You caught yourself to not paying any attention to the route Peter took. Not where it was located opposite to the previously seen rooms.

"Thank you, Peter." Unlocking the room. Hanging your coat beside the door. Peter looking on, staring into the room. Large pane windows, pretty much the same as Tony's own room. Luxuries and grand.

"Oh, well then. I better be going." Checking the time on his phone. "See you around."

"Peter." You call out to him, "What will you be doing this weekend?" Taking your place against the doorpost. Sheathing your hands in your pockets.

"M-Me?" He stutters, completely caught off guard by your question. You notice he's avoiding your eye contact the whole time. A blush coloring his cheeks. Staring down the hallway. "I… ehm."

"Attending any parties?"

"No-No-No, I'm not much of a party going type. Do you want to go to a party?"

"I prefer not to." You confess. "I was hoping to do something with you."

"Okay, okay." His smile growing wider and wider. "What are you thinking of?"

"I dunno. What do you usually do on the weekend?" You return the question. From this distance, you could almost hear his brain. "Except for saving the city as Spiderman, of course." Shooting him a playful wink.

Peter's face shoots bright red. With his hand, he rubs his cheeks and mouth, trying to hide his glowing red face.

"Here." Handing him your business card. "Think about it. If you don't want-..."

"Of course, I want to. But, I...ehm am running late." Glancing at his wrist while he definitely wore no watch. Starting to walk off.

"You know where to find me." You sniffle and wave him goodbye.

"Bye, mister Sta-... (Y/N)! Storming around the corner. Noticing his happy skip jump as he races off towards the elevator. You can't help but smile at his cuteness. It was only a few minutes ago he guided you to your room. His bus wasn't due to arrive in more than 25 minutes, you guess. You let him have his moment. He looked so nervous. You have to admit, you experience a bit of nerve and flutters in your stomach as well.

You spend the rest of the evening in the lounge area with a couple of Avengers. Sharing a few beers, hearing their stories, and play some games. Your phone was never quiet, but tonight you had to check every single notification. Peter still prominently present in the back of your mind. Eagerly awaiting his message.

Your heart skipped a beat, seeing his name pop up on your screen. The fact you had Peter's number already in your phone, gave away the illusion you had no interest in him. You heard the stories about Peter. You had seen the pictures. You didn’t fool yourself. And Tony didn’t lock any of his computers around the house either, so you fished Peter’s number out of there with ease. His profile picture enough to give you the jitters.

Peter was way more talkative via messenger. The conversation lasting long into the evening. Chatting about anything, really. Of course, a Spiderman patrol selfie to top it off. In the end, you set the date. Not like a date. With romance and all that. None of it. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. Tomorrow he’s coming over, and together you've decided to call it a movie night. That's what he usually does on Saturday’s he said. So that’s what it was. Not at his aunt’s house. Not in the lounge. In your room. And for the first, in a long time, you’re feeling actual nervous.

The next day, just around the clock of six in the evening, your watch signals you that Peter had entered the building. All those handy tech bits came off good use. Apparently, you could set a notification as soon as a biometric scan noticed a specific person entering the building. And yes, Tony had given you a witty remark for only checking Peter’s box. But who’s to blame. He designed the system in the first place. For that remark, he didn’t have an answer at the ready.

“You look nice.” Peter murmured, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. Scrapping his voice a little.

“Thanks.” You give him a kind smile. “You too. Classy.” You compliment him. “Come in, make yourself at home.” Peter again takes in the room after a few steps in, looking in awe at the view and luxuries interior. Modern and spacious. But also a tad bit too large for a person your age.

"Dressed for something special?" He has a slight stutter to his voice. "A party?"

"It's pretty much the same as yesterday, I believe." Checking your clothing, as if there's something off. “But to answer your question. No. No parties. I don’t like them that much.”

“But you’ve partied almost everywhere across the world. If I can believe the pictures…”

“You right. But the thing is, you’re invited by influential people because of your name. You're more of a statement. Doesn't make it as entertaining as it looks."

"Why don't you decline them? Be honest about it. They get pretty wild, I've heard." His face coloring red at the thought.

"Sometimes, there's more at stake than what I want at the moment." You sigh, raking your fingers through your hair. "Oh well. I've ordered pizza in." Trying to shift the attention of the conversation. Getting a thumbs up from him as he connects his laptop. “Beer?”

"Yes, please." He kindly nods, looking up from his laptop.

"Peter, you don't have to say please for everything." Patting him on his shoulder. Seating yourself beside him on the couch. "Cheers, buddy." Ringing your bottle against his.

You see a surprising look, turn into a broad smile. "C-Cheers."

The couch was surprisingly large, especially for the two of you. How you wished you could crawl against him. Your thoughts often drift away from the movie you were watching. You and Peter falling in conversations about anything. Absolutely anything. He was smart, really smart. Had an interest in loads of things. Shared a lot of interests with you.

His body language changed visibly during the course kf the evening. As soon as his shoes came off, making himself really comfortable on the couch, you knew he felt at home. Making remarks, and funny jokes about anything and anyone. You’re drawn to each other. There was no other way to describe it. Your moments of eye contact were uneasy at the beginning. Especially for him. But that changed the later the evening progressed. Not one moment of silence dropped into the conversation. Peter told his stories. His experiences with becoming a member of the Avengers. Tales about Tony. But was interested in your stories, worries, and concerns. Peter was a damn good listener. You had to excuse yourself to Peter for a moment and step into the room nearby. For most of the evening, you've been pressing calls away. But not this one. In all, it takes not more than ten minutes before returning.

“Sorry, European client.” You excuse yourself. “Time zones and all that.” Seating yourself beside him again. Laying your arm to rest on the back of the couch. All comfortable and relaxed.

“I couldn’t understand a single word you were saying.” He giggles. "But it sounded kinda funny."

“It's the Dutch language. It's strange in their own unique ways. I'll teach you the basics sometime. Could come in handy someday."

“Awesome. You have an idea how long will you be staying?”

"Yeah, well the thing is, I haven't talked about it with Tony." You confess. "I've made quite a few international contacts by now. And there's still a lot to gain there. For a bit, it depends on what Tony has in mind."

“You don’t have a say in that?”

“You know how persuasive he is. Before you know it I’m back across the ocean.”

"Anyway." Rising to your feet. "In for another?" You intended to reach for his empty bottle. But are stopped by him. A firm grasp holds your wrist in place. You look at him in surprise. But you don't meet eye to eye. His head hanging downcast.

"Don't…" He muttered. "D-Don't go…" His hand feeling clammy and warm on your skin. You notice a slight tremble to his grip. His breathing heavy.

"It's… just the freezer." You try to lighten the mood. "But-..."

"No, it's n-not-…" He jumps up to his feet. “N-Not that…” Visibly swallowing the lump in his throat. "Please don't go." Taking a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. Sad looking puppy eyes meet yours.

"P-Peter…" You stutter, followed by a shuddering breath. "Are you…" Your head is fuzzy, spinning, overwhelmed by your feelings.

Peter just nods with those big puppies eyes staring into your soul. Drawing you in closer. You turn into him, closing the distance. Peter was just a little bit shorter than you. And in slow motion, you close in on his lips. You bring your hand up to cup his cheek. Peter leaning, his hand reaching for the back of your neck. Lips meeting in the middle. It's soft. It's slow. It's sweet. It’s everything you wanted. It's breathtaking. Your bodies finding each other. Pressed against one another.

"P-Peter...?" “Y-You… ehm….” Red flooding your cheeks. You both stare at each other, hesitant on the next move. “Wow... A… S-Stark isn't quickly rendered speechless... B-But, this…." You nod. "T-this does…it”

"I want you to stay (Y/N). Really… R-Really want you to." His hands reaching for the first buttons of your blouse.

You cup both his cheeks and kiss him again. More violent than before. Resting your foreheads for a moment against each other. "Peter…?" You stammer. “You… really wanna do this?

He pushes you onto the couch, a force you couldn't possibly stop. Seating himself on your lap. With a simple nod, he takes off his blouse. Revealing his masculine body. Leaving you gazing at the irresistible shape of his body. Feeling yourself growing. You snap out of it the moment you see him open his belt, tugging to open his pants. Revealing his underwear, stretched by his length. Your hands slowly caress down the side of his figure. Captivated by his physique.

His lips smack onto yours, one hand on his length. Peter moaning into the kiss. The other arm wrapped around your neck. Grinding against one another for a while. Until you replace his fingers with yours on his cock. Making him groan harder than before. Stuttering your name as you stroke his member slow and steady. His head falling to the crook of your neck. You feel his trembling fingers work with your buttons on your blouse. Forcing you to go bare chest. "I want you (Y/N)." He moaned in your ear. His voice commanding, almost hypnotic. Making you shudder to your very being. Peter was irresistible right now. Too cute for words. Grinding his hips into your grasp, but also against your groin.

"I need you, Peter."

"L-Let's do it." He pants, struggling to get his pants off. And as soon as he gets his off, he looks at you, before loosening yours. Releasing your raging boner into the wild. Seating himself back onto you. You try to grind both cocks in your hands. But Peter has a different idea, flipping on his back. He wanted more.

“C-Can you…” He moans. “-touch me?” You sink deeper into the couch by his weight pressing down on you, angling your hips forward. As Peter climbs on top of you, anchoring his right arm around your neck. And resting his warm, masculine back against your body. Resting himself on top of you gave you such a beautiful view down his abs, onto his erection. He slowly sinks down, his ass cheeks guiding its way to your cock. You feel yourself harden even more. At this point, despite his enthusiasm, you can tell he’s nervous. “Are you sure about this, Peter?” Pressing gentle kisses down the side of his neck. Letting your fingers brush every inch of his skin. Peter completely lost in bliss by your touch. Whimpering as you caress his abs and pecs. You realize you’ve never been harder before.

"Y-Yeah…" He pants. "I want you…" Tilting his head towards you, searching for your lips, kissing you slow and passionate. "Yes… (Y/N). Please."

With one hand, you slick your length nice and wet. Making yourself ready for him. You watch for Peter's reaction as you place your tip at his hole. Pushing lightly against the resistance. Peter just moans, closing his eyes. Shuddering on top of you.

"Talk to me." You whisper. "Does it hurt?" You watch him smile in response. Spreading his legs a bit further.

"N-No, it feels really good." He grins. "It… turns me on." Biting his lower lip.

"Good…" You stroke his length a few times. Making him whimper by your touch. Peter, on top of you, made you feel his every shudder and shake. Giving you a perfect insight into his level of pleasure. "Enjoy it." Before continuing to rub your tip along his ass cheeks. Softening up his flesh. With your fingers, you try to pry his little hole open a bit. Making it wet and ready.

"Put it in me..." He asks, breathing somewhat heavy.

You begin to push against his resistance. Trying to fit in the first few inches. You steady him on top of you. Watching his masculine torso heave up and down made you even harder.

"That’s it…!" He groans hard. "I... c-can feel you." He gasps. His ass cheeks clenching around your tip the moment you enter. Gripping around your tip tightly. You have to calm yourself down, closing your eyes, holding down your breath. Feeling his sphincter grip you so tightly was difficulty not cum already.

From your point of view, you can already see the sweat glistening on his body. You slowly begin to ease into him, your hand kneading into his chest, trying to make him relax. “It's so big…” He groans.

“It’s alright, Peter.” You keep touching him, softening him up. “Keep breathing.” He begins to push down on your cock. All without your help. Forcing you to slide deeper into him. His insides are warm and welcoming, the sensation enveloping. You halt for a moment, rubbing softly on his skin. Seeing his nipples rock hard turns you on incredibly. "How's that feel?"

"A…mazing." He gasps, his head falling backward. "G-Give it to me… please…"

“I’m going slow, Pete.” As you begin to move, his face a mix of pain and, seemingly, a bit of pleasure changes to a wide-open gasping mouth.

His breathing hitches with each thrust, you bring your mouth to his chest. With your tongue, teasing his chest. Stroking your tongue along his rippling chest. Circling his nipple, flicking it, before taking in-between your lips. Slowly suckling down onto it. Gasps of pleasure echo from his mouth as you continue by teasing his body.

Despite his soft moans, seeing Peter this flustered on top of you actually makes him look even cuter. You can tell he’s feeling good. His face contorted in what you can tell is pure pleasure. Whatever you’re doing seems to be working as his ass tightens on you. “You’re doing great, Peter.”

Going faster, his grip around your neck strengthens. You feel him shudder, his ass tightening up on you. “It… feel so good.” He groans loudly. “I… can’t hold it… much longer…”

"Shoot it for me." You moan into his ear. While you watch him stroke his cock. His movement become jolted and irregular. You run your hands gently along with his abs, your mouth giving long, luscious sucks on his nipples. Peter was one panting mess, he loved his body being touched like this.

"I… I can't…" He stutters, his arms falling to his side. You watch as his cock twitch at each of your thrusts. You seize the moment and wrap your fingers around his meaty length. You have to be careful not to cum yourself already. Touching him like this. Sliding the wet ridges of his cock through your hand.

"Cum for me." You continue to tease him. "I want to see you covered in it, Peter."

His eyes widened in disbelief. Watching you as one panting and moaning mess. Desperate for release.

"Drench that beautiful body." That single comment made him clench around you tight. You see his toes curl, hip bucking against yours. Shaking. Shuddering. Accompanied by a loud growl of release and pleasure. He jolts forwards, gasping for air. As you thrust deep into him again and again. Your strokes on his cock, matching your thrusts. Feeling his cock spasm in your hand. Releasing a jet of cum on himself. Each push of your length, making him squirt more and further. Draining every drop from him. Until he falls back into your embrace. Spent and satisfied. Panting long and hard with his eyes shut tight. His body covered in wetness. Small trembles follow. His hand running across his muscled body. Feeling the wetness.

"Fuck…" You breathe heavily. Trying to hold it together. "That was hot." Connecting your lips with his shoulder and neck. Your tongue catching the taste of his wetness.

"I love you…" He says in a shuddering voice. "So… m-much." The largest smile stretching across his face. Kissing you slow and sensual.

His rolling hips distracted you immediately from continuing to grace his warm skin with your lips. "A-Are you close?" He whispers to you.

"Yeah." You nod enthusiastically. Clenching your hands tight on his body. All warm and wet. Using whatever strength you have left to push him up and down your cock. You watch in amazement how his muscles stretch and bulge. Tense and relax. The size of his those thighs. The rippling muscles beneath the touch of your finger. God, he is so masculine, so complete. You feel overwhelmed. Short of breath. His proportions leaving you speechless.

Peter may be a bit inexperienced at it. But at this moment. This movement. The roll of his hips. Slow and steady. The angle on which he grinds down on your cock. So smooth and sensual. Swirling your cock through his wet, stretched insides. His flesh squeezing around your rock hard, pulsing member. Hugging it like you never felt before. While his breath fanned across your skin. Softly stifling groans by your penetration. Hugging you close.

"Keep going…" You groan. "Just like that…" Feeling your climax rise quick. Peter's insides felt smoother than before. You can't help but praise him more and more. Guiding you closer to your climax. The sight of his cock stiffening before you, makes you reach your high in no-time. Announced by a groan of pleasure and ecstasy, a load of cum erupts from your cock. You pull him close against you. Rutting into him. Filling his insides with your warm load.

Only the sound of heavy breathing, licking of lips, and tired moans. Followed by a burst of giggles. Peter still on top. You wrap your arms around his torso. Slowly sliding flat onto the couch. "Peter…" You whisper. "Something sparked yesterday, didn't it?" Biting your lower lip as he looks up at you with this cute smile. "I mean… look at that smile.” Your fingers gently playing with his ravaged curls.

He rolls onto your chest, laying his head to rest on his crossed arms. Releasing a content sigh. Dreamy eyes staring at you. "You make me smile (Y/N)." One finger tracing the lines of your collarbone.

You just love looking at him like this. Watching him absentmindedly circle his fingers on your skin. "I've grown to love you (Y/N). Everything about you is perfect. Your charm, your smile. You as a person. You're perfect in every way." Slight blushes forming on his cheeks. "I feel nervous, just looking at you." He giggles softly.

"Peter…" Cupping his cheek. "You're not the only one." Pressing your lips on his. "I love you so much."

“Will you tell mister St-…” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes glance up at you for a second. Realizing his mistake, as his smile grew larger. “-your dad about us? And your plans?”

"Yes… Yes, I will." For a moment, your thoughts wander off, imagining a rather uncomfortable conversation with Tony about you and Peter. "I know what I want." Brushing a few curls from his forehead, as Peter is obsessed with tracing his finger on your body. “Can you promise me one thing, Peter?”

“Wh-…?” Rising from your chest, seeing a bit of worry in your expression. “What is it, (Y/N)?”

“Please be safe.”

“I always am.” He smiles thinly. “Especially now that I have you.”

“For real, Peter. The Spider-Man stuff scares me.

“You really are the sweetest, (Y/N).” Peter shuffles closer onto you, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips. “I know what you mean. But don’t you worry. I’ll be extra careful.”

"I fear the day you don’t come home, Peter. I've seen it with my dad. I… I just want you to be safe… with me.” Pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Will you promise me you'll stay here?" Before you want to answer his question, his finger silences your lips. "Yes, or No?" He smiles.

"Yes… I'll stay here… If you come live with me." You watch his reaction, his smile growing. "Can you imagine comin-..."

Mid-sentence your cut off by his lips on yours. Passionate and strong. His hands holding onto your cheeks.

“Yes…” He mutters into the kiss with a big smile. “I… want… nothing more… than…to be …with you… every… single… day.” His body grinding against yours. Feeling him grow. "I want to be with you (Y/N).” Seeing the goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands roving on your skin. “You like that?” He smirks. Continuing to tease you.

"I like you, Peter." You groan by his tease. "With the whole of my heart." Tossing him on his back on the couch. Peter being much stronger, rolled you back.

“Let’s go to… our bedroom.” His smirks.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker smut #spiderman x male reader #spiderman imagine #male reader smut #male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #smut

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spaghettiandart · 3 years

Text

memories in three

Originally posted this on the aminos sometime during march, but decided (as of may 3 at 12 am) to post it here too! Yay spur of the moment decision! The rest of the post is from the blogs on the UT and UTAU aminos, and the story is under the cut.

author's note: this was mostly made to be part of my oc's backstory, but then i realized it could exist as a nice character development thing. the art was done on medibang paint and took 2 weeks.

characters: w. d. gaster, grillby, oc

categories: fluff, angst, friendship.

warnings: non-graphic violence, death, blood, mild language.

word count: 4092

[I] | one - the calm

The time they had was always finite. Even at the genesis of it, they knew. They'd look at eachother, a circle of three, assigned to stick together and be loyal to one another, and they knew there'd be no way they'd get along.

It was so easy to pretend, but with five months gone and passed it was getting harder to feign ignorance.

The violent crackles and pops of Grillby's flames match the rapid beating of his SOUL, colors rising to the white and lowering until it was a pathetic red in uneven jitters of anxious panic. He focused on pouring the rum into the barbarously crafted wooden mug, the familiar motions soothing his shaking hands until he felt some semblance of normality surround him.

The background quiet set him on edge, still. He could feel the flames on his shoulders worming their way through the openings on his armor, fingers immediately twitching to cast a flame ball, or reach for his sword, or pour another drink, or so something so that they weren't empty and susceptible to the whims of his ever-twisting emotions.

The tension- oh, how he hated the tension. Being silent was his favorite sport, his carefully cultivated talent, but he was a creature born and bred to exist in the midst of warm chatter and noise. He was not the type of man to be relaxed in silent, cold hate, and neither was he the type to mediate it.

Grillby picks up the three mugs by their handles, two hanging precariously from one hand, cradled to his chest, and the other already making its way to his mouth. The liquid stung at him, but not in the way human beverages did. While their concoctions were tasteless and lowered his HP by decimals, this was warm and fuzzy and the bubbly froth filled his mouth like cotton.

His team was already there. WingDings Gaster, Grand Arcane Battle Artificer of the Deltarune Legion, and Igneous No-Name, Grand Arcane Battle Mage-Scribe of the Deltarune Legion. The names were long in Human English, even longer in traditional Monster languages, but Titles had Meanings and must be Specific and Precise so as to grant Monster the Respect they Deserve. Said verbatim by his own King when he was given his title.

(Grillby No-Name, Fifth General of the Deltarune Legion, was what was inscribed on the back of the wings of his own silvery Deltarune-Symbol pendant. Every Monster soldier got one, regardless of their station and their specific designations. His own was cold enough for precipitation to collect on the metal, enchanted to withstand heat damage.)

His enchanted helmet is resting on a stack of parchment like a paperweight, turned away from the table so that its face was pointed at the wall. The silence was turned up tenfold the minute Grillby sheepishly walked into their section of the "room", and the two magic-users turned their mutual cold shoulder on him as well.

It shouldn't hurt, but Grillby had to stop himself from reeling as if he were struck by a physical hand. Oh, this wouldn't do.

They were a team, after all. Of the same Legion, of the same Fifth Division, of the same status. The silence killed him, repulsed his being down to the core because it was so very anti-him. Anti-Flame Elemental, even, because even when they were quiet the crackling of their flames were enough to communicate their feelings to another.

He only had body language to go off of the two. They may be masters at putting up facades, but he was a master of interpreting them, so the minute he sets the mugs down on the table he immediately pushed the stack of books piled in between Gaster and Igneous like a great wall crumbling to the ground, uncaring of the way the two jumped and jolted at the noise.

His SOUL pounded, filled with anxiety and slight reprieve at the sound, but he needed more. He hated speaking, he much rather would be the one spoken to, but there are little people to be found who'd like to ramble for hours on end to a stranger save for drunken heretics at the little old tavern he used to manage decades ago.

"What in the goddamn are you doing?" Igneous exclaimed, hood haphazardly slipping off her head and catching onto her big ears, holding on for dear life in a losing battle.

"I concur. What on Earth is wrong with you?" Gaster snapped the large tome he was pretending to read shut, the sudden action too surprising for him to not address.

Grillby takes the time to sip from his mug, before setting it down lightly. "... You're both acting like children when we are all adults. Talk out your problems."

Igneous glared at him with an impressive amount of venom. For someone with only two eyes to convey emotion, she knew how to convey it. "I am not talking to a child murderer."

The remaining monster in the room scowled at Igneous, and then at Grillby. "Tell the Mage that human children are the easiest and most reliable source of SOULs to harvest to bolster our ranks."

Igneous' eyes narrowed and her glare intensified. "Tell the Artificer that by killing the humans' children we'd only encourage them to attack as harder. Also tell him he's a shitbag for suggesting it in the first place."

"Tell the Mage that she's a naive twat if she thinks that war can be won with no sacrifices."

"Tell the Artificer that sacrifices of that degree are uncalled for and that he smells of elderberries."

"I do NOT smell like elderberries you-"

Grillby clapped his hands once. A burst of flame shot out from the vents on his shoulders and the palms of his hands, making the bickering pair freeze simultaneously from where they were slowly turning their heads to face each other.

"This is what I am talking about," the Swordsman looked at them both with a disappointed gaze from behind his crystalline glasses. "... Children, we are adults. You're going to apologize to each other and agree to disagree, or else I will burn one of the books you collected from the Human Mages."

Gaster slammed his hands down on the table and began to stand, expression thunderous. Igneous' eyes widened to such a degree that they threatened to pop out of her head, and she snapped her head back as if he struck her.

"Child number one, sit down. Child number two, stay quiet- I know you will say something and I will make you regret it," Grillby steepled his fingers, the effort of speaking for so long already taking the energy out of him. He heaved in a breath, the air making his flames crackle with strength. "... Child number one- it may be hard to realize this, but killing children is inarguably immoral and degenerate. Child number two- I advise you to set your pride aside, else your inability to accept the flaws of your naivety may cause you more harm than good... Now apologize, because I am becoming very annoyed at having to speak so much..."

The two stared at him as if he sprouted a second flaming head from his shoulder. Grillby lit up a single finger and held it over a stray paper on the table that escaped his rampage on their books.

Gaster was the first to break. "... ahem," he shifted uncomfortably, and stuck his nonexistent nose in the air so that he looked down at Igneous. "I suppose that I will have to concede at that. Your... interesting... worldview is something we can't quite see eye to eye on."

Grillby stared at him harder, and his shoulders slumped as he hunched over the table.

"And I apologize for my unprofessional conduct," he sighed, picking at the knicks and scratches in his hands in a nervous manner.

The Spirit Remnant stared at the- Skeleton? Shadow Creature? Wraith? Gaster never disclosed what kind of monster, exactly, he was- with clear contempt that faded away into uncomfortable and annoyed vulnerability. She rolled her shoulders, tail curling around her left ankle protectively.

"You're still a terrible creep, and I cannot deny that I would sooner pound you to dust with my bare hands than see you harm a child of any kind," she said, quietly, "but I understand that... things must be done for the greater good, sometimes. I apologize."

The air became heavy with guilt and frustration at that, but at least they weren't outright holding each other in contempt. Grillby prepared himself to speak for hopefully the last time that day.

"... Good. Adult One, Adult Two, may I present to you your rewards for acting your age," he slid over the mugs of wine to the both of them, glad that he couldn't physically let out the relieved sigh he would have released were he able to breathe at the sight of the suddenly bright expressions the two had.

Igneous casted a furtive, unsure glance at Gaster, who angled his body away from the both of them and glared at the papers beneath him. He didn't cover them from her view when she leaned over to glance at them, her brows quirking in question as she took another sip.

The mood didn't instantly change to comfortable. They didn't relax around each other, not immediately. But Grillby could feel the tension in his shoulders drift away as he watched Igneous quietly shoot the other with a question, and Gaster exchanging it with one in return.

The stress of the war was taking its toll on him, but seeing the two gratefully take small sips of his homemade rum and shyly exchange words about their respected professions made the weight on his chest lighten just a little.

| two - the storm

The battle is disorganized chaos, and he hates it. Not for the slaughter, not for the blood shed, not for the dust carried by the wind. He hates the sheer animalistic frenzy everyone on the battlefield was sent into- it's as if the second the fight began the primal instinct in their minds seemed to suddenly reveal itself, possessing their bodies and taking away their willpower to keep their hidden urges hidden.

Such was evident in the human shoving his sword into the throat of a bunny monster, rendering them to dust before the blade could slice its way out. Or a monster with a dragon's muzzle unhinging its jaw like a snake and snapping up a human mage, their spine crushed under the pressure in an instant.

Or even his own... companions, battling back to back against a frenzy of knights, swords gleaming and magic spewing around them. They were beaten down, armor covered in mud and muck, and from the minute trembling carried across their bodies it seemed as if they were ready to topple at any moment.

Gaster's fists tightened as his Special Attack blasted yet another beam of energy to render a pitiful human to ash, the conjured hands twisting in midair before flocking to his sides like a pair of dogs. He looked down from the cliff he was standing on at the clearing they were fighting in, chest heaving from exertion. He couldn't let it overtake him, not yet, but the exhaustion was close to killing him. His limbs hurt to their very core.

Igneous and Grillby were practically attached at the spine with how closed in they were. Igneous had snaked a hand around a human's neck, crushing his windpipe before resting her weight on Grillby's back and launching herself in the air.

Her conjured wings flung out from her back, and she slammed her foot into the chest of another knight, caving it in from the magically-reinforced pressure.

Despite the human bodies piling up around them, more seemed to flood the two as if recognizing them to be the heavy hitters they were. A human swung out with his sword, and Grillby caught it with his own flaming one, pushing it back. The two were neck and neck, heels dug into the ground as the gleaming blades fought against each other. The human's head shifted forward, as if they were saying something, and Grillby's flames burst into a column of blue, indignant fire.

The human took the opening his anger gave them by twisting their body and throwing their weight into Grillby's chest, pummeling him into Igneous and the ground.

Igneous flipped head over heels, wings dissipating as she lied face down. Grillby was shakily getting up, but the human struck out and suddenly there was a hole in the side of his armor, frost creeping around it.

Gaster scowled, and took a few steps back from the cliff in preparation. A voice behind him interrupted his motions.

"You meet your end, monster," a voice hissed from behind him. He tilted his head slightly, and upon seeing that it was only a mage he scoffed.

"Do tell the clouds hello," Gaster flicked the human mage away with little pressure and much disdain from one of the conjured hands, and set his jaw as he hopped onto the back of one of his hands. There was no time to be wasted with meaningless banter.

Hell would sooner freeze over than him seeing his fr- companions, his companions- Fall Down.

Smaller hands materialized around his body, hitting and punching and swatting away oncoming attackers as he rode the hand down the side of the cliff. The fingers stretched out, and he bent his knees ever so slightly.

As the end of the cliff was reached, curving into the clearing, he jumped with all his might off the hand and to the side, landing in a roll before hopping to his feet.

The hand continued on, and barrelled into the human slowly approaching Grillby with the force of a stampeding bull.

Their sword flew out of their hand and embedded into the bark of a nearby tree with a 'thunk!' and Igneous quickly picked up the slack as the hand dissipated, energy coalescing in her hands. Feathers caged the human in.

"... God... no, no," the human moaned in pain, attempting to get up on their elbows. They glared up at the three just as Grillby picked up his sword from where it lay discarded on the ground, grip trembling.

"You dirty freaks," the human weakly said, their chest heaving and breath wheezing. Perhaps that hand broke a few bones... oh well. Gaster found that he didn't much care about not knowing, this time, taking much pleasure in watching Grillby advance at the human with his own sword held aloft.

"You're not m-monologuing, right?" Igneous spoke up, her own breath wheezy. Catching the brunt of Grillby's weight must have hurt, because her entire body was trembling with poorly hidden pain. Almost unconsciously, Gaster shifted his body so that he was in front of her. Her body was trembling in shock and indignation, eyes wide and animalistic as they focused on the human. She looked ready to pounce. "Goddamnit... what are you waiting for, Grillbz? Just end them already!"

The human ignored her, slowly getting on their knees. Their fists clenched. "Y-you... you won't win this war. Kill me, but my brothers and sisters will avenge me! Our mages, our knights, our horses, our citizens- they'll all fight, all against you monsters!"

"Please kill them," Igneous practically begged Grillby, her wispy 'hair' flickering piteously. "They’re not useful. They’re not- just- kill them, please.”

"No, wait," Gaster found himself muttering, suddenly. Igneous snapped her head in his direction, eyes wide- and he almost flinched back at the desperation in her eyes. What did that human say? "I want to see what he'll do."

Grillby was examining the human curiously. His masked head tilted this way and that, his hands exchanging the swords as he stood in front of the human, looking down at it. Music, unidentifiable in genre, played in the distance.

The human looked up at him, glaring through the slits of their helmet. "You know... you know this. And... y-you know what I said before... I w-was right. Kill me, but you'll have to live with that... and that's enough for me to die happy."

There was silence. The two stared at each other, carefully.

"Well?" The human barked. "You're not going to end it? Take me prisoner, then! Flaunt me around! I still won't-!"

Their head was on the ground in a SOULbeat. Gaster and Igneous took a simultaneous step back as blood stained the grass underneath the human, the armored Flame Elemental examining the corpse before kicking it on its side, stomping back to them.

"... Wasn't going to let their dying words be them telling me what to do," he muttered once he reached them.

Igneous' shoulders seemed to drop suddenly, and she looked around them. Corpses, bodies, dust- they were all strewn about the battlefield haphazardly. There was no art behind them. No grand imagination from the divines above.

Just the reeking scent of death lingering over them all.

She took this in, much like Gaster was, and then looked at him. She had no mouth to smile with, but her eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the edges.

"You saved our skins back there," she said, voice still quavering from the quiet horror carried within it, and reached out a hand to him. Gaster hesitated, but let it land on his shoulder. The tall monster gripped it firmly, resting her weight on it. "I won't forget this, you know."

"You can start bothering me about it tomorrow," Gaster said, feeling a bit lightheaded.

Igneous shook her head at that, and gave it a few pats before moving away and CHECKing herself, digging around her small inventory for food. "I don't mean it like that. I mean- yes, I am absolutely going to tease you about this for the next month, but... you... you really do..."

Grillby sheathed his sword suddenly, and looked up at the cliff from where he rode down from. There was a quiet surrounding them. "... care about us."

Gaster shifted from foot to foot. He was no child. He was an adult, for God's sake. Why did he feel so... embarrassed, all of a sudden?

A cheer rose up in a crescendo of voices from beyond the cliff just as the sun made its way to the top of Mt Ebott and began to hide behind it. The battlefield was painted in a swath of gold and pink, and suddenly he wasn't so much focused on the chaos of it all as he was on the way the colors seemed to highlight the edges and curves of the two in front of him, how it made them all the more... real.

Gaster stepped closer to the two. "The humans have retreated. We should be... getting back, now."

It was Grillby who set a hand on his shoulder this time, his face pointedly looking away and at the sunset. "... five minutes."

"Ten," Igneous chimed in, brushing his arm with her own.

The trio stood there throughout the sunset and into the night, and Gaster woke the next morning with his friends resting on either shoulder, the dewy grass fresh underneath him and the battle feeling as if it took place years ago instead of the evidence of it being right behind him.

He watched the rising sun and smiled. There's the peace he was waiting for.

| three - the pieces

The last time Igneous woke up from her Hibernation Pack, it was to a boss monster with kind eyes looming over her.

She panicked, at first. Scrambled back, and then turned to alert the Spirit Remnants that she was resting with that there was an intruder in their den.

All that she was met with was piles upon piles of dust.

"I was able to stop him from hurting you, too," he had rumbled from behind her, " but I'm afraid that I was too late for your companions."

She turned back around, eyes wide with outrage.

He held a paw out towards her, offering comfort. It was stained with the humans blood.

She took it, and pulled him close, demanding that he give her a way to get revenge. His paw clenched involuntarily from surprise, and his dark claws nicked her ethereal skin.

Her essence joined the human's blood, and in the budding tears in her eyes an agreement was formed.

Centuries later, Igneous wakes up in a comfortable, warm bed inside a comfortable, warm home underneath the large mountain that she fought for her life on.

The nightmares were long gone, and memories were reserved for the day to sort through. All that was left for her dreams was darkness and static and white, mutilated hands reaching out for her with holes dug deep into their palms.

She never remembered them, and woke up each morning with the sense of loss lingering heavily in her chest.

In the room over, the sounds of chatter and the dinging of a bell signifying the front door opening and closing began to grow louder and more frequent. Igneous was frozen in the hallway connecting her and Grillby's bedrooms, curled up in a small armchair haphazardly placed there five years, seven months, and six days ago when the two were refurbishing the building and couldn't decide in which room to put it. They decided to share instead, setting it outside and in between their rooms.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, the chattering growing louder in her ears. Soon she'd have to step out and start taking their orders, but breakfast doesn't officially start in another… ten minutes, or so.

She can take her time.

The swaying pendulum hanging on the wall across from her demanded all her attention, grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes and reflected her past to her. Her stomach flipped with each sway of the object, hands traveling from her knees to her ankles and gripping them tightly.

It's been centuries. But that loss… was it only from the monsters dusted? Was it only from what that human revealed to Grillby and to her during that fateful fight? Or was it from that missing piece, the hole that separated both her and her friend, the dust-ridden and empty guest bedroom untouched that rested at the end of the hall?

Her fingers clenched tighter, digging holes into her pants that would be covered up by her boots later.

Was it the unfortunate fates of her pack? The piles of dust she woke up sleeping on, almost ready to join them before Asgore interrupted their murderer?

Was it what the human said? The quiet words, so low but loud enough at the same time to be heard from miles away, repeating in her ears? The truth, maybe even the sneer in their voice when they spoke, "Don't worry. We didn't dust all of our prisoners… but you will never find them."

Or the missing piece? The unknown factor that frustrated and scared her to no end, the pounding in her ears whenever she looked at the words unscripted on that silvery pendulum swinging back and forth and back and forth in a maddening rhythm from where it hung on the wall?

Her claws dug deeper, caught onto fabric, pulled. The seams of her pants ripped at the ankle, and her flickering, pseudo-fiery essence darted out in quick licks at the air.

The words stayed in her mind whenever she looked at it, dissapeared when she looked away, reappeared with all the context behind them when she looked back.

Every morning was the same routine. The same, desperate staring at the Deltarune-symbol pendant hanging from the wall. The same hope that she'll remember the name after she looks away.

The dread of not knowing if she'll remember to do it tomorrow.

She reread the name for the four hundred and thirty fifth time, desperately imprinting it on her mind. Grillby had long stopped even glancing at the thing decades ago. She won't forget.

She looks away.

"Shit, I'm going to be late," Igneous muttered, staring at the clock instead. She stood from the chair, confused and wobbly in the knees. "I could've sworn I was just sitting for a few seconds…"

She hurried off down the hall, pulling on her boots as she walked through the Fire Exit.

The pendulum swung on the wall, shaking as the door slammed closed, its name forgotten.

Wing Dings Gaster

Grand Arcane Battle Artificer

Deltarune Legion

Division V

#my art #grillby #gaster #oc #fluff #angst #friendship #my writing #fanfic #undertale #story #tw violence

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firesoulstuff · 3 years

Text

The Blind Date From Cell Block D

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33159133

Cisco is - understandably - a little wary when his ex-girlfriend sets him up on a blind date with her cellmate's sister. A part of him thinks the only reason they're set up is because they both have kids, not that they'd actually be good for each other.

Well, he's been wrong before.

Cisco can’t believe it’s come to this.

He stands in front of Jitters coffee and looks at the door ahead of him, a final debate in his mind as to if he’s really going inside or not. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Lisa, but her friends aren’t typically people he wants to get involved with. Of course supposedly this girl isn’t really one of her friends, but maybe a friend’s sister is close enough.

Oh well, he made it this far.

He enters the coffee shop and looks around. He doesn’t know what this girl looks like, but it isn’t all that crowded and he doesn’t see anyone looking around lost. He debates ordering coffee but he doesn’t know what she likes, and it feels rude ordering one for just himself, so he goes and claims a seat at a table with a nice view of the door.

He checks his phone while he waits, debating texting Barry to check up on Carmen or working on a crossword, when he hears the door open and he looks up.

This is probably her.

She isn’t what he was expecting, though Lisa had mentioned she was a “goody-goody.” She’s dressed nicer than he is, in a red flower-printed dress with matching lipstick. Her hair is this gorgeous light brown color that frames her face in loose curls. He starts to think maybe he’s wrong, that this woman is here to meet some other lucky guy and he’s still waiting, but then she notices him watching her and there must be something awestruck about his expression because she comes over to his table, and he awkwardly he pushes himself off the chair and stands.

“Hi…” She trails, “Cisco?”

“Um, yeah, hi.” He stammers, and offers her his hand, because apparently that is what he does on a first date now.

Still, she laughs and accepts the handshake.

“Caitlin, right?” He asks.

“Right.” She says with a blush, and he’s pretty sure he’s blushing himself.

“Cool, um, why don’t I go get us some drinks?”

What follows next is the obligatory awkwardness of a first date of her half-heartedly trying to give him money for her latte and his insisting that he’s paying for it. Once they have that out of the way and he’s returned to the table with her latte and his decaf Flash - he definitely doesn’t need the caffeine right now – he feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

“Thank you.” Caitlin says as he places her latte down in front of her and takes his seat.

“You’re welcome.” He says, “So, um, were you as nervous about the set-up from cell block D as I was?”

She snorts into her drink, and he can’t help thinking that it’s adorable.

“It’s always a bad idea when my sister wants to set me up.” She says, “When she said she wanted to set me up with her cellmate’s ex, no offence but I almost stood you up.”

“Understandable.” He admits, readily. Because really, he wouldn’t have blamed her. “What changed your mind?”

She chuckles, and he smirks when she suddenly avoids his eyes and starts stirring her straw around her drink.

“I um… I told myself I would come, it would be horrible, and then I could hold this over her every other time she tries to set me up down the road.”

He laugh, he tries not to but it gets through.

“So you’re using me.” He snarks, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m the bad date who is supposed to get you out of future, worse dates.”

“Sorry.” She winces, and he keeps laughing.

“Don’t be. I respect it, kind of wish I’d thought of it to be honest with you.”

Now she’s grinning along with him, and it’s nice. They sip their drinks, get over their laughter, though he’s still beaming with amusement when he speaks again.

“So, is this that bad yet?”

“Hmm… Not yet.” She hums, “But I can always embellish the details. What about you? Why’d you come?”

He shrugs, picking at his nails a bit. “Desperation, maybe? Been awhile since I had a date, and Lisa knows what I go for.”

He winces as the words leave his mouth; he definitely shouldn’t have worded that like that.

She’s raising an eyebrow at that, more than enough confirmation that he’s right, but at least she isn’t running away yet.

“What I mean is, um, Lisa and I had the conversation a while ago. We’re not right for each other, but we’re on good terms and we want to see each other happy. Plus, with Carmen, neither of us wants the other to waste time on something that isn’t going to last. So I trust anyone she’s going to set me up with will be someone she actually thinks I’ll like.”

Caitlin nods, but he’s still kicking himself. He learned a long time ago it’s never good to bring up an ex on the first date. Bringing up the kid? Absolutely, that’s something he knows he has to be upfront about. But he’s found ways to discuss Carmen while leaving her mother out of it until a later date, assuming it goes that far. But in this scenario that’s kind of difficult, considering it’s his ex who set this up.

“That’s good that you guys still get along.” She says, “I’m sure that makes parenting easier.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, whole-heartedly. There was a rough patch two years ago when Lisa first got arrested, he didn’t want much to do with her, he was so pissed. Then when he finally went to see her all they did was fight. It was horrible, and he could see the effect it was having on Carmen. He’s glad they’re past that.

“What about you?” He asks, “Lisa mentioned you have a son. You and the dad get along?”

She looks away again, her face falls, and instantly he knows he’s made a mistake.

“James’ dad is dead, actually.”

“Shit.” He whispers, “I’m-”

“It’s ok.” She promises, meeting his eyes again, with a look that says it is very much not ok but she’s tired of hearing the apologies. “It happened not long after James was born, he’s almost three. What about you? How old is Carmen?”

“She’s seven.”

He doesn’t miss how Caitlin’s expression shifts, her eyes blinking with mild surprise, and he chuckles. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten this kind of reaction after revealing his daughter’s age. He knows she’s doing the math, and debating whether or not she should ask exactly how old he is.

“Yeah, we had her kind of young.”

“I thought I had James young.” She comments, though the wonders if she meant to say that aloud, because when he starts cackling her face turns bright red and her eyes blow wide.

“I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” He assures her through his laughter. “Really, I’ve gotten far worse reactions.”

She nods, though she doesn’t seem to be taking much solace in it.

“Were you out of high school?” She asks, to which he makes an “eh” motion with his hand.

“It was partway through senior year when we found out Lisa was pregnant, so we’d graduated by the time Carmen was born.”

They keep talking about their kids, swapping stories and occasionally pictures. James is adorable based on the pictures she shows him. He has her eyes, and her hair, but there’s something about his face that he’s sure must be a carbon copy of his father’s. She almost laughs herself to tears when he shows her the picture of Carmen from a pool party last summer at his Abuela’s; all suited up in her life jacket, arm floaties, an inner-tube, and bright pink snorkel.

“Yeah, this winter, I made her go to swimming lessons at the rec center. Kid was convinced she was going to drown. Didn’t care she’d been swimming plenty of other summers and done just fine. Nope.”

“Oh my god.” Caitlin laughs, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, James is terrified of buses right now. Cars? Fine. Trains? His favorite things in the word. But ask him to so much as look at a bus and he cries, all because there’s a kiddie ride at Adventure Land that’s shaped like a bus and he got sick on it last month.”

Cisco barks a laugh; he can picture that all too easily. Carmen went through a similar phase once; though her issue had been with clowns and he was more than happy to simply avoid those rather than make her face them.

“I should be going.” Caitlin eventually says, fiddling with the end of her straw. “James is with my mom right now and she really needs to pack for a trip tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Cisco agrees with a nod. “I should probably go relieve my friends.”

They get up, and after throwing away their empty cups he walks her to the door.

“This was surprisingly fun.” He says as he opens the door for her.

“It was.” She agrees, and she sounds equally surprised. “Would you want to maybe do it again sometime?”

“Yeah, I would.” He decides, beaming at her. “But it’s gotta be before next Thursday. I’m taking Carmen to visit Lisa and I am not facing her after only one date with anyone, because she will pester me about a second date.”

“Oh absolutely.” Caitlin agrees wholeheartedly. “If Crystal finds out a first date went well but doesn’t have any second date details, she might actually explode.”

He snorts, but if Caitlin’s sister is anything like Lisa, he can picture exactly that.

“So… Friday?” He asks, coming to a stop.

She stops along with him, a smile on her face.

“Friday.” She agrees, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He isn’t ashamed to admit he’s a little awestruck as he watches her leave down the busy street and disappear around a corner. He’s definitely grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

Maybe the girls in cell block D know what they’re doing after all.

#killervibe month #killervibe month 2021 #cisco ramone #caitlin snow

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nsheetee · 4 years

Note

Can you do a part of the idol!jisung x idol!reader like when they first got together

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 || Final

summary: in which jisung and you first meet at the vending machines at inkigayo and are star struck (in more than one way)

you were thirsty

you just wanted some tea

it’s your good luck ritual before going on stage: buying a bottle of tea at the vending machine with your own money

you know it’s silly to base your whole performance on this one little ritual

but once it got into your head that you needed your bottle of tea, you would do anything to get it to ensure a successful performance on your part

this small ritual also stopped your pre-performance jitters and calmed your heart down

“tea time?” one of your members teased you as she saw you taking money out of your wallet

“yeah,” you roll your eyes, “do you know where the vending machines are?”

“no clue.”

“wow, thanks for all your help.” you reply sarcastically, sending a bye over your shoulder as you walk out of your dressing room and begin to wander around the sbs building

the area becomes empty once you walk down a few hallways, your head swiveling every which way

you round the corner and there it is, your precious vending machine

and also park jisung

although you can only see his back, you can tell who he is by his performance wear and tall height that almost matches the vending machines’

you stand, completely starstruck, tightly gripping your cash in your fist

when you were training, park jisung was your inspiration, even at such a young age

you never thought you’d be able to meet him face to face, and for some reason, the nervous butterflies in your stomach erupt quicker now than when you’re about to perform on stage

you look around the area- there doesn’t seem to be any of his staff or other members around

jisung is staring at the drinks inside the machine, stoic yet focused at the same time

you could just walk around some more to find another vending machine, but you already spotted your favorite brand of tea and are determined to buy it

you clear your throat, startling jisung into turning around

his eyes immediately widened when he recognizes you, and you both quickly bow and greet each other in formal mumbles of “hello’s” and “excuse me’s”

he moves away from the machine as you come closer, allowing you to step up and slip your money in

“the machine works, right?” you ask and jisung’s eyes widen, quickly looking around to see if you’re actually talking to him before answering

“yes. I-I mean, I don’t know. it should, shouldn’t it?” he stutters out and you bite your lip to keep from smiling

while your inspiration came from jisung, he was absolutely awed by your dancing ability and took notice of you when you first debuted

he couldn’t believe you’re standing in front of him, actually talking to him

and at inkigayo, no less

“you were just staring at it… I was afraid that it wasn’t working.” you explain before pressing the correct button and waiting a few moments for the machine to spit out your drink and change back

“ah, that’s because I really wanted some tea, but I don’t have any cash and no one will give me any because they don’t think I’ll ever pay them back.” jisung laughs awkwardly, realizing he’s probably talking too much

“oh, if that’s it…” you shrug, putting your change back into the machine and pressing a button, another bottle of tea falling down, “here.”

you dig the bottle out of the machine and hold it out to jisung

he looks shocked, but smiles cutely before taking the drink

“I’ll pay you back! I know what I said earlier makes it sound like I won’t, but I swear I will.” he assures you, clutching the bottle of tea to his chest

“it’s okay,” you laugh, “you don’t have to.”

“no, I will.”

“honestly, I-” you stop yourself, thinking about the next words that are going to leave your mouth, deciding that this might be your only chance to tell jisung how much he inspired you the past few years

“I’ve been a fan of yours for years. you were my inspiration when I was training, not just in dancing but in attitude towards being an idol. this is the least I could do.”

you feel embarrassment fill your chest as you bow politely and walk away before you can say anything else to humiliate yourself

although the words you told him might be a bit cringey, you don’t regret them

they’re all true

even though jisung’s promise of paying you back means you’ll see each other again sometime, you’re sure you’ll never run into jisung like that ever again

so what was the harm in praising him?

well, you do run into jisung again

this time, quite literally

you’re at a radio station, getting ready for an interview with your members when you decide you need something to drink

your head is lost in your wallet as you try to count your change, and you don’t notice someone leaning one hand against the vending machine you’re approaching

you accidentally bump into them and begin to apologize, but when you notice that it’s park jisung, you stop talking and gaze at each other in curiosity

“oh, it’s you?”

“we should stop meeting like this.” he laughs, noticing how familiar the scene in front of him is

you remember the last words you told him, embarrassment suddenly filling you and you avert your eyes, trying to find something else to look at other than jisung’s new hair color that suits him so, so, so well

jisung seems to notice your sudden uneasiness and he panics

for some reason, he doesn’t like that you feel nervous around him

he wants you to feel comfortable and relaxed in his presence

it’s an insane feeling to have after only meeting each other two times, but jisung can’t help it

“about what you said last time…” he trails off

he’s still amazed that fate could bring two people (who are each other’s role models) together by such a funny coincidence

“please,” you hold up a hand, “I’m sorry, I thought I’d never see you aga-”

“no!” jisung practically yells, making both of you look around the small area to see if you caught anyone’s attention, and then turning back to each other

“no, I just- I wanted to say thank you?” it comes out more like a question, “I mean, you’re obviously a very good dancer, and I’ve been watching you for a while now-” jisung’s eyes widen at his awkward wording

“I mean… I’ve noticed how amazing you are on stage.” you giggle at his stammer, and he continues, “telling me that I inspired you is… wow. I still can’t believe it.”

you feel yourself become hot at the unexpected compliment and you attempt to gulp down your nerves

with shaking hands, you step forward and put some money in the vending machine

it spits out two teas, you grab one and hold out the other to jisung

“let’s call this an agreement? we’re both good dancers and we’re both starstruck.” jisung takes the tea, a sense of deja vu filling him

“okay, it’s an agreement.” you wave bye to each other, the feeling that you’ll meet again sometime soon very prominent

jisung realizes two things when he sees you walking away

1) talking to you came so easily that he didn’t realize he dropped all honorifics until just now

and 2) he wants to keep talking to you, he wants you to come back and tell him all about yourself

and eventually, jisung gets his wish

once the end of dream’s and your group’s promotional period comes closer, you both find yourselves back at inkigayo for one last performance

you’re making your way to the vending machines, your money clutched in your hand as you try to remember exactly where they are in this building

and when you turn a familiar corner, you can see the machines in your sight

and park jisung as well

he hears the clacking of your shoes and turns around, smiling shyly and waving at you as you come closer

“h-hi.” you wave back

“I got you this. it’s the brand you like, right?” jisung asks, but he’s sure it is your favorite brand

he can’t forget about his last two encounters with you, the two empty bottles of tea that you gave him have been sitting on his bedside table for so long that even jaemin, one of the messiest people in jisung’s whole dorm, has been yelling at him to throw them away

“oh, yes, it is,” you accept the drink, looking up at jisung quizzically, “you didn’t actually have to pay me back.”

“I said I was going to, and I actually owe you one more bottle from last time.” jisung reminds

“I thought we said that was an agreement-”

“please, let me fully pay you back.”

the look on jisung’s eyes and along with the hopefulness in his palms as they clasp together in front of him make it almost impossible to say no

“okay, yeah, you can pay me back.”

“alright, so… how about this saturday? there’s a small cafe we can go to. no one will bother us there, I’m sure of it.”

you’re not even thinking straight at this point

park jisung just asked you out

your literal role model…

…is interested in you

you’re not sure what expression your face holds, but it makes jisung smile brightly

“like a d-date?”

jisung finds your stutter cute, and he nods in confirmation

“um, yeah, sure, awesome. I’ll get your number later, then?” you try to play cool, but your heart is spasming and you aren’t 100% sure if what you just said makes any sense

“yeah, just don’t throw the bottle away.” jisung waves goodbye while walking away from you, leaving his smile permanently etched into your mind

confused, you look down at your bottle of tea

written in black marker is a string of number’s, along with a message:

“don’t throw me away! I’ll see you saturday :-)”

you pick your head up to see jisung round the corner, an unerasable smile radiating from you

for this performance, your heart flutters and your nerves are wrecked, but for a whole different reason:

park jisung

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adenei · 3 years

Text

Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride - Chapter 1

Readn on: AO3 || FFN

Mozart found his calling at age five, composing his first minuet. Picasso discovered his talent for painting when he was nine. Tiger Woods swung his first club well before his second birthday. Me? I was eight when I discovered my purpose in life.

I was at the Hillsong Church in London for my cousin Tessa’s wedding. It was the first big outing for Dad and I after Mum passed away, and he wasn’t doing very well. I needed to use the bathroom before the ceremony began, so I excused myself to do so. As I was washing my hands, I heard a scream, and the bride came running out of her suite.

“Shit!” she said as she turned to look at the three inch tear on the back of her wedding dress. When she saw me, she apologized for her language. “Sorry, Hermione!”

“It’s okay, we have cable,” I said quickly.

“What am I going to do?” she said woefully to herself.

As I was drying my hands, I looked back in the mirror and noticed the bow that was tied around my head. I had an idea.

I took the ribbon from my hair, and weaved it into my cousin’s wedding dress to hide the rip. I knew I needed to get back to my seat because Tessa was getting ready to walk down the aisle, but she stopped me as I headed for the door.

“Hermione, wait! Will you hold my train as I walk down the aisle?” Tessa asked me.

And that was the moment. That was when I fell in love with weddings. I knew that I had helped someone on the most important day of their life, and I couldn’t wait for my own special day.

~o~

“Oh my goodness you’re stunning!” said one of the bridal salon stylists.

“Absolutely beautiful!” a second complimented.

I was smiling from ear to ear as I modeled a spectacular wedding dress made of taffeta with a sweetheart neckline. It really does fit me spectacularly well, I thought before my phone rang.

“Katie! Hi!” I answered. “Yes, the dress fits perfectly! You’re going to look so beautiful—yes, I know! Such a lucky coincidence that we’re exactly the same size!” I paused to listen to the rest of her directions. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. They just finished hemming. Remember, this is your day. You don’t need to worry about a thing!”

I hung up and looked at the stylists, who seemed satisfied. They helped me out of Katie’s gown so I could change into my bridesmaid dress instead. It wasn’t terrible, considering the other bridesmaid dresses I’d worn in the past, but maybe someday the brides might pick something other than taffeta for the bridesmaid dresses. At least the lilac color was nice.

Remember how I said I fell in love with weddings? Well, I realized I had a knack for making someone’s wedding day special after I graduated from University. A study group partner had a bridesmaid back out and asked me to fill in at the last minute. Of course I said yes, since I didn’t know how to say no, and she gushed that I saved her day.

I would hardly call it ‘saving the day,’ but it did get me thinking. With no active love life of my own and very few hobbies outside of my job at an up and coming publishing company, I decided to put myself for hire. Wilkins Weddings was a one woman show, but my best friend and coworker Lavender Brown helped out on occasion. She was actually the one who came up with my witty slogan. Turn your ‘woes’ into ‘wows’ with this all in one wedding planner and bridesmaid for hire.

It was a decent side business, and tonight would mark wedding numbers twenty-five and twenty-six. I did say I had a hard time saying no, didn’t I? Ordinarily I would have declined the second offer, but this one wasn’t hiring. Parvati was my roommate and good friend at University, and I couldn’t say no! Her wedding was a bit rushed, but the venues were fairly close together with staggering ceremony times. I knew I could make it work.

Satisfied with my hair and makeup, I left the bridal salon’s dressing room and took the wedding dress off the rack on my way out the door. I had five minutes before I needed to meet Lavender, then we’d head to Katie’s venue. Despite being nearly late myself, I still beat Lav to the intersection we agreed on.

“I’m here, I’m here!” I heard her unmistakable voice call.

“It’s about time! I was beginning to worry,” I told her, a frown crossing my face.

“Yeah, yeah. Remember I’m doing you a favor with this one,” Lavender reminded me.

“I wouldn’t call it a favor since I am reimbursing you for your time,” I retorted. She shot me a look. “Thank you for doing this, by the way.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do anyways. Why do you have all that stuff?” she asked me.

“Oh, nevermind that. Here, take this bag. It has tylenol, safety pins, anything you’ll need in a pinch.” I noticed Lavender’s hair. It looked like it was thrown up haphazardly into a messy bun. “Lav, did you even try to do your hair?”

“What? The bitch said up, so it’s up!” she chirped with an attitude*.

I rolled my eyes at her crassness. “I’ll fix it when we get inside.”

It wasn’t that Lavender couldn’t do her own hair and makeup. She absolutely could. Half the time, she was the one doing my hair and makeup for all these weddings! I just knew that if she wasn’t invested in something, then she couldn’t be arsed about it.

It didn’t take long to get to the venue. Once inside, I handed the dress off to the maid of honor and fixed Lavender’s hair. Pictures needed to start in five minutes in order to keep the ceremony on time. Things had to run smoothly if I was going to pull this off.

As if they could hear my thoughts, the doors to the bridal suite opened and Katie appeared. She was a beautiful bride! The photographer quickly lined us up for pictures, and in between shots Katie nudged me.

“Aren’t the dresses great?” she asked. “The best part about it is you can shorten them and wear it again!” she said through nervous laughter.

I nodded and smiled. Rule number one was to always agree with the bride. It was funny how that saying had become a staple among all brides. I wondered if it was just something they said to make their bridesmaids feel better about spending all that money on a dress they’d only wear once. Because let’s be honest: no one ever actually shortens the dress and wears it again. I can attest to that.

The ceremony started shortly after we posed for pictures. I was trying to be conspicuous, but I knew I was obsessively checking my watch. The presider of the ceremony was probably the slowest speaker I’d ever witnessed. Finally, the ceremony ended and the bride and groom were whisked away to get their own photos done. I knew I wouldn’t be needed for at least an hour and a half when the reception was due to start, so I quietly slipped away and grabbed my bag.

I made my way outside and hailed a taxi. Luckily it didn’t take long for one to pull over. I climbed inside and pulled my hair out of it’s updo as I addressed the driver.

“30 Portman Square, please, and I’ll give you £300 flat for the whole evening on one condition.”

“Yeah, sure!” the driver said excitedly.

“You don’t look in the rear view at all. I’ll deduct £15 every time you do,” I told him seriously.

He looked surprised. “That’s easy. Deal!” The driver pulled onto the street and I began to undress. I needed to change into my other bridesmaid’s dress before we arrived at our destination. “What are you doing?!” he asked as I pulled my current dress down.

“Hey! We had a deal. You just lost yourself fifteen. No looking!”

He shook his head. “Fine,” he said as he shifted his eyes to the road.

When we finally pulled up to the address, I opened the door and paused before getting out. “I’ll be right back!” I took my bag and headed into the venue.

“Oh, good! You’re here! Do you have any of those extra thingies? I forgot mine,” one of the bridesmaids said as she rushed over to me.

I reached into my bag and pulled out an extra bindi for her to put on as Parvati came out from an adjacent room. “You’re here!” she cried excitedly.

“Of course I am! I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that!”

“I know, I know. Wedding jitters I guess! Are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” I answered.

The ceremony was a heartwarming blend of Hindu and Christian cultures as I watched from my spot next to the bride. I only had to check my watch a couple of times as the ceremony moved a bit quicker. I stayed for a few pictures before Parvati’s cocktail hour began and then slipped outside. My taxi driver, whose name I learned was Seamus, was standing outside, leisurely waiting.

“What are you doing?!” I cried. “We have to go! Move it!” I knew I was probably being pushy, but I didn’t have any time to spare. I caught him staring again on the way back, and quickly covering myself, I scolded him again. “You’re down to 270 now. Do you really want to keep this up? It’s great for me, but not for you.”

“Alright, alright!” Seamus said as his eyes focused back on the road.

I made it back to Katie’s wedding in time for dinner, and luckily Lavender didn’t notice my absence. “So, I’m trying to decide between those two groomsmen over there. What do you think? The blonde or the brunette? I’m personally thinking the brunette myself. Tall, dark and handsome...really gives off the mysterious vibe, don’t you think?” she asked me.

“Are you really only thinking about sex right now?” I asked her incredulously.

“What else are weddings good for other than a one night stand? Besides, I really want a man to rip this dress off me with his teeth! You could probably use a good one night stand yourself,” she smirked at me as she got up and sauntered over to the men by the bar.

I shook my head as I checked my watch again. Duty calls, I thought. I grabbed my bag and headed back out to the taxi.

And that’s how my night went. I was secretly thankful for Seamus, even though he couldn’t resist looking in the mirror on more than one occasion. He stopped me before I walked into Parvati’s wedding in the wrong shoes, so I decided I’d give him £10 back for that at least.

The night went by like any other wedding I’d attended; the only difference being me splitting my time between the two. That meant two meals, two different instances where I helped the bride use the bathroom, two times I had to dance to the staple wedding songs like the YMCA and the Electric Slide, and two cake cuttings.

There were also two heartfelt speeches where the brides each thanked me in kind for all of the work I did and how helpful I’d been through the entire process, not that I was in the business for the recognition. I just wanted to see these brides happy with their perfect wedding.

I was at Katie’s wedding for the bouquet toss. I found myself on the floor with all the other single ladies, but I’d long since given up hope of catching the bouquet. Yet, as Katie tossed it I realized it was headed directly for me! I raised my hands in anticipation and just as it was about to come into my grasp, I was knocked out of the way, and most likely trampled on in the process. It knocked me out, so I honestly had no idea what happened before I came to.

When I did wake up, everything was slightly out of focus. I turned my head to see the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen, and the man behind them was quite attractive too. He was a redhead, which wasn’t usually my type, and he had freckles that covered his face, with a large cluster along the bridge of his long, slender nose. I’d never seen this man before in my life, and yet I felt like I knew him.

I closed my eyes in an attempt to shake the thought from my mind. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a total stranger, and he was probably the closest person nearby when you fell, I told myself. Lavender and another bridesmaid appeared behind the man as he maintained eye contact with me.

That was when I noticed my head was pounding. I moved my arm to grasp it and tried to sit up, but he stopped me. “Whoa, don’t move. It could be a concussion. That was a serious fall.” I heard him say. He turned around and looked at the bridesmaids. “Okay, I need you to get me some ice, you some strong liquor, at least 80 proof, nothing less, and you, go find a towel to cover the ice with.”

He reached out his hand and helped me sit up. “Are you a doctor?” I asked him.

“No, but Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Drunk were hovering so I figured they could use something to do,” he said as he flashed me a lopsided grin. “Do you know your name?”*

“Hermione,” I said simply.

“Hermione. Good. I’m Ron,” he answered.

I couldn’t help but smile back at him, albeit a bit shyly. “Thanks for helping me,” I told him gratefully.

He helped me to my feet and made sure I was alright. I nodded and touched my head once more. Things felt a little woozy and his strong arms caught me before I started to fall backwards again.

“Maybe you should head home. Let me help you get a taxi,” he insisted. I vaguely remember nodding as he led me to get my things and we approached the door.

Seamus was waiting outside as I got in. For some reason, Ron insisted on making sure I got home safely, even though I told him I was fine. The taxi ride started in silence, but I should have known that was too good to be true.

“Nice knickers, by the way,” he said a bit too casually.

“Excuse me?” I asked. What was he talking about?

“I saw you changing earlier. How many weddings are you in tonight, anyways? Two, three?”

“Two. Not that it’s any of your business.” So much for thinking he was genuine.

“It’s a little upsetting, don’t you think?” He asked.

Who does he think he is, I wondered. I needed to think quickly. “What? They’re both—” I paused awkwardly, needing to think up an excuse. “They’re both really good friends of mine, so what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let them down because their weddings fell on the same night! It was fine until I was knocked over and hit my head.” It wasn’t a complete lie…

“That’s not the upsetting part. I don’t know how people stand attending one wedding, let alone two.”

“What do you mean? I love weddings!” I defended myself, not that I needed to.

“Ah, yes. What exactly do you love? The bad food? The cheesy dances? Open bar? That’s what has me coming back if I’m being honest.” What was with this guy?

“What? No. If you must know, it’s seeing two people in love. The special time in a couple’s life when they’re bonded together.” I wasn’t about to let him win.

“Ah, of course. Love. How could I forget. Love is patient, love is kind. Love makes me lose my mind.”

I sighed. It wasn’t worth getting into an argument with him, so I changed the subject. “What is it you do again?”

“I’m a writer,” Ron said with a lopsided grin.

“Ah. Makes sense,” I said as Seamus pulled up to my place. I handed Seamus his money. “Thanks for everything tonight. Here’s £150. You know what you did.”

“Well, thank you for—” I was about to thank Ron for his help tonight, but he was already out of the taxi. “Wait! Where are you going? Shay, don’t go anywhere. He’ll be right back,” I said pointedly.

“Don’t you think it’s a whole lot of wasted money, time, and effort for something that honestly has a fifty-fifty shot at lasting a lifetime?” Ron asked as he walked around to my side of the vehicle.

“Oh, lovely, another man who doesn’t believe in marriage. How relieving,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m just saying! The whole thing is hypocritical. The fancier the event, the less likely things are going to work out,” he said as he shrugged.

“How very insightful of you. Putting in the hard work to help hopeless romantics see reason in the face of love,” I shot back. “Do you also tell small children that Father Christmas isn’t real? Because you’re quite good at bursting bubbles, and someone needs to blow that shite wide open*.” I rarely swore, but this man was getting me all sorts of riled up.

“Hmm, so you agree? Believing in marriage is a bit like believing in Father Christmas, yeah?” he said with a laugh.

“No! I—” Why was I letting him get to me? I didn’t understand it. I needed to end this conversation and get to bed. That fall was doing weird things to my mind. “I don’t need to be arguing with you about this. I don’t even know you!”

“Because you know I’m right?”

“No! Marriage is hard. It takes work, and if you’re willing to work at something so much that you want to commit the rest of your life to that one person, then that’s special, and should be celebrated! Cynicism, on the other hand, is easy.” I held out my hand. “It was very...peculiar meeting you.”

“You as well,” he said as he shook my hand.

“Yeah. Goodbye,” I said with an air of finality.

“Bye,” he said. I crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk. I’d almost gotten to the steps when I heard him say, “Are you going to be in any weddings next weekend?”

“Very funny. I have to go. You can leave now,” I said, waving him off.

“I’m just wondering. How many have you been in, anyway?”

“It’s none of your business!” I called over my shoulder.

“Come on, just give me a number. Doesn’t have to be exact!”

“Goodnight!” I said as I punched in my code and shut the door firmly behind me.

I shook my head as I climbed the stairs to my flat. Were there truly no genuine men left out there? Normally I’d put everything away upon walking in the door, but my feet hurt and head throbbed. So, I tossed the bag on the counter and changed into more comfortable clothes. I popped a few aspirin and hung both dresses up.

I stared at the large closet in my living room and sighed. Even though I was exhausted, I took the few extra steps to hang the dresses up along with the other twenty-four that were shoved into that small space. I wasn’t sure why I kept them all, but I did. Maybe it was my little piece of nostalgia from each bride I helped.

The contents of the closet were about ready to burst, but I managed to shut the doors. Finally, I could sleep. I pulled the covers back on my bed, and closed my eyes as my head hit the pillow. Much to my dismay, thoughts of the negative redhead filled my mind. No matter how hard I tried to shake those thoughts away, he wouldn’t budge. It was a relief when sleep finally consumed me.

~o~

I woke up Sunday morning and followed my normal routine, which meant immediately collecting my newspaper. I sat down on the sofa and sifted through the different sections until I found the one I was looking for.

“Ah, the Commitments,” I said with a big smile on my face.

As if weddings didn’t already consume the majority of my life, this was the reason I subscribed to The Telegraph, and I had no regrets. Billy Weston was one of the most prolific commitment writers I’d ever read. His coverage of weddings were always so romantic, and I only hoped that one day he’d cover my own.

“Ha, take that Ron!” I said, thinking of the cynic I’d met last night.

I was certain he’d never live up to this writer, no matter where his line of work fell. He’d do well to meet the likes of Billy Weston, who proved that romanticism still exists. Someday, I thought. Someday.

#romione #muggle au #27 dresses inspired #ron x hermione #Hermione Granger #Ron Weasley #Lavender as Casey cracks me up

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iwhumpyou · 3 years

Note

Dizziness?

*gasps* What’s that? Original whumpfic?

Hope this fills what you were looking for!

Masterlist. Raider.

Taglist: @smileevenwhenyoudontfeellikeit, @whumps-the-word, @whumpy-daydreams.

Exhaustion.

~#~

She could sit upright now. Well, slump upright, curled up in the corner, head pressed against the wall as she fought to keep her eyes open. Her surroundings faded in and out, the crowd of people blurring to splotches of color and the conversations fading to murmurs.

She knew they were looking at her – she could feel the weight of their glares. She knew they were talking about her – she could catch snatches of furious hisses and snarled insults. She just didn’t have the energy to care about it.

She didn’t have the energy to do anything.

It surprised her. She had always been driven – top of her class, ambitious, proud, head raider by the age of twenty-six, a voice on the Council.

And she had crippled every one of her ambitions for a shot in the dark. One chance to do the right thing. Slight, small, probably entirely worthless in the long run, but she had been so tired of stepping aside and letting the Council follow a dark path.

So she’d spoken out. Cast her vote. Made sure that particular law wouldn’t be passed. And in doing so, destroyed her relationship with her family, ruined any chance of keeping her position or her job, and lost every safe harbor she’d ever had.

Her family. The raiders. Her friends – she wasn’t very good at making friends, and any casual acquaintance would balk at sheltering her, especially when she had such powerful enemies hunting for her head.

The Council. Killian. Every single enemy she’d made over the years in her tenure as raider. Laila may have sheltered her out of some fading sense of obligation for the relationship they’d once had, but she had a position to regain. Tanner and Kate had only helped her out of duty to Laila.

Riya was resourceful. She could start her whole life from scratch – she certainly had the skills to do so. But the old poison had wrecked her endurance, the building had crushed her, the Council’s thugs had crippled her, and Killian’s torture had finished the job. She couldn’t even sit upright, much less stand, much less fight. Someone could walk up to her and put a knife under her chin and all she’d be able to do was fall on the blade.

She was in a lawless den of outlaws and fugitives, with no friends, resources, or shelter, and she didn’t have the energy to try and escape.

She just prayed that Killian wouldn’t be the one to get his hands on her. Her family would execute her, the Council would jail her, anyone else would just slit her throat, but Killian would torture her and Riya was so close to breaking.

“Riya. Riya.”

She blinked, and was vaguely surprised when a familiar face resolved itself in front of her, a tone halfway between worried and annoyed. She wondered how long they’d been calling her name.

“Riya –”

“Yes?” Riya managed, blinking slowly. Freya was scowling. It wasn’t a meal time, and she wasn’t carrying food anyway. What did she want?

“We’re having a discussion about what to do with you,” Freya informed her, “And I thought you might like to join.”

Riya stared blankly at her. What was the point? She didn’t need to hear a list of reasons of why Sherwood hated raiders, or maybe hated her specifically, or all the gruesome imaginings of what they wanted to do to her.

“Get up,” Freya said. So she wasn’t getting a choice.

Riya made an attempt at getting to her feet. Unsurprisingly, it failed.

There was an annoyed huff above her, and hands closed around her arms, pulling her upright. The world spun around her, her head pounding as her legs trembled, the world washing out to sickening spirals of colors.

“Wait,” Riya tried to say, her tongue heavy in her mouth as her stomach twisted, pins and needles jittering down her limbs. Jolts ran through her muscles, too fast, too close, and her head was already spinning, she’d crumple entirely if they forced her to walk.

The colors slowly receded to their original places, gravity resumed its normal position, and Riya blinked to see Freya staring at her, her hands vices around Riya’s upper arms.

“Good?” Freya asked slowly, her expression carefully neutral.

Riya nodded in lieu of unsticking her tongue to answer.

Their progress was slow as Riya had to pause every few steps to let the world reassert itself, exhaustion dragging at her as she was forced to move fatigued, trembling limbs. It was sixty-three steps to the meeting hall, and Riya knew that because every single one was a painful hurdle.

She gratefully collapsed into the chair Freya nudged her into, eyes sliding shut, and let the world go fuzzy. She was forced to attend, no one said anything about participation, and Riya only attempted to pry open her eyelids when someone said her name five times, in increasing order of annoyance.

“So glad the head raider finally deigns to grace us with her attention,” a man Riya recognized as Nigel Bryce made a cold, thin-lipped smile as he flicked a knife in one hand.

“Not the head raider,” Riya managed, because Bryce had been on their wanted list for years, and now the violently murderous psychopath was sitting five seats down from her.

“Really?” Bryce said, leaning forward, “How did you manage that?”

“Decided to have an original thought,” Riya said, voice sharp, and something inside of her shivered at the slow smile.

“You’re lying,” the woman next to Freya responded, face blank.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re lying,” she repeated, “You’re still head raider.”

“You’re operating with outdated information –”

“As of two days ago, Riya Faris is still listed as head raider of the Seawirk division,” the woman recited calmly.

Riya stared at her. That wasn’t true. That couldn’t be true. The Council had gone after her. She’d been missing for at least two weeks, and there wasn’t a hint of an increased raider presence on the streets.

It didn’t make any sense –

“Do you know how many people in this city want your head, Riya?”

Unless they trying to start a fight. Unless they were attempting to uproot the peace treaty that had been finalized years ago, that had stabilized only recently – under threat of Killian – and that Riya had thrown her career away to safeguard.

Riya made a low, choked sound and slumped further in the chair, squeezing her eyes shut. Plots upon plans upon tricks, and she had only ever discovered the first layer.

Set her up for the fall. But not a public disownment, not yet, not until the head raider was found murdered on the streets and the city could descend into exactly the anarchy the Council needed to swoop in and reassert order.

The exact anarchy Killian needed to swoop in and take control.

Riya felt like she was holding half a puzzle, and she didn’t like the picture it was forming.

“Riya! Riya!”

Riya blinked her eyes open again, and hissed when the world spun. There were fingers digging into her shoulder and she tried to twist away from them, but merely slid further into her chair as her muscles spasmed and gave out.

“Riya,” Freya’s face was hovering above hers, expression tight and eyes narrowed, “You should’ve long since healed, what happened to you?”

“Poison,” Riya rasped, “A building collapsed. An attack. Killian’s particular brand of torture. Take your pick.” Freya’s face wavered, and drew back. “If you’re going to kill me, could you please get on with it? I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake.”

She was already beginning to feel floaty, her arms and legs curiously detached and numb – she was practically curled in her chair, staring out at a gathering of some of the most dangerous outlaws in the world, and all she could think was how badly she wanted a nap.

“Generally,” Bryce said dryly, “We give our acquisitions a chance to make a case for why they should be left alive.”

Riya laughed. Or chuckled anyway, unamused giggles trickling out because the world was spinning and she couldn’t suppress the jolt of hysteria. “You’re joking, right?” she said between hiccups, “Someone is going to slit my throat two steps from your front door. There is no case for leaving me alive.”

A series of glances were exchanged up and down the table, but Riya could only think about her dry mouth and aching head and how the lights were too bright and her vision was swimming. She tried to swallow, and it stuck in her throat.

“As it’s apparent that Riya is still considered the head raider,” Freya’s voice said from far away, “I move we hold an auction.”

“I second that vote,” Bryce added, and the darkness wrapped around her in tune to murmured agreements.

~#~

TBC.

#whumpfic #raider #arc: auction #dizziness #exhaustion #collapse #at an enemy's mercy #request fill

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joochansimp · 4 years

Text

Wanted | Chapter 1

> synopsis: a ‘vampire knight’ inspired fic in which the human reader goes to a prestigious university, home to both humans and vampires. she catches the attention of a group of vampires and chaos ensues. > genre: fantasy, angst, fluff, uni, very crack & au. also very indulgent lol > pairing: readerxjuyeon, readerxrowoon, readerxseonghwa, readerxjaehyun (it is complicated... KJSDHFKSJ) (also more pairings/characters might be added later) > warnings: descriptions of blood, mild wounds, memory loss, manipulative behaviour sometimes. > words: 3.5k

You took a deep breath as you entered the building that would be your home for the next seven years of your life. Your stomach was filled with excited jitters, though a part of you was anxious. You didn’t really know what you were in for—everything you knew about Sagong Academy, and many other private academies of the sort, was that it was prestigious and that a lot of freshly graduated highschoolers from all over the world wanted to get in. You also knew that it was dangerous. How could it not be when the school was home to vampires?

You hadn’t met a lot of vampires in your life. Statistically, most vampires got turned between the age of 18 and 30, so you had never gone to school with one. There wasn’t a way of telling whether someone was a vampire or not, since they were able to walk around in the sunlight and physically looked the same as humans if they chose to, so unless they openly showed their nature, they were disguised.

When you stepped into the school building, however, you realised it was going to be very easy to keep the humans and vampires apart.

‘’You must be one of the first years,’’ a cheerful boy beamed at you as he walked over, holding out a folder. You nodded and took it, already taken aback by his demanding presence. He was wearing an all-white uniform: neat dress pants that were cuffed at the bottom, a white dress shirt, a white blazer and white shoes. The only things that weren’t white were his tie and some lined details on his uniform, which were a soft, warm orange. The girl next to him was wearing a uniform that was mostly the dark grey color of the boy’s tie, with a grey skirt, shirt, blazer and shoes, including the lined details that mimicked the boy’s uniform. Her stockings were the only fully white items, each having two orange lines at the top.

‘’I’m Changmin, second year student representative of the human house. This is Gahyeon, she’s the second year representative of the vampire house. If you have any questions, we’re the ones you can talk to. What is your name?’’ he asked, looking down at a clipboard as he waited for your answer.

‘’Y/N,’’ you told him, quickly getting used to his fast paced and quirky presence.

‘’Ah, right here,’’ he said with a smile as he crossed your name off of the list.

‘’You’ve been paired up with Lee Jeno, table fifteen in the auditorium,’’ he said, pointing his pen to the left.

‘’Thank you,’’ you smiled at him, then made your way to the auditorium. You already knew the school was wealthy, but seeing the grand building in all its glory, both on the outside and inside, made it all the more real. Golden details on the walls and furniture, marble floors, and the three story high ceiling in the auditorium all showed off how exclusive the school was.

Rows and rows of tables were situated in the large room, and you walked around as you looked at the golden rimmed disks with numbers on the tables. At table number fifteen a dark haired boy sat, who was looking around, looking like he was carrying around about the same amount of nerves as you were. You walked over and cleared your throat, and as you caught his attention he got up from his seat.

‘’Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m supposed to sit at this table with you,’’ you introduce yourself, bowing at the boy. He quickly got up and bowed back, a friendly smile on his face.

‘’Nice to meet you, I’m Jeno,’’ he replied, sitting back down, and you sit next to him.

‘’This place sure is big, isn’t it?’’ he said as you both looked around the room.

‘’Definitely,’’ you agreed, your gaze falling on the back of the room, where a low stage was situated. Some people, whom you assumed were teachers, were standing on it, talking to each other as they waited for all the first years to arrive. You weren’t much of a talker and it seemed like Jeno wasn’t either, which suited you just fine. You preferred to get adjusted to a place and new people before completely opening yourself up, so you took this time to take a good look at the people around you. They were all either wealthy, or scholarship students like yourself, you assumed.

At exactly 9:00 the doors to the auditorium closed, and the staff gathered on the stage. You recognised Changmin and Gahyeon among them. A man stepped up to the microphone, which stood in the center of the stage, and the sound of people talking died down.

‘’Welcome to Sagong Academy. On behalf of the staff, we hope that you will find your stay here educational, enlightening and comfortable. If you have any questions after today’s introductory gathering, please do not hesitate to ask our student representatives,’’ the man said, motioning to a group of six students, including Changmin and Gahyeon. ‘’During your first lessons tomorrow, you will be introduced to them on a more personal level.’’

The speech was long, though anything but boring. Classes were divided between day and night. Vampires didn’t really need to stay inside during the day, but their nightly lifestyle was what worked and what was most convenient. The day and night classes would be mixed during breakfast and dinner—as vampires did in fact eat ‘’regular’’ food next to drinking blood—and during leisure time. During lunch however, night class students would be catching sleep, whereas when you went to bed at night, that’s when the night students would have their classes and their respective lunch. More small details about how things went around the academy were told, until the principal started to call out students’ names, and the dorms they would be staying in.

‘’If you would please follow the student representatives to the dorms. Classes start tomorrow morning at 8:00. Once again, welcome to Sagong Academy.’’

Everyone started clapping, then the murmur of excited students took over. You got up at the same time as Jeno did and you made your way to the groups that were forming.

‘’I’ll see you around,’’ Jeno said to you, to which you smiled in reply and nodded.

‘’Yes, seeya.’’

You walked to the girl who was holding a card that said ‘’1C’’ on it, which was the dorm number that the principal had mentioned when he called your name. You joined the group of girls and waited until the student representative started to walk out of the auditorium. Your group followed, the exited murmurs still hovering in the air, as you walked through the building to the west wing. The girls around you were talking way too excitedly to pay any attention to you, which, once again, suited you just fine.

You arrived at the dorm with the 9 other girls in your group, and gathered around the student representative.

‘’My name is Yoohyeon and I’m a fourth year student of the vampire house,’’ the student representative introduced herself.

‘’You’ll share this dorm room among the ten of you, the main common room out there is used by all human students, though you are allowed to spend your free time anywhere else in the building, except for the vampire dorm rooms. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.’’

She continued talking about practical things, like the school uniforms—which were apparently waiting for you on your bed, and information about classes. Your attention really got caught when she started talking about the feeding procedure.

‘’We have to what now?’’ one of the girls piped up.

‘’Donate your blood,’’ Jayeon repeated without blinking. ‘’Humans donate their blood to the vampire students, no less than once a month, no more than two times a week. Only closely monitored and safe amounts at a time, of course. You can decide how many times you want to do it. If you have medical issues, arrangements can be made, of course. You can speak to the school nurse about that.’’

You had heard about donating blood, though a part of you always thought it was just a rumor. Having it confirmed like this made you even more nervous than you already were. The other girls once again broke into excited whispers, and after Yoohyeon took her leave, you picked a bed and unpacked your luggage. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to not feel too homesick. The next few years sure were going to be interesting.

‘’Ah, fresh blood.’’

Juyeon joined Rowoon by the window, both young males now looking down at the groups of first year humans spreading around the courtyard. It was rare to see vampires out and about during the day, simply because most didn’t like to surround themselves with potential triggers. And also because many felt like they were above humans.

‘’Anyone caught your attention yet?’’

‘’Not really. We’ll see, though, once donations start. Think you’ll become a regular this year?’’ Rowoon asked him in return.

‘’Nah, I’m sticking to synthetic for now,’’ Juyeon shook his head. ‘’You know I’m not good at selfcontrol.’’

Rowoon just chuckled softly in return. He remembered all too well how Juyeon had nearly sucked a poor girl dry during one of his first donation sessions. After that the school nurse urged him to switch to synthetic blood for the time being, so he could get used to blood before he learned to control his thirst. Most vampires learned within a few months of transitioning how to resist taking more blood than they needed, but some required a little (or a lot) more time and effort than that.

‘’Well I’m not sticking to synthetic—I can’t wait to try out the newcomers,’’ San smirked as he joined the two older students by the window.

‘’You know it’s going to be at least a few weeks before you get to feed from the vein, right?’’ Rowoon arched an eyebrow at the newborn vampire.

‘’Sure, but it’ll fly by,’’ he said optimistically.

They turned as the door to their common room opened and one of the student representatives entered the room.

‘’Ah, Jaehyun. How was the introduction?’’ Rowoon asked, now walking away from the window.

‘’Interesting. I spotted a few potential recruits, but we’ll have to see,’’ he said with a light shrug.

‘’How about donors? Any with good scents?’’ San pressed, clearly still in the first phase of vampirism, when the hunger was at its peak.

‘’A couple exceptional ones,’’ Jaehyun confirmed with a nod. ‘’I’m sure there will be an argument or two about who gets to request who during donations.’’

Though not usual, it was possible for vampires to request specific humans for blood donations. Since different vampires had different tastes and every human student had to donate blood, there was always plenty of blood for all vampires, but some of the night class students had developed preferences. As some students chose to become vampires after their first year, like San had, some vampires had to make do with the remaining humans and newcomers.

‘’Will your fourth year finally be there year where you drink human blood, too?’’ San asked Jaehyun.

‘’No human blood for me,’’ Jaehyun replied with a shake of his head.

‘’Why not, you were the only one who didn’t struggle when that human girl got a bloody nose in the courtyard last school year,’’ San inquired.

‘’That’s exactly why; I don’t need to satisfy my craving. Synthetic blood works for me and I prefer not to tempt myself when I don’t have to.’’

‘’So mature of you,’’ Seonghwa noted, who had been leaning against one of the many windows in the room, listening to the conversation. Jaehyun chuckled softly at his remark, knowing that the blonde vampire was just teasing him, which was confirmed by the smile on Seonghwa’s lips.

‘’You should try it some time, you might like it.’’

‘’I highly doubt that,’’ Seonghwa said, turning up his nose at the idea of giving up real human blood to the synthetic crap that Jaehyun and Juyeon drank.

‘’Anyway, if you want to get rest before classes tonight, this is the moment,’’ Rowoon announced as he walked to the room of his dorm. Though vampires didn’t really need to sleep, or eat regular food for that matter, both of these things helped with suppressing their ultimate craving for human blood, so most vampires spent a few hours a day resting in bed at least.

‘’I should. See you guys tonight,’’ Juyeon said, following Rowoon to the spiral staircase that led up to the different dorm rooms..

‘’Boring,’’ San sighed, flopping down on the black leather couch in the middle of the sitting area.

‘’Don’t be a baby. Things will soon get interesting around here,’’ Seonghwa said with a wink, before averting his gaze to the courtyard. Very interesting.

‘’Welcome to your first class at Sagong Academy. I am your homeroom teacher, as well as your Ethics teacher, Mrs. Byeon. Please do not hesitate to ask any questions, should you have any.’’

‘’When will we start having to give blood donations?’’ someone asked immediately. You could see that Mrs. Byeon was ticked off by the sudden question, even though she just said questions were welcome, from the slight clench of her jaw.

‘’Actually, your first ones will be made today. You’ll be escorted to the donation wing by one of the student representatives assigned to this class shortly.’’

Even though the subject had been touched upon several times now, nobody had explained how the blood donations actually worked. Did you simply have to sit in a chair while a nurse stuck a needle in your arm so a vampire could suck the blood out of you with a straw?

You shook your head, trying to practically shake the image out of your head, as it made your skin crawl.

When Changmin entered the class with his signature smile on his face, Mrs. Byeon dismissed the class. You grabbed your bag and got up, following the second year student with the rest of your classmates. It was nice walking around the building, as it helped you get to know the place better, though you were sure that you would get lost at some point. You noticed that not only did the human students’ uniforms differ from the vampire uniforms, yours being white and theirs grey, but the lined details came in different colors too.

“They represent what year you’re in. Mine are orange, for second years. Yours are red, which means first years. Third years are yellow, fourth years green, and so forth, all up until the seventh year,” Changmin explained, looking back over his shoulder after you had asked him about it.

‘’Here we are,’’ Changmin said, entering a large room. In the middle of the room stood a large desk, behind which three school nurses were working. Throughout the room were white leather couches with soft looking pillows, some of which were occupied by other human students. Along the left wall of the room were five doors, all of which were closed, and all with a bright red light bulb above them.

‘’Those are the rooms in which the donations take place. If the light bulb is on, it means that the room is being used. The nurses will tell you when it’s time for you to enter a room. You can choose to keep the light on or off inside the room, depending on what makes you the most comfortable. A vampire will bite your neck—don’t worry, their teeth are so sharp you’ll hardly feel anything—and with the use of a blood pressure monitor the school nurse will be able to keep track of your health. Though don’t worry, vampires know exactly when to stop and most choose to do so before it gets unpleasant.’’

You wondered why he would include that last bit of information, as it instantly made you nervous, but you realised that he probably had to mention it as a disclaimer.

‘’The most important thing is to relax. You’ll get used to it, and after a while it’s nothing to be nervous about at all.’’

As you waited, you watched some of the students coming out of the donation rooms. They looked fine, as far as you could tell. They all had a small band aid stuck to their neck, and the nurses handed each of them either a piece of fruit or a cookie, to get their blood sugar level up again.

Seeing the students act so ordinary after giving blood, you felt a little bit calmer. There was nothing to worry about, surely if this was a normal thing here at school, accidents were unusual. Right?

You were about to tap Changmin on the shoulder to ask whether a student had ever died during a donation session, when one of the nurses called your name.

‘’Door number two, please,’’ she smiled, motioning to the second door on the left. You gulped and got up, smoothing out your white skirt, and made your way to the door. You opened it and slowly stepped inside. The room was smaller than you expected, though not any less beautiful that the other areas you had been to so far. There was another door on the wall across from you, the doorframe and knob the same shining gold as everywhere else in the building. In the middle of the square room was a comfortable looking stool with a rich red cushion on it. A small table on the side held a small bottle of water, a few band aids, a wristband of some sort and what seemed to be an instruction card on it. You stepped up to the table and picked up the card.

Please drink at least a small amount of water before donating.

Please place the wristband around your wrist firmly, though not so firm that it cuts off your circulation. The light on the wristband should be green.

When you are ready, please press the red button next to the door frame.

Please take a seat on the stool (facing the door you entered through) and await instructions.

You put the card down and took the bottle of water. You weren’t sure what a few sips of water would do for the blood donating experience, but it helped a little bit to calm your nerves. You took a few gulps, then put the bottle down again and took the wristband. You put it around your wrist, then tightened it so that it sat comfortably against your skin. After a few seconds a small green light on the wristband lit up. So far so good.

You looked at the red button next to the door you entered through, and hesitantly pressed it. You then stepped to the stool and climbed up on it, sitting with your back towards the other door. You took a deep breath and waited for the instructions.

‘’Please choose: lights, on or off,’’ a slightly robotic voice asked you. You hesitated. You weren’t afraid of the dark—you were actually pretty comfortable in it. Though did you really want an unknown vampire feeding from you for the first time in the dark?

‘’Please choose: lights, on or off,’’ the voice asked you again.

What was worse, being fed on by someone while being able to see their face, or not?

‘’Off,’’ you decided, still unsure of your decision. Right now, you’d rather not be confronted with the face of the person who would have your life in their hands for the next few minutes, and having to face them afterwards around school. Especially since you didn’t know whether you would freak out or not. What if it hurt and you screamed? What if they didn’t stop when you started to get dizzy?

The light turned off and you nearly held your breath awaiting what would happen next. A small amount of light entered the room as the door behind you opened and someone entered. The door closed again and you were engulfed in darkness. You expected someone to greet you, or at least say something to indicate that they were there, but it remained quiet. Your body tensed and your heartbeat quickened. They surely wouldn’t just bite you out of the blue, would they? Not only would that be rude, but it would undoubtedly ruin the whole experience for you, scaring you for each and every following time you had to donate—

Your train of thoughts got cut off when you felt someone brush your hair to the side, gently pushing it over your left shoulder, exposing the right side of your neck. You shivered lightly at the sudden touch, even though it was ever so soft. You could feel the person behind you inch closer and… you could have sworn that they sniffed at you.

The tip of their nose brushed lightly against your exposed skin, making you shiver once again. Your heart was beating rapidly and they had hardly even touched you yet.

‘’Hmm…’’ the person hummed softly, the first thing they had said to you at all, if you could even call it ‘saying’ anything.

‘’Nice to meet you, princess.’’

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bleedinghearthalstead · 4 years

Text

SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Enjoy part 5! Crossposted on AO3. Thank you all for your comments and suggestions, I’m working on more, but it’ll take some time.

He scratches the back of his head and chuckles nervously. "So this definitely isn't how I imagined our first date."

Jay Halstead is at a total loss. And with all his usual bravado, this is a bit of a foreign concept to him, so he's mildly freaking out. He really doesn't know where it all went wrong – they're at a fancy restaurant, he's wearing a nice suit and Hailey's in a gorgeous dress, the food is really good and it seemed like Hailey was having a good time. Or so he thought.

After their first meeting at that bank robbery turned hostage situation where they were (not so covertly and quite inappropriately) flirting with each other, they exchanged phone numbers and have been texting for a couple of weeks now. It has only taken them so long to go on a date because their schedules kept conflicting, what with Hailey being a new detective at robbery-homicide and Jay being a full-time member of SWAT. They agreed to wait until Jay was on his two-week training cycle, as it was basically impossible to predict when he might have to gear up when he was on duty. Will recommended the restaurant to him, the swanky bastard, and Hailey seemed really excited about it when he told her he booked a table for them.

Arriving at the restaurant, they were both clearly nervous about their date, giggling like two teenagers, but Jay thought they got over the initial jitters after their first round of drinks. Past the small talk, they were reminiscing about their experiences on the beat and comparing funniest arrest stories. Jay even noticed the couple at the table next to theirs giving them funny looks, when they were loudly laughing as Hailey relegated the story about her training officer thinking that he was stepping into a puddle, but actually dropped down an open and flooded manhole.

But since Jay came back from the restroom after they finished their main courses, Hailey has been giving him what he can only describe as some pretty scathing stink-eye. Thinking he is only imagining it, he goes back to their earlier conversation, but Hailey is reduced to one-word answers and is basically giving him the cold shoulder. Momentarily confused, he tries to lighten the mood with what he thinks is the hilarious story of someone (who had obviously failed) at stalk training in sniper school when they let out a high-pitched shriek in the middle of the exercise because a mouse had crawled up their pant leg. Hailey doesn't laugh.

Jay frowns. "Everything alright?"

Hailey sighs in barely hidden disdain. "I'm good." She pulls out her phone, pretending like she received an urgent message. "I need to go. Should we get the bill?"

Jay's frown deepens, easily detecting her lie. Although it's not like she was trying very hard to make it sound believable. "Sure," he says, although he isn't sure at all. He clears his throat. "Listen, I thought tonight was going pretty well, but if there's anything I said or did…"

His date lets out a humorless laugh. "Oh I'm sure you've done plenty of things. Or should I say plenty of people?"

"Wait, what?"

At his dumbfounded expression, Hailey explodes. "Apparently, I'm the only woman in the whole goddamn Chicago Police that didn't know what kind of a manwhore you are!"

Jay can't believe what he just heard and therefore can't help the loud laugh that bursts out of him. "Excuse me!?"

"There's at least three women at my district alone that you've slept with," Hailey continues. "And apparently there's a lot more!"

"That's fucking ridiculous," Jay growls. He's never been this infuriated by a woman in his life. "Who the fuck told you that?"

"You want me to tell you a name?" Hailey asks incredulously. "So, what, you can slutshame her?"

"Well, you're doing it to me right here and now!"

In the silence that follows, Jay notices that all other sounds in the restaurant have ceased, the other patrons staring at him and Hailey with wide eyes. Hailey takes the break in their screaming match as a chance to stand up from her seat and leave.

"Wait-" Jay jumps up as well, not willing to let her go yet. He vehemently wants to prove to Hailey that that's not who he is. And he wouldn't be Jay Halstead if he didn't make a complete ass out of himself when it came to a beautiful woman. In that moment, a waiter with a full tray of drinks happens to pass by him and in his haste to get up Jay knocks his elbow into the waiter, who in turn spills the whole load of (probably really expensive) wine down Hailey's front. Whoever's attention they didn't have before, they definitely have it now. Hailey is gaping at Jay with a shocked expression, then lets out a frustrated scream – that even Jay flinches at – before she turns on her heel and stomps out of the restaurant.

He's just as shocked as she was, but Jay only hesitates for a second, then quickly pulls out his wallet and drops a hundred dollar bill on the table and rushes out of the restaurant, throwing an embarrassed "sorry" over his shoulder. Looking around on the street, he sees Hailey rounding the corner at the end of the block and sprints after her.

"Hailey, wait!" She does a great job of ignoring him, speed walking to get away from him, but he catches up to her way too soon. Jay is thisclose to grasping her arm to stop her, but wisely decides against it. "Please, just wait for a sec."

She huffs and stops, but keeps her distance. "What do you want."

He scratches the back of his head and chuckles nervously. "So this definitely isn't how I imagined our first date."

Hailey just glares. "What, you thought I'd be an easy lay?"

"What? No!" He deflates. Jay looks… hurt? "I thought we had a real connection."

And now Hailey feels extremely conflicted. Because she thought she had felt that connection too, thought they were incredibly well-matched. Jay is obviously attractive. He is intelligent and funny and he has that razor sharp wit, walking a fine line between genius and sociopath. But he's also compassionate and kind. And then there's also that underlying sense of pain and misery that he can hide very well. But so can Hailey. That part deep, deep inside of her that knows that darkness, that she's been carrying with her since she was a young girl… that part tells her to give him a chance. So despite her urge to run for the hills, the urge to hear him out is bigger.

She sighs and puts her hands on her hips. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Jay looks slightly relieved, then says, "So I'm pretty sure you got a message from Becca, right? She's at the 11th district with you, isn't she?" Hailey only raises an eyebrow at him, although somewhat surprised that he figured it out so quickly. "Anyways, last year, two of my team guys were hitting on these three girls and Becca was kinda fifth-wheeling them. And they needed a third guy so she wouldn't feel left out, so they roped me into it. It was all good and fun, but then Kenny and Sam left with the other two girls and I ended up alone with Becca and she wanted to continue… somewhere more private. But I was having kind of a bad day, I just wanted to get blackout drunk…" He mumbles, "It was the anniversary of something that I don't want to get into right now…" Jay averts his eyes, then clears his throat. "I totally blew her off and got wasted and she's been pretty pissed at me since. Everyone just assumed that we had sex and I guess none of us ever denied it."

Hailey doesn't really know what to say, still feeling conflicted between wanting to believe the other woman or the guy she is feeling a strong connection to, although she doesn't really know him yet.

When he doesn't get a reaction from Hailey, who is still silently staring at him, he sighs. "I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone now." He turns away from her and walks away, rubbing his hands over his face. He can't believe he blew it before it even had the chance to really begin.

"Wanna buy me a beer?" She calls after him.

Jay stops in his tracks and slowly turns back to Hailey. "You sure?"

"Not really." She tilts her head at him and gives him a shy smile. "But you can try to convince me."

He smiles back at her. Even in the dim light, Jay can see that Hailey is shivering. He rolls his eyes at himself, she is basically drenched from head to toe because he's an idiot. "You parked around here? Do you have a change of clothes?" He gestures at her ruined light blue dress that is now more massive red wine stain than dress.

To think that she almost forgot about it, as angry as she just was a minute ago, Hailey looks down at herself and sighs sadly. She really liked that dress too. And now it's disgustingly sticky, clinging to her skin. She shakes her head no. "No, I took an Uber to get here."

"Come on." Jay motions at her to follow him. "My car's parked a block over. I've got some wet wipes and I can give you something to change into." Hailey thinks that she wouldn't normally follow a guy, who is still kind of a stranger to her, back to his car in the dark, but her gut tells her that she can trust him. That she'd follow him anywhere.

Jay leads Hailey to his black jeep, rummaging around in his gym bag and handing her some garments with an apologetic shrug, claiming that those are the only clean things that he has. He lets her change in the backseat of his car, standing watch next to the vehicle. When she emerges, he tries to hide his laugh, but also can't help but think that she looks great in his clothes. Don't get him wrong, she looked absolutely stunning in her blue dress, the color bringing out her eyes beautifully, but this new look is one for the ages. Well, he thinks, she'd look beautiful in anything.

And this is how they end up in a random bar. Jay comes back to their table with a couple of beers and sets one of them down in front of Hailey. He hadn't asked her what she wanted, so good guess on his part. She picks it up and they clink their bottles together. "Cheers."

Hailey is wearing a worn but soft flannel that is a couple of sizes too big on her, paired with some basketball shorts that are dangerously close to sliding off her hips when she moves around too much. She knows she must look ridiculous, but the way Jay is looking at her… and she can't help but feel safe being engulfed in his smell that is so distinctively him, clean soap, peppermint and a hint of gun oil, which she shouldn't know, but already feels so familiar with. Her date has also ditched his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dark button-down shirt, the two top buttons undone. More dressed down and in a less formal setting, they are more relaxed, but there is still an air of nervousness around them. They're quietly drinking their beers, before they start at the same time.

"Listen…"

"Sooo…"

They both laugh at their own awkwardness, then Hailey motions at him to continue, feeling like he has something he needs to get off his chest.

Jay carefully selects his words, trying to gauge her reaction. "I guess you still don't know what or whom to believe – it is her word against mine. And I know it's my own fault that those rumors are floating around… but it gave me a bit of a reputation and I kinda liked that. It kept things fun and non-committal because nobody expected anything more from me. I just thought it'd blow over eventually, but apparently my behavior hurt her more than I thought, if she went out of her way to warn you about me. But if you'll let me, I'd like to show you the real me." He grimaces at his own clichéd wording, then quickly adds with a hopeful smile, "If you're still interested, that is."

Hailey tries to detect any tells that he might be lying, but comes up empty-handed. Either he's a really good liar or he's being sincere. And he's right, it is his word against Becca's. She was surprised when she got the message earlier because even though she knew Becca from the district, they were nowhere near what you'd call friends or even friendly acquaintances. So when she received a text from the other woman telling her that her date was known for womanizing his way through the CPD, she felt betrayed. Betrayed by a man she thought from their personal interactions and text conversations was a really nice and honest guy. Back at the restaurant, she couldn't help but not believe another word coming out of his mouth. But thinking about it now, Hailey realizes that she automatically assumed that the rumors about him were true, even though she herself had been in a similar situation before.

"I dated a cop in my unit before, he was a sergeant. I was meritoriously promoted for a UC case while we were together, but people think that I slept my way to my detective star," she quietly says. She's decidedly not looking at Jay and plays with the label on her beer bottle. "So when I meet guys who are also cops, they either believe that I'm a total skank and will sleep with them at the snap of their fingers or they believe that I'm a real hardass bitch and they feel intimidated."

Jay scoffs. At his reaction, Hailey glances up at him, although her head is still down. "That's not fucking true." Jay puts a hand on her knee and waits for her to fully look him in the eye. "I've seen the way you work. In the debrief at the bank robbery, you were insightful and competent at building a breaching strategy and everyone thought that your plan was best. Like even Trey, and he usually gets a kick out of poking holes in every goddamn plan. And then that disarm you made at the bank…" He whistles lowly and smirks at her. "You're a total badass. You earned that promotion."

Hailey can't help the slight blush creeping up her face. That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about her work. She tries to tone down the massive grin that is forming on her face. "Thanks." She then puts her hand on top of his. "Also, I'm still interested."

Jay smiles and squeezes her knee. "Another round, then?" He gets up and goes to the bar to order them drinks. As Hailey watches him, there's this warm and fuzzy feeling deep inside of her and she's pretty sure that that's not from the alcohol she's been drinking.

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #swat!jay au #first date #awkward babies #bhhfic

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sparrowjaywrites · 5 years

Text

In My Head

(Soulmate AU: You hear your soulmates thoughts but can’t tell them your name or what you look like.)

(Gender Neutral Reader X Cisco Ramon)

You’d heard him since your twelfth birthday, your soulmate. People could begin to hear them at any point in their lives as long as both soulmates where over the age of five. No one really understood how it worked or why some people started hearing soulmates on their fifth birthday and some didn’t hear them until they were in their nineties. The only thing anyone knew for sure outside the age requirements is if one could hear their soulmate, their soulmate could hear them. Oh and of course there where the rules.

Soulmates rules where considered to be as real and unbreakable as the laws of physics, or as unbreakable as they had been before Meta Humans had started running around. Rule One: One could not tell their soulmates their name. Rule Two: One could not tell their soulmate their age. Rule Three: One could not describe themselves to their soulmate. Rule Four: One could not tell their soulmate their location (Discussing future locations could work but no dates or times). Rule Five: One could not block out their soulmate.

The rules where not the only things making finding ones soulmate hard; people could of course fall in love with people who weren’t their soulmate whether they could hear them or not. It wasn’t uncommon for people to wake up one day able to hear their soulmates only to find their soulmates where happily married and soulmate or not they were not willing to leave their marriage or their kids. Many people who ended on the unhappy side of these situations would end up taking their own lives within the year. This had prompted the invention of a device that could severe a soulmate connection; this severance could end very badly and had been banned in most countries, but some desperate people still found a way when needed.

You had begun hearing your soulmate at twelve; you’d nicknamed him Westley after learning his obsession with the movie Princess Bride. In response he’d tried to nickname you Buttercup, that hadn’t ended well. After a few weeks of arguing he’d come up with the nickname Starlight, he would never tell you why.

Westley was an interesting guy, way too smart for his own good sometimes, hilarious, obsessed with pop culture, sassy as all hell, and very good at reading people, even when they were simply a voice in his head. His favorite color is purple although that does tend to change weekly, his favorite Pokémon is Bulbasaur, and he really likes superheroes.

You had decided not long after meeting him in your head the first time that you would find him someday. Of course the particle accelerator blowing up had put a damper on that for a while. When ones soulmate died the other wouldn’t know it, they would simply stop responding to them.

When the particle accelerator had blown up, you had been thrown through a window by the dark matter blast, your injuries resulting in a yearlong coma. When you had woken up it had taken a few weeks for the connection to reactivate and Westley had flipped out. He’d thought you had died. You hadn’t told him why you had been in a coma for so long not wanting him to know you were a Meta human, scared of what he’d think.

You’d woken up a Meta human nearly five years ago now, and had yet to meet Westley in person. He’d dated on and off during that time, hesitantly but excitedly telling you about his current relationship as he always had in high school. You had also dated of course but not as recently. At nearly thirty you just wanted to meet Westley in real life, you had fallen in love with him years ago, although you’d never tell him that. He was your closest friend, for obvious reasons.

‘Morning, Starlight, what are you up too today?’ You smile shaking your head as you slip a strand of (H/C) hair behind your ear.

‘Coffee at the shop, while I work on my book.’ You respond sipping your medium flash with vanilla bean creamer.

‘I’m getting coffee right now, maybe this is the day we’ll meet?’ Westley responds excitedly.

‘Of course, you’ll trip and spill coffee on me like in all the cliché fanfictions your always telling me to read on Tumblr.’ You snicker.

‘What makes you think I’ll be the one spilling the coffee? Who says it wouldn’t be the other way around?”

‘Because for one, I’m sitting down, and two even if I was walking I’m more coordinated then you.’

‘Are not! You trip over everything!’

‘Exactly and your still a bigger klutz, that’s my point.’

‘Well I never.’ He huffs mockingly laughing lightly. You snicker smiling at the laugh. The day passed as usual you spent your morning at Jitters working on your book interrupted every twenty minutes or so by Westley making a joke or asking you something. Your afternoon was spent working on tech for your company, (Y/L/N) Technologies.

‘I just looked at the sky and thought of you, my Starlight.’ You let out a small snort at the pickup line you’d heard a million times before.

‘I like the line and all Westley, but you need new ones.’

‘As you wish.’ You let out another laugh causing people to glance at your; you bow your head with a blush.

‘Shut up, you’re making people stare at me.’

‘Oh am I?’ That mischievous tone is one you know well, and it spells trouble. ‘Hmm maybe I should just look up something to read to you then?’

‘Don’t you…’

‘Here we go, the five times Luke walked in on Han and Leia and he one time they walked in on him, this will be a most interesting read wouldn’t you say, Starlight?’

‘Westley, I swear to god!’ You groan your face a bright red as you wish for the line to move faster or for your obnoxious soulmate to shut the fuck up.

‘Luke was bored, he wanted to go for a ride in the Falcon, but Han was not where to be found. Oh well he would just go for his ride and Han would never need to know… as he entered the Falcon he found something a strange, a random black boot sat in the doorway as if thrown there. Shrugging he steps inside more clothing were spread down the hall leading to the cockpit… oh double meaning!’ Westley reads dramatically clearly getting a huge kick out of your annoyance and protests.

“A large flash to go with vanilla bean creamer please.” You order doing your best to keep a straight face.”

‘Luke’s eyes widened as he froze in place, in the captain’s chair was his twin sister, in far less clothing then he’d ever seen before, on top of her was his best friend in a similar state of dress. “Oh, Han, yes!” Luke quickly turned on his heel running for his life wishing he hadn’t seen that!’

‘Westley that’s gross, knock it off!’

‘It is pretty badly written, I’m sure you could write it better!’ Westley laughs.

‘Would you shut up, you damn idi…’ Your train of thought is derailed as a dagger spins past your face lodging in the counter in front of you. It glowed with a golden orange. You spin around in time to see a person in a black coat with a hood and mask standing in the doorway as people start screaming around you. The person holds out a black clad hand the dagger spinning from the counter into it.

You take a step back; dropping your coffee clenching your fist silver sparks crackle around it for half a second before suddenly failing. Why weren’t your powers working?

‘Starlight?’ Before you can answer the dagger is spinning towards you, just before it can hit you’re tackled to the ground by a dark skinned woman with long black hair.

“Are you okay?” The woman asks quickly.

“Y… yeah, I think so.” You nod moving to your feet, pulling your gun from your ankle holder as you do, the dagger spins back across the coffee shop into the monstrous Meta’s hand.

“It’s time for you to die.” The Meta says stalking towards them. You drag the woman who saved you to the side as the dagger spins towards them again. You raise your gun.

“Back off.” The Meta throws the dagger again, you open fire, one bullet bounces off the dagger sending it off course, the Meta quickly dodges the other.

“Are you a Meta human?” The woman from before asks you. “She’s after Meta’s that’s the new Cicada.” You blink at her looking back at the woman firing two more rounds that miss, embedding in the now empty of patrons shop walls.

“Yes, I am.” You admit.

“Leave them alone.” A vibrating voice joins the madness as a red steak appears in front of them, less than a foot away stood the Flash. Westley would be having a field day right now if he where there, he loved Meta Heroes.

“Good, I can kill you too.” A purple blur suddenly shows and the next thing you know you are being set down in what looks like a lab of some type. Computer monitors surround you. The woman from the shop quickly rushes over to a computer talking to the Flash through a headpiece. Moments later XS and the Flash are standing in front of you.

“Are you okay?” Flash asks gently taking your gun from your hands. You blink still processing where you are.

“Um… I… uh,” You run a hand through the back of your (H/L) hair nervously, when did your hands start shaking? “I think so… where am I?”

“This is Star Labs; we brought you here to get away from Cicada.” The woman speaks up. You slowly nod.

“Okay… why the hell is this Cicada after me in the first place?”

“She wants all Meta humans dead.” XS explains.

“How would she even know I’m a Meta? No one and I mean literally no one knew but me before tonight.” You protest crossing your arms.

“The dagger she was using has the power to block powers, it glows when near a Meta human, you probably were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Flash explains. You nod frowning.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“We’ve gotten most of the Meta’s out of the city and into hiding?” A woman with long brown hair says entering the room followed by a man who you were pretty positive was Harrison Wells, which made no sense as he’d been dead for four years, a tall dark skinned man, the DA, Elongated Man, and Vibe… who was another person you thought was dead.

“I can’t just up and disappear.” You protest looking around at the super heroes in front of you.

“Protective custody is your best shot.” The man suggests stepping forwards and showing you his badge, Detective Joseph West, the DA’s husband and the head of the Meta task force at the CCPD, you’d met him once after the particle accelerator had blown up.

“If this lady is after Meta’s then why haven’t all of you left?” You challenge motioning to the Meta heroes.

“Because we’re trying to stop Cicada and this is our home.” Elongated Man says.

“Exactly, this is your home. Central City is my home; I’m not going to run away because some new psycho with a thing for leather and hypocrisy wants me dead.”

“If you don’t go you’ll die. We can’t protect you all the time.” Flash argues.

“I can protect myself.” You shake your head.

“Your powers won’t work around Cicada.” The DA speaks up.

“I wasn’t referring to my powers, and if powers don’t work against them, then I’m on an even playing field as all of you.”

“We’re not going to be able to convince you are we?” Flash sighs shoulders slumping a bit.

“Nope.” Flash shares a look with the woman from Jitters and XS two blurs disappearing down the hall, followed by everyone but Detective West. The two of you stand there awkwardly for a few minutes before the group enters again.

“I’m Iris, this is Caitlin and Sherloque.” The woman from Jitters introduces herself motioning to the brown haired lady and the Harrison Wells look alike. “That’s Cecille,” She motions to the DA. “And I’m sure you know who the different heroes are?”

“I do.”

“What’s your name?” Flash asks.

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), most people call me (Y/N/N).” You introduce yourself smirking when she sees the Flash’s eyes widen.

“The CEO and founder of (Y/L/N) Tech?” You nod with a snort.

“Yup.”

“Oh…” XS says eyes wide, looking surprised. A few people look at her questioningly; she shakes her head at them with the universal gesture for later.

“What are your powers?” Detective West asks.

“Do I have immunity for anything I say here?” You ask narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not a criminal but I’d rather not regret this little meeting later?”

“Of course.” Cecille speaks up, smiling at you.

“Any of you heard of the vigilante people are calling Starlight?”

“Yeah.” Iris nods.

“You’re looking at them.” You gesture to yourself.

“But you look nothing like them?” Elongated Man says shocked. You snort. You push a few buttons on your watch; thin strands of metal quickly cover your body from your watch, your belt and your glasses. A simple black suit covers you, silver specks shimmering throughout. Metal wraps around your glasses turning them more into a mask. You clench your fists then open them, shimmering silver sparks quickly spread over the suit making the effect look like a shimmering night sky full of stars, your hair floats up a bit turning a shimmering silver, your (Y/E/C) eyes quickly turning a soft silver. “Whoa…”

“That’s amazing.” Flash laughs. XS is grinning now looking beyond excited.

“Okay, that’s cool.” Detective West says pointing at you.

“That’s wicked.” Vibe laughs grinning; he’d been silent so far looking at you as if trying to figure something out. Your eyes snap to him. You knew why he’d been staring at you now… his voice you recognized it… you’d heard it every day since you were twelve.

“Well since we know your identity it’s only fair.” Flash shrugs looking at the others who nod. He removes his mask, and holds a hand out to you, his brown hair now free from the rubber. “Barry Allen.” You look at his hand having to drag your eyes away from Vibe. You shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“This is Nora, Ralph, and Cisco.” Barry motions in order to XS, Elongated Man, and Vibe. You look Vibe over without his glasses, he was cute, Hispanic, with flowing black hair, a kind smile. You deactivate your suit, letting your powers subside, your hair and eyes quickly changing back to normal.

“Well, (Y/N/N) if you won’t leave we’ll have to figure something out.” Barry says smiling at you.

“You could join team Flash?” Nora speaks up stepping forward smiling hopefully at Barry. “You’d make a great addition!” You raise an eyebrow.

“Nora, a word please?” Iris speaks up. The two step out Barry following.

“So, Starlight? I see where you get the name.” Cisco approaches you as the rest of the group follow Nora seemingly to join the conversation you can hear getting heated in the hallway.

“I had the nickname long before I became a Meta.” You eye him up and down. “But I think you figured that out… Westley?” Cisco breaks into a grin.

“I thought I recognized your voice.”

“I recognized yours as soon as you spoke.” You laugh. “But to be sure.” You hold your hand out to him. Cisco takes your hand hesitantly. A slight jolt shots up your arm.

‘So Westley, my name is (Y/F/N)… holy shit, it is you!’ You think to him slowly grinning as you realize the rules were gone. When a person first made physical contact with their soulmate after their connection was made the rules would break allowing them to talk more freely from then on.

‘I can’t believe it’s really you…’ Cisco thinks back grinning just as widely. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Starlight. I’m Francisco Ramon, I’m your soulmate.” Cisco says out load.

“It’s wonderful to meet you too, Cisco.”

~~~

AN: And that’s the end of Part One? I may do a few more parts?

#cisco ramon #cisco ramon x reader #reader x cisco ramon #reader insert #The Flash #Soulmate #soulmate au #gender neutral reader

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tahthetrickster · 6 years

Text

His Feet Stained Red

a quick original writing exercise!! i realized today that i haven’t ever tried my hand at a southern gothic style piece and decided to give it a go! i hope y’all enjoy it :)

There's something about a summer evening in the backwoods of Georgia that makes a man want to settle up.

Maybe it's the nights out on the back porch, watching the neighbor kids running 'round in bare feet with Mason jars in their hands to fetch lightning bugs, admiring them at home for a night or two before they die in the jar. Maybe it's the dull, constant hum of the zapper by the porch swing, flaring up as the swarms of summertime moths take their annual Icarian flight into the light. Maybe it's the return of the little local church's Backyard Bible Clubs, the kids dusting graham cracker crumbs off sticky lips and chubby hands and finishing out the Lord's Supper with thimble-sized cups of Welch's Grape Juice.

If you asked me, I'd tell you it's the way the summer heat crashes over you when you walk out your back door, washing over every inch of bared skin in an instant. It's reminiscent of when Brother Aubrey's wife—God rest her soul—would bake bread in the cramped church kitchen, tossing a cup of water into the oven base, scalding steam curling around her bony white fingers as she shut it up again. It's the way the air itself settles on you, heavy as anything, scorching and sticky with humidity, making even drawing your breath a struggle for all the moisture. “Air you can wear,” my granny used to call it years past.

It only takes one Sunday evening of sweating through your sundress in the rickety old pews, fervently fanning yourself with your tithing envelope and cursing the busted window unit, to realize that you don't never wanna go somewhere that's hotter than this.

I reckon that's why folks are more pleasant in the summertime down here in the back end of nowhere. More willing to lend you a hand tool, or offer up a glass of sweet tea in exchange for some help out in the yard. More liable to show up to church on time, filling out the back pews but for the few aging deacons who still took the front.

More liable to try damn near anything they could to make sure they were well-respected in town. I reckon they figured it would transfer over in the end. Still not sure where on God's green earth they got that idea from. I sure don't remember my daddy ever reading that passage in the old leather-bound red-letter.

I reckon that's the reason he came up every summer. Wasn't no exception this year.

He always came up from the road that led down to the swamps, his bare feet stained red from the ruts dug into the old clay dirt road he walked on. My house—my daddy's house, before he passed some years back, God bless him—was the furthest one down that road. I suppose that's why I always saw him before anybody else did. I suppose that's why I never had much to discuss with him.

It was always an unspoken rule growing up in my daddy's house. Don't say nothing to nobody that comes up the road from the swamp if you ain't seen 'em go down into the swamp first.

He was black as night but for his feet stained red, and didn't ever have a scrap of cloth on him. If you weren't looking out for him, you might never even see him in the pitch black of the evening.

"Evening, ma'am," he called up to me as he approached. I nodded politely, leaning over the arm of the wooden rocking chair to spit into the brass jug on the floor. He stepped into the circle of my porch light and grinned up at me. Were it not for his bright white teeth and eyes the color of Georgia red clay, he'd've looked like a man-shaped hole cut out of the air. "Nice night, innit?"

I reached over to flick a spent cicada husk from the porch railing. "Yessir." I watched him for a moment, mulling over the pinch of dip held under my lip. "Hot as the Devil's own, though."

That made him throw his head back and laugh, revealing a blood-red tongue that came to a point in a mouth the color of pitch. "I'm looking for work," he professed at last, still staring, still grinning. "You know how hard it is to find work these days. Do you, perhaps, need some help? I'm willing to do anything."

For an instant it seemed that the whole world went mute from the sheer intent in his voice.

"Sir." I paused for a moment, running my tongue over the packed dip thoughtfully, the only sound besides the cicadas and the nearby bullfrog the soft creak of my rocking chair on the wooden porch floor. I spat into the jug again. "Can't say that I want for much of anything, I'm afraid." I nodded at the porch stairs. "Why don't you sit a spell? Too damn hot to do much anything. Hottest damn night we've had in a while."

His smile vanished for a moment.

When it returned, it was sharper, an unnatural slant to the sides of his mouth. "You know, I believe I will."

He said nothing when he sat on the steps, simply watching me and grinning with that too-fake smile of his. I didn't say nothing neither, leaning back in my chair to enjoy a mild breeze brushing against my flushed skin. My nearest neighbor was still nearly a mile and a half back, as the crow flies, but if I strained my ears against the sounds of the evening, I could just hear the staticky twang of that old country radio station she liked to play at all hours on the wind.

I spat again. "You take dip, sir?" I was already packing the tin against my knee.

His eyes nearly glowed as I held out the open tin. The pinch he took seemed far too big, but he packed it in expertly anyway and grinned broadly up at me. "For the road, then." And he stood again, far taller than he appeared to have stood before.

"Best walk on home," I advised, leaning back in my chair. "Past the witching hour now. Haints might be out to get you."

He laughed again, a jittering, hooting sound, and stooped to spit in the jug. "Soon, soon, soon. I still gotta get somebody willing to barter some work with me. Got any neighbors you wouldn’t mind pointin’ me towards?" I held his gaze evenly as I spat again. He grinned up at me, wide and feral, teeth stained with tobacco. "You're a saint, ma'am."

I waved him off. "Just as much a sinner as the rest of us." I ran my tongue over my dip again, watching him carefully. "Some of us more’n others."

He hooted with delighted laughter, thanked me again, and went off down the road, heading on his usual pilgrimage down the old dirt street towards town, his feet stained red in the night, leaving no sign he’d ever been by but for the shallow cloven prints in the Georgia red clay.

#writing #original #His Feet Stained Red #long post #(sorry!!! mobile wont let me insert line breaks or readmores!!!)

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firesoulstuff · 5 years

Note

4+8 for Killervibe?

4. Mistaken for a couple

8. Amnesia

Forget Everything

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19177960/chapters/45586183

He blinks.

That’s… That’s pretty much all he knows how to do. That and breathe, He must know more, right? Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, buried deep down somewhere, there must be something else. A skill, some facts, at least a name, right?

Shit, what is his name?

“Excuse me?”

“GAH!” He jumps and spins around with the loud, rather undignified, screech, and his arms held out in front of him as if to attempt to fight off whatever owns the hand that just tapped his shoulder, though he probably wouldn’t win with this spastic form.

Why does he know anything about improper form?

It doesn’t matter, the newcomer isn’t a danger, or he doesn’t think so at least. She’s a woman about his age, with honey colored hair and a frightened frown. There’s something about her that’s more than familiar to him, something more than maybe he’s seen her before or even maybe he knows her. He can’t put his finger on it, but something about her just puts him at ease.

She looks like home.

“I’m sorry.” She cringes, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just wondering if you know where we are?”

He shakes his head. “No.” He answers, “Sorry I uh… I don’t even know my own name right now.”

She gives him a sympathetic little smile, and a huff.

“Me either.” She admits.

He nods, and then he finally starts to look around. There are buildings not too far off in the distance, and freshly mowed grass around them, along with other people busy living their lives.

The word park comes to mind. He doesn’t really know what it means, but it feels right.

“So uh, do we stay where we are or walk around?”

She’s frowning when he looks back to her, one hand perched over her eyebrows to block out the sun as she too surveys their surroundings.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to stay put when you’re lost.”

“Whose gonna come looking for us?” He snarks before really thinking about it, “Two other amnesiacs?”

Oh sure, he remembers what amnesia is but he can’t remember his own name.

At least she isn’t offended by his remark, the opposite, actually. She gives him a smile that is all white teeth framed by red lips and accompanied by a soft chuckle.

“Fair point.” She says, and then without any further hesitation she starts walking.

He falls into step beside her, the smile her smile put on his face still there.

They walk through the park until they reach the end and then decide to venture into the city, deciding they might have a better shot there at running into someone who can explain to them what is going on, who they are, and/or why they can’t remember anything.

They speculate the whole way on all of these points. This woman, whoever she is, is smart. Like, really smart. She rattles off the most common and uncommon causes of amnesia like it’s nothing, and when he asks how she knows these, she shrugs and says she has no idea but then starts explaining freaking brain chemistry to him.

“Ok,” He says as they round the corner of yet another city block. “Well whoever we are you’ve got to be a doctor or something, that or you watch an unhealthy amount of… what’s that show called?”

She shrugs, “I have no idea. Amnesia, remember?”

“No,” It’s a cross between a groan and a laugh. “No it’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s some kind of weird… it’s this thing you watch, other people on a screen and all the stuff if fake, and the fake stuff is called a show… crap. I can’t think of it, but it’s this thing all about doctors, and there are like, ten of them. Not ten doctors, ten shows about them, and you must watch a lot of them if you aren’t a doctor.”

She shrugs again, “I think I know what you’re talking about, though I don’t remember watching anything with doctors in it.”

“Then you are a doctor.” He decides firmly, but she’s stopped walking, staring up at a sign on a building. “What is it?” He asks, also looking up at the sign.

C.C. Jitters

“I… I think I know this place.” She says, and yeah, he thinks he does too.

He feels around his pockets until he finds a lump and fishes out a wallet. Idiot, why hadn’t he thought of this earlier? He’s looking for money, which he does find, but more importantly he finds an I.D. with his face and name on it. Cisco Ramon.

“Hey,” he says, showing it to her. “Do you have one of these?”

Her eyes widen briefly at the sight of his, and she starts to pat herself down in search but then quickly realizes that her dress didn’t come with pockets.

“No, I must have left mine somewhere.”

He nods, then leafs through his again to make sure he has enough money for both of them, even if he can’t remember exactly how much is enough.

“Well why don’t we go in here, maybe it’ll jog something? My treat.”

“Ok, thank you.”

He nods and then follows her into the shop. It’s fairly crowded, but he gets the feeling he’s seen it much busier.

“Ok, you get a table, I’ll get the drinks.” He says, then he pauses, his face screwed as he looks at her. “What do you like?”

She gives a very dramatic shrug at that, which is fair.

“I don’t know. Uh… Just get me whatever you get.”

Right, ok, he can do that. Soon as he figures out what he likes.

Two customers in front of him, and then letting a third cut in order to buy himself more time, is not long enough to read the entire menu AND figure out what it is he might want. He eliminates the more expensive stuff right away, along with anything green. There are a few things with bizarre names and he rules out maybe half of those, and then it’s his turn.

“Hello.” The barista greets him, voice cheery and smile big, though it drops a bit when he approaches and he’s going to attribute that to the absolute confusion that is likely on his face.

“Hi,” He says, “Uh….” Oh forget it, he has no idea what to order. “Ok this, this might sound a little weird, but have I been here before?”

The barista actually laughs at him, but he’ll count that as a good sign. She doesn’t laugh long, clearly realizing he isn’t joking and she quickly composes herself.

“Yeah, you and your girlfriend over there are here all the time.”

At that he whips his head around, his eyes searching the café for the woman he’s spent the day with, and when he finds her he turns urgently back to the barista.

“That’s my girlfriend?” He asks in a hushed whisper, as if he’s afraid she’ll overhear from across the dining room and come set him straight.

The barista, meanwhile, suddenly looks panicked.

“I… I mean we all thought so, I’m sorry, we shouldn’t assume. My mistake. It’s just you guys have been coming in here together for years and you’re always so close to each other, we all thought you were a thing.”

His heart is pounding. There’s no way that she is his girlfriend. He may not remember a whole lot about himself right now, or about her for that matter, but he can tell she is WAY out of his league. She’s obviously a genius, throughout their speculating of their lives he’s determined she’s incredibly sweet, and not to mention she’s gorgeous. He could never be with someone like her, no way.

“Do you just want your usual’s?” The barista asks, yanking him from his thoughts, and he nods, frantic.

She soon returns with two lattes, and she’s kind enough to tell him which one is his and which is “his girlfriend’s.” He’s afraid to ask if she knows “his girlfriend’s” name, so he doesn’t; he’s humiliated them both enough for one day.

“Ok,” He says when he reaches the table and slides the drink for the woman (he can’t think “his girlfriend” one more time without exploding into happiness) in front of her.

“The barista apparently knows what we order, so here you are. One iced vanilla latte.”

“She knew us?” She asks; her drink going mostly ignored as he sits down. “Does she know anything about us?”

He winces, maybe he should’ve asked for her name.

“She um-”

“Guys!”

Oh thank God.

He looks past the woman, who turns around. There are three people rushing towards them, two men and a woman; they all look vaguely familiar.

“See? I told you they’d be here!” One of the men, tall with spiked blonde hair, says.

The other two don’t pay much attention to his exclamation, instead they start asking for how much they remember and then start some weird half explanation of a meta, whatever that is.

“Come on.” The woman finally says, “We can explain everything back at S.T.A.R. Labs.”

S.T.A.R. Labs, that sounds familiar.

He looks from her to the woman he’s been with all day, he won’t go if she doesn’t want to. She seems to have the same sentiment in her eyes.

“Here, look.” The other man, the skinny one with a baby face, says as he holds up a small screen for them both to see, swiping his thumb across it to reveal new pictures containing any combination of the five of them with each swipe. “We’re friends. We want to help you.”

He does believe that, especially upon seeing the pictures, but he looks to the woman again and this time she nods and gets up.

“Ok,” she agrees, “Lead the way.”

With bright smiles the three newcomers do just that, and Cisco makes sure to take his time taking one last sip of his drink so it’s just him and the skinny guy a few feet behind the others.

“Hey,” he says quietly to the guy, “Might be a weird question, but is she my girlfriend?”

He points discreetly to the woman, the one he’s been with, not the one who had shown up with the two guys.

The guy laughs, “Caitlin?” He asks, “Nah man, you guys are just good friends.”

His heart sinks.

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stylinsonlibrary · 6 years

Note

hey do you have anymore witch fics?

WITCH FIC REC

you’ve got this spell on me (everything you do is magic) by teenagedenigma (2k)

Harry accidentally turns Louis into a cat. He doesn't know how he's going to fix it, but he does know he'd better do so before he has to deal with Louis's wrath.

my only familiar by graceana (3k)

louis’ a witch and harry’s his familiar and no one can come between them.

“There’s my boy,” Louis coos, then stands on slightly raised toes to kiss Harry’s pink lips.

“Missed you,” Harry replies, his voice deep and raspy, as it always is right after he changes into his human form.

Everything You Do Is Magic by headlinecreative (5k)

October is a month of magic. Most carry on with their lives thinking that leaves change color from science and that the pumpkins no one has seen growing all year actually came from the ground. But others know the truth. That some possess the power to create life and take it away. Harry was one of those people.

(or the one where Harry and Zayn are witches, Liam and Louis are new in town, Niall may or may not be magic, and Harry thinks nothings better than the feeling of magic, till something is)

Always Darkest before the Sunrise (7k)

Salem, Massachusetts, 17th century.

“You have attacked without need and without mercy, you have used arts so dark they are of the Evil One, and for that you cannot be allowed to walk free.”

What?

Harry starts struggling. It’s no use, he’s not even doing it with any sort of rational plan, the whole town at this point stands between him and freedom, but the words leaking from the preacher’s lips are filling him with a bile more sickening than he’s ever known.

“Harry Styles, ward of the church no longer, you are under arrest for the use of witchcraft against the innocent townspeople of Salem, Massachusetts.”

Babe, There’s Something Lonesome About You by patdkitten (8k)

Louis is a hedge witch, who lives a lonely, solitary life. He's quite happy with his shop in Door County, selling New Age magics to the tourists. He also has his cats and his birds to keep him company. But his best friend Liam thinks he needs someone around, and he's got just the person: Liam's friend Harry is coming to the area for the tourist season and since Louis has all this space....

Love Potion Number 9 by noellehenry (9k)

Harry is a witch, albeit a clumsy witch. His spells never work out quite as he expects them to and his potions are at least hazardous. He is, however, talented in the kitchen: his pumpkin pie cupcakes are heavenly. He bakes them as a welcome gift for his new hot neighbour...

Dusk Till Dawn by larryandgaystuff (9k)

Bewitched by ReadInTheAM (11k)

Louis is a modern day witch. No, he doesn't have green skin or pointed hats and he definitely doesn't have warts covering his face.

However, he does have a cat familiar, Harry.

And though Louis' witchiness doesn't bother his normal life, he does get into some trouble while he was out of the house. Or at least, Harry does.

taken by the wind by lightofathousandstars (12k)

When he decided to move to London with his sister, Harry thought he would finally get to learn how to control his magic. He couldn't possibly have predicted that he would fall for her neighbour.

Or the one where Harry is a clumsy witch and Louis is making everything worse just by existing.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic by oopsiedaisy (12k)

“I bet,” Harry says softly before adding, “I could help you maybe? With your magic?”.

“Oh yeah,” Louis asks and motions her head towards the burnt flowers still smouldering in their vase. Harry's top lip quirks up on one side, “Hey. That was a real life magic show I put on for you.”

“Well what are you gonna teach me then Houdini?”

Louis is a witch with no magical powers who joins a local coven she finds on craigslist. Harry is the earth witch convinced she can help Louis find her powers with flowers, baby mice and everything nice.

Witch Harry by QuickedWeen (series; 2 works; 15k)

Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

Burn by anchortied (21k)

Louis is plagued by nightmares of being burned at the stake. Every time he closes his eyes he can see the flames, smell the smoke, taste the acrid smell of his own death in his nostrils. There is nothing he fears more than this.

Besides being something other than what he truly is. Which is, to say in the very least, a powerful witch. One of the most powerful in in the world, as far as he knows. His magic can't even be matched by Liam, who learned quicker than anyone he's ever met, or Niall, who's magic fire could burn through a whole village in a mere moment if he wanted to.

When Louis meets Harry however, he realizes that his magic isn't as strong as he thought. And as he tries to navigate through this magic, and the trials of friendships and lost loves that come along with it, Louis finds that being powerful is more of a plague than he realized. A plague that infects more people than he is comfortable with.

(A Witch AU based off of The Craft -a very loose interpretation)

Nocturnal Creatures Are Not So Prudent by patdkitten (24k)

Louis spins a finger in midair, like he’s indicating someone to turn around, staring pointedly at Liam as the faucet turns itself on and the can rinses itself in the sink behind him. Liam, moon burn him, doesn't rise to the bait, choosing instead to lean back on his stool and wrapping his hands around his own mug.

“Anyway, like I was saying and that you were ignoring, there's this new club near my school and I want you to go with me. Could do you some good, getting out once in awhile.”

Louis is a white witch with a little black cat named Hemlock and a best human friend Liam (they're a lot like Samantha Stephens and Louise Tate). When he's dragged out to a new club Liam's heard about from a friend and classmate, Louis comes face to face with that which witches do not touch: a charming vampire by the name of Harry.

love is divine by stylinsoncity (25k)

Being a witch doesn't help when it comes to unrequited love.

parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme by MediaWhore (series; 2 works; 27k)The one where Harry is a cursed witch living in a small town and Louis is the Detective Inspector who crossed his path.

A Practical Magic AU

Bewitched by Snowy38 (28k)

"I've got Louis."

He didn't mean it to come out that menacing but the naturally deep lilt of his voice wasn't helping. The female on the other end of the phone gave a hysterical squeal.

"Please! Don't hurt him!"

Harry frowned, lip protruding sullenly in mild offence.

"I'm not-I'm not going to hurt him," he argued.

"What do you want?" The woman cried, voice wobbling with emotion.

Harry frowned.

"I want Louis," he answered because wasn't that much already obvious? Maybe Louis' family were just really thick.

Work of Magic by Bekita (34k)

Even though centuries had passed since the Spanish Inquisition and the burning of Witches, these beings with magical powers still existed, in seclusion, always trying to avoid the attention of the persecuting Hunters.

The Sweetest Incantation by smittenwithlouis (40k)

Harry has been alive for decades, and yet he's never been as confused and dumbfounded. He's a witch, for God's sake. Can't get much weirder than all the magical things he's experienced throughout his lifetime. Never in a million years, however, would he have expected to be mere inches away from a hybrid. Or: Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

i never did believe in the ways of magic (though i’ve a feeling it’s time to try) by binarysunsets (55k)

Louis can’t shake the feeling that there’s something in the woods, pressing close and watching him with a heavy gaze. It makes him antsy, fills him with jitters. He wants to run, or scream, but he knows to do so would only put him in danger if there’s actually something out there after all. He’s sure he’s just imagining it, but his heart nevertheless pounds in his throat.

When Louis Tomlinson goes on a songwriting retreat to the Laurentian Mountains of Canada, this isn't how he expects his evening to go.

or the au where Louis is a singer who has been cursed to never make music again and Harry is a reclusive witch of the Canadian mountains who's going to help him break the curse.

domestic monsters by g_uttertrash (series; 8 completed works/1WIP; 234k)

Bewitched by photo41 (series; 2 completed works; 1 WIP; 241k)

#larry stylinson #larry stylinson fic rec #larry fic rec #stylinsonlibrary #witch #magical realism #fantasy #asks #masterpost #anonymous

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