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mdawritings · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 13

II.II

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Song(s): “Mr. Perfectly Fine” by Taylor Swift

You find yourself having more sleepless nights than ever before. Every time you close your eyes you’re facing the terrifying horrors your brain has managed to conjure up. The sounds of people screaming for help as debris rains down around you. You’re fighting against the arms of two firemen. Someone has to help them!

Your alarm is still hours away from ringing, yet you glance at the time every few minutes, every minute dragging along like it’s an hour. Your eyes are glued to your ceiling fan, watching as it swings back and forth slightly with each rotation of the blades.

After your first case with the BAU, things have started to slow down. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have cases every single day of the week. Most of your days of work are summarized by piles and piles of paperwork. The team seems to be perpetually behind on every case report. The team tries to write up a general profile for every case that requests the BAU assistance that you can’t help with in person. In addition, Strauss loves to load the whole team with special talking events and lecture series. There’s hardly a day where everyone is in the office at the same time and when you are, you’re all soon called away on a case.

You haven’t been called away on a case since your first with the team. You actually don’t mind doing paperwork most of the day. The main reason is that it gives you an easy way to stay away from Hotch. You’ve jokingly struck up a deal that for every one of your files that Reid walks up to Hotch’s office for you, you’ll buy him a coffee. So far you owe him nearly two weeks of coffee.

Hotch is not completely oblivious. He’s caught on to your little game and so far, he’s been kind enough to give you some distance. He’s stopped pressuring you to talk to him. Maybe he finally sensed the raw emotion of your voice the other day in his office.

You resign yourself to the fact that you’re not going to fall back to sleep before your alarm rings. You pull the sheets off of you, kicking your feet off to the side, wrapping your arms around your body tightly as a shiver runs through you. The temperature in Virginia is dropping rapidly as winter takes over. You love when it’s cold. You love the way the cold, blustery air bites at your skin and makes you tingly. It’s a nice reminder that you’re alive. After everything you’ve been through, you’re still standing. You can still feel something. You can feel the cold.

You go through the motions of your morning routine, taking a shower to wake yourself up, brushing your teeth, pulling on some slacks and a nice blouse. You turn on some music while you get ready but even your favorite songs can’t seem to pull your head out from the haze you are living in recently. Your body is working on autopilot because before you know it, you’ve finished your makeup. It’s not even 6 AM.

You pop half of a bagel into the toaster, make a cup of coffee in your thermos, and then cover the bagel with cream cheese and honey. You look around your half-empty apartment, taking your time to eat your small breakfast.

Today is just going to be one of those particularly difficult and painful days. You can sense it. Your body feels lit up with nerves. Eating your breakfast is difficult, just the taste of the food making you sick to your stomach.

Your thoughts bounce between two topics: your past in the FBI and your past with Aaron Hotchner. It’s hard to believe that the Aaron Hotchner you see every day is the same Aaron Hotchner you once knew. You glance at the time, if you don’t leave soon you‘ll miss the train and be stuck at home for another hour. You rush out the door, walking to the train station. You settle into a seat, pulling your headphones on, hoping to drown out the rattling and humming of the train. You reach down to dig through your bag for your thermos of coffee. Shit.

The thermos is sitting on your counter. You can practically see it in your mind, right there on the edge of the counter. It’s almost become a joke at this point the horrible quality coffee of the BAU. You and Reid have a running joke about starting up a collection fund for better quality coffee, at least for your BAU floor. Nearly every team member brings their own coffee, settling for the shitty stuff in the conference room or on the jet in place of their second or third cup that day.

You get off the train, tempted to call Reid to bring you coffee, but according to your deal, you’re supposed to be the one doing that for him. You let out a tired sigh, calling a car to drive you to the office, wincing at the cost of your morning commute. You really need to get a car.

The parking lot is almost completely empty. You swipe your ID at the door. The night guard hasn’t switched out for the morning guard yet. You recognize him from some of the late nights you’ve had within your first week of work and give a small smile and nod. Your heart thumps into your throat every time you step onto the elevator in this building. All this in an attempt to avoid being alone with Hotch.

You reach forward to press floor six, when a voice calls out, footsteps moving rapidly towards the elevator, “Hold the elevator please!” You see a black briefcase swing up between the closing doors as you lunge for the door hold button. “Thank you—” There’s a slight hesitation in Hotch’s voice as he pauses and looks over you. “Agent.” He steps into the elevator. You make room for him, putting as much space between the two of you as possible.

You attempt your best, most polite, professional smile and nod, “Good morning, Sir.” You rock back and forth on your toes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him open his mouth to say something before closing it again. There’s a long pause.

Should you say something? A normal employee would ask their boss how they are and make small talk. But this isn’t really the most normal boss/employee relationship. It seems frivolous to make small talk with someone who has seen the most intimate parts of you.

“You’re here early again,” Hotch finally speaks up. The elevator’s cool blue fluorescent lighting somehow emphasizes just how warm those brown eyes of his are. Those intimate parts of you that you keep shrouded from the naked eye, every single weakness you have shoved down, seem to be on full display in the way that he looks at you.

“I was already up. Thought I’d come in and get some work done,” The only way to keep the profiler in him at bay is to tell him some version of the truth. It’s true. You were already awake. You did decide it would just be better to come in and get started on work. However, you know that the exhaustion in your face is something you can’t hide away from his analytical eyes. There’s something in his expression that you can’t quite place as he gazes back at you. It’s a cross between disbelief and pity.

Pity. That’s definitely something you don’t want. Especially not from him. But maybe it’s not pity? Concern?

“I work out in the mornings,” Now you’re just fully lying, “I finished early and thought why not come in.”

“Y/N-” His voice lowers in volume as if someone’s listening to your conversation. He says your name like it’s a swear word. Like the name is some secret, forbidden phrase that he shouldn’t be saying, especially not at work. The elevator doors ring and they open to the BAU floor. Thankfully, there’s a worker from the night crew waiting to get on, interrupting whatever Hotch planned to say, and you’re quick to step off, moving around the man.

Hotch knows better than to follow after you to continue the conversation. There’s no one else in the offices yet, but the elevator is like neutral territory. A space separate from the job. Some sort of limbo between personal and professional. If the elevator is neutral, the BAU floor is the war front.

The situation is comical. You speed away from him, but he has to walk right past you to get to his office. What you don’t expect is the small coffee cup that he places on your desk before continuing right up to his office.

You remember him holding a tray of coffees in the elevator. Did he always intend to give you one of them? Is this attempt at a truce?

You remove the lid from the cup. The steam erupts wildly, just the smell of the coffee alone enough to already start perking you up. Once the initial small burst of heat clears, you stare down into the cup, expecting to see completely black coffee, the way that Hotch takes his. To your surprise, it's a light caramel color and you can smell a slight sweetness. You take a long sip. It’s perfect. You haven’t changed the way you take your coffee. He remembers your order. Is that supposed to mean something?

You realize you’ve been staring into your coffee for too long once you see Morgan and Garcia step off the elevator, his arm casually thrown around her shoulders. You can’t hear their conversation, but she says something, vibrantly gesturing with her hands, as Morgan lets out a laugh, flashing those perfect teeth of his. He gives Garcia’s arm a reassuring squeeze. She turns and scurries off to her little lair while Morgan turns towards the bullpen, digging around for a file in his bag.

“You’re always here early, new girl,” Morgan teases with a playful smack of the file to your head as he walks past.

“I have a name, Morgan,” You roll your eyes, attempting to fix your hair.

“What can I say? I’m a big fan of nicknames,” He grins and starts to walk towards the stairs.

“Wait! Can you take this file up to Hotch?” You hold out the papers from your desk. You give him your best, most innocent, pleading eyes. Usually, that works pretty well to get Reid to do things for you. Flirting really trips Reid up. The problem with Morgan is that he doesn’t get flustered or uncomfortable like Reid, he plays into your flirtations. You get along much better with Morgan now that he’s had about a week to warm up to you.

He still doesn’t trust you and you can tell that he questions your skills. So occasionally, you’ll indulge him. You’ll ask him for advice on something you’re working on. You’ll ask him to check your work before you hand it in to Hotch. You want him to know you respect him.

You don’t trust easily and neither does he, a quality that you have both noticed in each other. Morgan doesn’t push you to indulge him with your past. The other team members haven’t pushed you necessarily, but they seem to dance around the topic of your dismissal. Morgan avoids the topic entirely. You get the feeling that you and Morgan are way more similar than it would appear on the surface.

“Pretty boy gets free coffee, what do I get?” He stops and walks back closer to you.

“What do you want?” You smirk and lean forward placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

Morgan pauses and thinks for a second, “You come out with the team for drinks sometime, first round on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Fine. Deal.” You hold out the files and he takes them with a smile.

“I would’ve done it just to be nice, you know,” He laughs and walks up to knock on Hotch’s door. “Just wanted to see what I could get out of the new girl.” He opens the door, disappearing into the office. Emily finally arrives for the day, Reid trailing close behind her.

“All I’m saying is there are so many scientific fallacies built into the Jurassic Park franchise that it's totally reasonable to watch the films as comedies. I mean mixing Jurassic DNA with any other species just produces new species, not the same exact dinosaurs from the Jurassic period.” Reid rambles on and Emily just shoots you a look.

“This is why I don’t offer to carpool anymore,” She taunts and smiles at you.

“Not even me?” You smile, giving Reid a playful kick under the desks as he sits down.

“Are you going to annoy me about the minuscule details of every great award-winning movie?” She raises a brow, unpacking her belongings, setting a large cup of steaming coffee down.

“Well, I don’t know shit about science,” You shake your head, “I might complain about different book to screen adaptations and the number of details lost and the symbolism lost in the transfer of the work to the screen.”

“It’s moments like these that make me hate that the rest of the team has their own offices,” Prentiss sighs, already reaching for her headphones. You’re not really supposed to listen to music while working, but she breaks that rule all the time. She argues it helps her focus, but you really think it helps distract her from the horrors on the page. In the past week, you’ve learned that Emily Prentiss is great at compartmentalizing.

She’s easily able to push aside personal for professional, however, that comes at a great mental cost for her. She reminds you a little bit of Hotch in that way. She pushes the personal feelings down so deep that it’s hard for her to retrieve them when she needs to, so she’s wary of how detached she gets. But being emotionally detached from the work is the only way to avoid pain. So she listens to music.

Only two case reports later, the day is almost over. The days of sleep deprivation are finally taking a toll on your work ethic. Your brain is in a haze. You thought the two servings of caffeine would help clear your mind, but instead, they’ve just heightened your anxiety, making you more on edge than you already were. It doesn’t help that every few minutes your eyes drift up to the blinds of Hotch’s office, looking up at him while he focuses down on his work.

How can he be so… okay? He pretends as if your presence isn’t immensely distracting. Maybe it isn’t for him. Whatever he felt for you all those years ago was never love, you know that. Maybe he liked the ego boost of the way you worshipped him, hanging on to every last word out of his mouth. Maybe he just liked your body. He broke your heart, yet he sits in his office like everything is perfect.

“Today’s cases?” Reid stands next to your desk, a large stack of files in his arms already.

“How do you get those done so fast?” You shake your head at him and hand him your two, very slim, files.

“Eidetic memory, high-speed reading, genius-level IQ,” Emily pipes up without looking at the two of you. “Any of those options is a good explanation.”

“Thank you, Spence. I am forever in your debt,” You tease him as he gives a cute little tight-lipped smile, rushing up the stairs to hand in the work from the day.

As if on cue, Garcia, Morgan, and JJ step into the bullpen, their bags slung over their shoulders and Rossi comes down from the catwalk to meet the three.

“So how about that drink now?” Morgan once again has an arm wrapped around Garcia who then glances between the two of you.

“Yes! The newbie has to join us for drinks!” She smiles wildly, “Oh I just know you’re going to be so much fun. Plus, I have so much I want to interrogate you about.” It’s a light-hearted joke, a turn of phrase, but you know that Garcia probably vetted you within minutes of your time at the BAU. Penelope Garcia has the biggest heart of anyone you’ve ever met. She has so much love and joy for her family, this team, but you also know that she will do anything to keep her family safe. She’s not a violent person, but you know that if she had to die to protect this stand-in family, she would.

You glance among the faces of your new team, each more hopeful and excited than the last. They’ve all been immensely welcoming, despite their individual reservations about you. “I guess I could be down for a drink or two.” You start packing your bag. You hear Hotch’s office door open.

“Pretty boy, you down for drinks? Y/L/N is buying the first round!” Morgan calls up to Reid. You smile up at him, but it quickly drops when you see him.

Reid’s eyes flit to yours and there’s an apologetic look on his face, “Y/N, Hotch wants to talk to you.” The team exchanges a series of looks, your face getting warm as soon as you can feel all eyes on you.

You wave at them dismissively, “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up if I have time,” You force a smile, pulling your bag onto your shoulder, practically dragging yourself up the stairs. As you pass Reid, he gives your hand a small touch. It’s small, but it means the world to you. You know how weird Reid is about contact and germs. He hugs or touches the team because he trusts them. He feels a sense of family with them. It’s only been a week, yet you and Reid have shared countless passionate conversations about books.

He gives you recommendations and you rush to buy them. You indulge his rambling rants. Sometimes you ride the train together. He gets off much later than you on the train, taking it all the way to DC, but he makes the ride seem like seconds, not minutes. You love to see what people are passionate about and Spencer Reid is passionate about everything. He loves to learn, a feeling you relate to heavily.

You knock on the hardwood door, the nameplate seeming to stare back at you, taunting you. It isn’t new that a door with Aaron Hotchner’s name on it haunts you, but this one is different. It holds so much more potential. Just a little strip of metal adhered to the dark wood. Yet it holds your past life with him and about a million different possible future ones both with and without him.

You hear a deep ‘come in’ through the door and push it open to see Hotch hunched over, focused on the work on his desk, the same way he’s looked all day through his blinds. “Please, sit,” He reaches for a pen and your eyes go to the form on his desk.

You smooth out your pants as you take the seat across from him. “You wanted to see me?”

“Interesting system you’ve worked out with Morgan and Reid.” If you weren’t looking directly at him you would swear he was smiling through the comment, but instead, you're faced with those emotionless eyes of his.

“I’m sorry,” You stumble over your words a little. Did he call you up here to reprimand you for not walking your own work up to his office? “It’s just a little silly thing I was doing. It’s childish I’ll—”

“That’s not why I needed to see you,” He cuts you off, waving his hand. He leans forward, one arm resting on the armrest of his chair, the other hand holding his pen. He rubs his fingers together with the pen in his hand.

Needed to see you. He didn’t mean those words that way, but your brain takes them and runs with them, forcing you to need a second to breathe. As always, Hotch sucks the oxygen out of your lungs, leaving you breathless, scrambling for some sense of sanity.

“Strauss suggested—” He pauses and corrects himself, “Well, Strauss requested an evaluation of you after your first week on the job and I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“Right now?” You question him and he gives a slight nod in response.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and Strauss wants to make sure you’re really ready for this job.”

“I am. I was gone for a year. I don’t need more time off. I need to get back to work and back to feeling useful.” You answer decisively. It’s that simple. He has your psych evaluations and your therapists notes. So does Strauss. What more do they want from you?

You can tell he takes note of your exact word choice, eyes narrowing as you say ‘useful.’He jots something down on the pad in front of him, “You’ve gotten great work done these past few days. You’re an excellent agent and you have a real skill for profiling.”

“Thank you, Sir,” You play off the compliment, but truthfully, it terrifies you how much you feel joy coursing through you at the praise. His approval still means everything you. You can’t and won’t be dependent upon him. “The rest of the team definitely has a lot more experience though.”

“Is that why you ask Reid questions that you know the answer to? Or ask Morgan to look over your work even though you’ve already checked it over twice and know that it’s perfect?” You meet his gaze reluctantly and this time there is a small upturn to his lips at the corners.

You’re rendered speechless temporarily. Fair enough. Just as much as you’ve been profiling and analyzing him, he;’s been observant. He’s paying attention to your behavior. That is his job after all. “Excuse me?”

“You want everyone here to like you. You want to prove yourself to everyone, to me. You don’t need to do that.” The look in his eyes makes your heart pound aggressively against your ribcage so wildly that you’re convinced he can see your chest moving with each thud. He’s saying he’s noticed the signs of sleep deprivation. That’s what the coffee was about. That’s why he’s called you in for this evaluation. “I think you’ve been through something traumatic. Now, I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through, I understand that the details of your removal from your original post have been made confidential but I think this job takes a lot from you.” He scoffs a little and shakes his head, “No actually, this job will take everything from you. It’ll eat you alive, but you need to find a way not to let it.”

You’re sure that the state of both of you is enough to scare off anyone from wanting to join the BAU. Both of you are poster children for sleep deprivation. You’re working yourself overtime to prove yourself to the team while distracting your mind from the past. And Hotch? It’s clear he works himself overtime to make up for something. You haven’t quite figured out what yet, but he’s trying to make up for a past mistake. He’s trying to be the best that he can in his position. What did the job take from him that’s left him a shell of himself?

“Is there a question in there, sir?” You try to play off the instinct to snap at him.

“Do you have someone to talk to?” There’s that confusing look on his face again. The one that makes you feel like you’re being pitied, “You don’t have to talk to me, I mean, of course, you can talk to me, but you need to talk to someone. Do you have someone?”

You nod, “I can always call my therapist if I need her. And if I need someone, I’ll find someone. No need to worry, Sir.”

“Hotch,” He corrects. Your answer doesn’t satisfy him. “I’ve seen a pattern before, with agents that come back from trauma. They’re desperate for acceptance and approval, yet they have trouble trusting their coworkers. This team can’t function without trust. So do you?”

“Do I what?” You’re clenching your toes in your shoes, in order to hide the anger that the question fuels inside you. With every question, this feels more like an interrogation.

“Trust your fellow agents? Trust this team? Trust me?” He waves his hand around like it’s the simplest question he could ask you as if he hasn’t given you a million different reasons to be distrustful.

“I think trust is a fickle thing. Easy to lose, nearly impossible to gain back when lost. In addition, it takes time to build trust.” Your hands fidget a little at your sides and his eyes dart down to notice the behavior. “I don’t expect any of the other agents to trust me right away but I don’t plan on giving them any reason not to. I hope they’re just as understanding with me as I am with them.”

With the two of you, it’s never been about what is said, but always what goes unsaid, and this conversation, so much seems to be going unsaid.

“This team only works because we value cooperation and we respect one another,” He nods and looks back at the form in front of him, “I’ll be sure to tell Strauss how well you’re fitting in.” As he continues to talk, you gather up your things. “I’m impressed by how much you’ve accomplished these past few years in the bureau.”

“Thank you, Sir.” There’s so much more you want to say to him. There’s so much you want to ask. You want to yell and scream and curse him out, but you also want to throw it all in his face. How much you achieved without his help. You’re almost out the door but you can’t seem to bite your tongue any longer. When you look back at him, he’s standing, collecting his things, “How are you so… so okay?”

“I’m sorry?” His brows furrow into confusion.

“I can’t breathe around you. I can’t think straight. I can’t get my work done,” You let out, your voice tired and weak as you let the truth out, “I go home and I can’t get you off my mind. How are you just so professional and composed as if I’m just like any other employee? Did I really mean so little to you? Did I delude myself that much?”

Hotch pauses and clears his throat. He closes himself off to you by looking at his work, as if the answer he’s looking for is in one of those files, “That was… was a long time ago and I think it’s just best we focus on our responsibilities here as agents, rather than indulge the past.”

“Unbelievable,” You scoff, “It’s sad that you haven’t changed. You are still so opposed to letting yourself feel anything. I can barely get up each morning and bring myself into work to face you, but glad to know you’re doing great.” You wait a moment to see if he has anything to say, but he keeps that stern emotionless veil over his face. “Good night, Sir.” Just like a week ago, you’re almost out the door. Almost free.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” Hotch calls out. You freeze.

“Bullshit,” You breathe out clenching your fists at your side, trying to take another step away from him.

“You were important to me. I cared about you.” He hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words, choosing them carefully, “You’re still important to me. I still care about you, now that you’re a member of the team.”

“Bull. Shit.” You grit out, take a few steps closer, forgetting how much taller he is than you, but you’re determined to stand your ground. “How many were there?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many other girls? How many before me?” You shake your head. You’re not sure that you even want the answer. It’s a question that’s stuck with you ever since that day outside of his office so many years ago. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even bother saving you the heartbreak. He welcomed that girl into his office the same way he did to you without thinking twice.

“I–” He’s at a loss for words, pushing his focus down to the papers on his desk, trailing a finger over the edge of the wood, actively avoiding the question.

“It’s not a difficult question, Hotch,” You’re firm with him. Despite his position of authority over you, as he was before, you’re no longer intimidated by the repercussions of speaking out. You have too much dirt on him. Too many things you could throw in his face at this point. He can’t fire you for speaking your mind. You know he won’t. He can’t threaten your career. If he fires you, he has to explain himself to Strauss. What is he going to say? He can’t explain your history together.

“I don’t remember,” He stumbles over his words, “Three... no four. Definitely four.”

You pause. There’s still one question that has weighed on your mind every day for the past eight years, “And after me?” It’s a question you definitely don’t want the answer to, knowing that in all honesty, the answer doesn’t really matter. It won’t change much. You’ve considered every answer to the question. Every alternative hurts. If he did sleep with that student after you, it solidifies your unimportance in his life. If he didn’t, why would he hurt you the way he did?

It’s a question Hotch clearly never thought you’d actually ask. He finally meets your eye contact, “None.”

You scoff, “You’re a liar.”

“I couldn’t... go through with it with anyone else. I just saw you everywhere in that office. Everywhere I looked. I couldn’t erase the traces of you.” He shakes his head, “And I wanted to go through with it.” That stings, “Because I wanted to forget you. Get you out of my mind and I couldn’t.”

You gnaw at your bottom lip, “Clearly you were able to move on pretty easily,” You gesture to the pictures of the blonde women and the little boy on the bookshelf behind him.

That’s when he completely shuts down. Any sense of humanity you were starting to see in him slowly slips away from you. He’s back to that stonewall of a unit chief. You’ve hit a nerve. “That is not a topic up for discussion.”

“How old is your son? Five? Six?” You cross your arms against your chest, “Don’t act like I was important to you if it was that easy for you to move on. It’s funny, you seem to have everyone around here fooled into thinking you’re some morally just, decent man. I wonder if she knows the truth about you.”

Now you’ve really hit a nerve. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, Agent.” He gathers up the papers on his desk, shoving them into a file. “You’re dismissed. Evaluation is over.”

“Good night,” You pause, “Sir.” you snatch up your bag from the floor. Was that even a real evaluation? Or just an excuse to force you to finally sit down and talk to him? He was prying for personal answers. Do you have someone? Do you? Trust me? What he really meant was, Are you seeing someone? Are you still mad at me? Do you hate me? You made sure he didn’t get those answers. The answers being no and you don’t know. You feel like you don’t even know him. He barely even looks like the man you found yourself hopelessly falling for.

You text Reid that you’re just too tired to meet the team for drinks. Calling a car to take you to the train station.

Hotch has somehow managed to become a completely different person, yet still maintains some similarities to the person he was before. You still think of the same words to describe him, but for entirely different reasons.

He’s firm and stern. Now, in this position, he’s big on following protocol. Following the rules is what has to be done. Following rules and respecting the chain of authority is essential to keeping everyone safe. Before, he didn’t care about rules, but he had high standards of performance.

He’s cold. Before, he was cold to distance you from him. Now he’s cold as if letting someone in might break him. Like you might warm him from the inside out and he might not be able to withstand the heat. Letting someone in might lead to a complete meltdown.

Despite the icy exterior he puts on, you see small glimpses of warmth and care. Care for his team, especially. He’s patient with Garcia. He indulges her quirks. He’s firm with Reid because if not he gets sidetracked pretty quickly. But he’s also gentle with him. He doesn’t cut him off or guide him back on track in a rude manner. He knows when the job is overwhelming for JJ. She fields so many cases, being forced to decide which people most need the help. Every single day this week, you’ve seen them both hunched over his desk pouring over yet another armful of files. He reassures her that they’ve made the right decisions.

So you don’t know if you hate him. You don’t know him. That’s the problem.

By the time you get to your apartment, both the mental and physical exhaustion have finally caught up to you. You open your mailbox, pulling out the mail that’s been accumulating over the past few days. You sort through it quickly, most junk mail and bills. You get to the top of the stairs and unlock your door pushing through and you see a small envelope at the bottom of the handful. There’s no return address, just your name scrawled across the front in almost illegible handwriting.

You furrow your brows, dropping your bags by the door, kicking off your shoes, and walking into your kitchen as you tear at the envelope. As you do, a small square photograph falls out. You reach in for the other small slip of paper. Your heart sinks and you feel a sick sense growing in the pit of your stomach.

On the small paper, in the same scrawl as the front of the envelope: I’m still out there.

You bend down for the photograph that fell. It’s a picture of Hotch, his suit jacket blowing open slightly in the wind. He has his phone in his clutches, pressing it up to his ear. He’s got his briefcase under one arm and a tray of coffee in that hand. You look a little closer and notice the pattern on the tie he’s wearing in the photo… the photo was taken today. You flip over the photo, to see a second and final note.

This is between you and me. Break any of my rules, tell anyone about this, and he dies.

Chapter 14: II.III →

Tag list: @wanniiieeee @art-and-thoughts

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #wanna be yours fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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korissideblog · 3 years

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So! I decided I wanted to info dump about my bby, and I’m gonna do it here. Consider this a living document, cause ill be editing new questions and answers as they come in <3 if you have any more questions just comment them (or ask on anon if you want, I’ll answer both here and there)

Question from: @bobittybob20276

while Aito tries to train like the rest of her classmates (though sparring) his quirk really isn’t a fighting quirk, so yeah, most of her training happens out in the wild. He mostly trains on his classmates and teachers, but will occasionally go out of the school and try to charm random people she bumps into ;) . she continues his training after graduation, and keeps getting better and better the longer she’s in the field.

Question by: @zedthebuggy

kinda a tough question here, lemme try to explain how Aito’s quirk works; so pretty much it’s not really Aito’s gaze that makes it work, like his pupil doesn’t have to be trained on someone. His quirk works through her iris (the yellow bit). it looks normal most of the time, but when being used, it becomes wildly complicated, confusing the eye of her target and scrambling their brain a bit. pretty much, the brain normally simplifies everything so our eyes can kinda take shortcuts and let us quickly take in as much info as possible, but Aito’s irises are so overly complicated that the target’s brain is forced to focus excessively on them to keep up, making them very suggestible. that’s why Aito has to speak his commands, so that the target’s brain confuses Aito‘s voice for it’s own command (and also why the target won’t do anything too complicated or out of character. if the brain thinks too hard about what it’s doing, it could fall out of Aito’s control) his quirk would be better described as a sensory overload, but without the panic or any negative feelings. It actually feels rather nice to be charmed, like being a hot room with a cool fan blowing in your face, or drinking a warm drink in the snow. Very positive, yet opposity feelings at once if that makes sense

(side note, when Aito gets older, she can control when his quirk is “turned on” but while she’s in UA, it just constantly on all of the time, hence his choice in hairstyle)

so! To answer your question, if someone doesn’t know about Aito’s quirk, they have 0 clue that they’re being charmed, and will have 0 memory of whatever they do when charmed. If someone does know about her quirk though, their brain will recognize the feeling and will be able to combat it (she can still be pretty effective, but he still has to work harder for it) if someone knows about the quirk, their vision will get a bit darkend around the corners and may see quick flashes of darkness as their brain kicks off to focus on Aito’s irises. it takes a lot of willpower to fight Aito’s charms- or, just a very very simplified vision, like Aito’s mama has (if someone asks, I’ll talk later about Guadelupe’s vision, it’s actually pretty interesting) (side note again, if someone tires to fight her charm, it could leave them with a gentle headache <3)

and FINALLY Aito’s quirk doesn’t require her to physically see, as long as her target can see her, it works :)

Question by: @gatortopia

Aito decided to become a hero because… he’s perfect! And he wants everyone to know how perfect she is!! And everyone thinks heros are perfect!!! And soon EVERYONE will see how PERFECT he is!!!!!!!

(side notie <3)

when Aito’s father left them, he was cemented in Aito’s brain as someone who couldn’t see how perfect he was. Aito just wants to be seen by her father, but because he doesn’t know who he is, he assumed that the only way to get the man’s attention was to prove how perfect she can really be, and the only way she could figure out how to do that is by becoming a hero.

after he gets her license, he immediately starts heroing like others do, with big fights and capturing villains and saving people… but… that really didn’t work for her. No matter how strong or fast or clever she was, he couldn’t match up to his peers in the heroing world.her quirk just wasn’t made for that kinda work. He took some time off to figure himself out, and after a bit of time (and a lot of conversations with Michi, both professional and personal) he finally figured out that his best place to work was behind the scenes, collecting information and going undercover in villain hangouts and social events. he wears her support hero badge with pride. (and uhhh still sometimes helps with big fights and capturing villains and saving people. Hey! She spent good money on his hero suit! He’s gonna use it!!)

Question by: @ratty-memes

ooohhhh ok! This is the question I really wanna answer!!!

so! to clarify, Aito absolutely thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips, like even in the deep parts of her brain, she thinks he’s The Blueprint. I would almost describe her as narcissistic bordering on psychopathic. THE ONLY REASON I WOULDN’T DESCRIBE HER AS THIS THOUGH- is because of her reasoning

so- Aito was raised by his mama exclusively, and he thinks his mama hung the moon and painted the stars. Like she is a capital M capital B Mama’s Boy. He absolutely adores his mama and thinks she’s absolutely without flaw or defect. (She didn’t instill this in him, Guadelupe’s just a very nice lady and Aito was really messed up after his father left, so she clung to any semblance of a good parent she could find. (Even though he’s technically out of this stage already, and it’s much less pronounced, something similar happened when he met Sato. Guadelupe never dated after Aito’s father “because my mijo is the only person I’ll ever need” and because of that, Sato is the first positive male role model in his life. Most of his acting out actually is a product of wanting to keep Sato’s attention on him, and to subconsciously keep him from leaving like his father did))

Aito’s brain pretty much went “ok, my mama is Absolutely And Positively Perfect… and she really really loves me… she wouldn’t love a kid with flaws… so I must also be perfect!!” And that’s why she thinks she’s all that! She thinks his perfection is as obvious as the sky being blue, and his want for validation just his way of checking out the window and seeing the color or they sky. they sky is blue, and everyone knows that, and Aito is perfect, and everyone should know that!!

Question by: @cosmic-goof

you only get repercussions if you’re caught ;)

but also she’s promised multiple people that she won’t steal from strangers. In the classroom setting, people know that when your wallet or your ID card or your phone go missing, you should talk to Aito before you do anything else, strangers don’t know that, so whatever she takes is for keeps. He really doesn’t like keeping things from people as much as he just likes the act of pick pocketing, so if someone asks for their item back, Aito will immediately return it and will probably explain how and when he took it if they let him. only problem is, you obviously can’t do this with strangers, so instead she does other things, like asks them for a harmless favor that someone would never do for a stranger (“hey there, can you help me move tomorrow?” “Hi! Do you mind if I take your picture?” “Hello sir! can I look through your phone for a sec?”)

Question by: @cosmic-goof

at the moment, it’s usually an adult who knows about her quirk and tries very hard not to be charmed (think sato). she can still charm adults obviously, but it’s a bit harder to do bc she’s just a little baby. maybe when she trains more she’ll get stronger, but at the moment, that’s her limit (sorry if this is a weird answer, willpower doesn’t exactly come in like a points system irl, so I can’t be like “7 willpower!” yk?)

Question by: @glitchviper

I talked about this before with Rin’s blind eye (something I’ll probably add here) but being blind in one eye wouldn’t stop Aito’s quirk (as long as you look at her with your non-blind eye, you can still be charmed, hence why when looking at Aito with only her blind eye, Rin wasn’t charmed)

the only was to not be charmed by Aito is to just not see her eyes, so total blindness or some kind of visual abnormality (like her mama has. somebody PLEASE ask me about Lup’s eyes. I have diagrams) but! if a person is seeing, but can’t hear Aito (be it because of deafness, or some issues in the environment like loud noises or earmuffs) a person can be charmed, but cannot be commanded <3

((p.s. I’ll be talking a lot about blindness or other disabilities while discussing Aito’s quirk, but if I say or display any ableist language or sympathies, please know it’s out of ignorance and not malice, and correct me when you can.))

#Ohhhh please keep asking questions <333 I adore character building for this nasty little leech <3 #Sweet little baby who deserved to be beaten up sooo badly #<3333 #questions about Aito <3 #aito takao #bnha oc comeback #Long post

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mellointheory · 3 years

Text

Honey and Glass

Punz had been tending bees for decades. He knew the moods of a hive, the way they could sense danger coming, the way the entire swarm would exude agitation when a disaster was near. There was no denying it: this entire town wasn’t going to last another day. The bees knew; they always did.

Normally once he entered the dome they would settle on his shoulders and arms, humming calmly as he slid the racks of honeycombs out of hives, drained the honey, and filtered it. Today, however, they refused to even come near him. Half of the entire hives’ population seemed to be flying over his head, bumping against the dome, crawling against the seams between the glass and the wood beams that supported it. They knew it wasn’t safe here anymore.

Punz had no reason not to trust their judgement. He opened the doors of the dome, standing aside and waiting for the insects to realize that their way out was open. They poured out past him, wings sending the air abuzz, taking to the skies en masse. No sympathy or goodbyes from them, they just wanted to survive. He hoped they thrived without him.

He’d had dozens of hives over his lifetime; he could always find another. He was an expert in leaving things behind. All he needed were a few possessions.

The white hood Bad had given him a few years ago. The gold chain he’d received as a status symbol in a cult once, back before he’d even stopped aging. A leather rucksack full of the honey he’d collected from his bees previously and hadn’t brought to the market yet.

The market…

Punz didn’t know the people in town very well. He’d come to this far-flung forest a few years back, after a little bit of a mixup with a disgraced king. It was only ever a place to sleep off his wounds, lay low for a couple decades, take a break and let himself be forgotten before he returned to mercenary work. He never saw any of the residents except when he went to town every few months to sell his honey and buy the foods he couldn’t grow out in the woods.

Considering they possibly were going to die soon, he may as well give the honey away for free.

The marketplace was busy. It always was at this time of afternoon; familiar vendors behind their stalls while the attendees wandered and bargained and shouted. Pumpkins and corn and potatoes, jewelry brought from distant lands, homemade alcohol that felt like a kick to the teeth. Punz found himself a quiet corner and sat cross-legged on the ground, opening up his rucksack and laying bottles of amber honey on the cobblestones in front of him.

He let his mind wander as he sat there. Occasionally someone would come by, inquire the price, and upon hearing it was free take as many as they could hold. Maybe he should have warned them.

Maybe, maybe, but Punz hadn’t lived this long by looking out for others. He would give them the fruits of his work for the past few years and then he would move on, out of here. Getting attached to people who would inevitably die was never a good idea. Bad would disagree with him, of course--the demon was one of the nicest people Punz knew, ironically--but Bad wasn’t here and Punz was.

A flash of color caught his eyes amid the crowd and he looked up. A young man was talking animatedly amid a group of four or five people. Punz didn’t pay attention to the others, but the person in the middle was hard not to see. He wore a hood like Punz’s, but cut differently and sewn together out of patches of wildly different colors. He had brown hair and fidgeted around a lot as he talked, wide movements and animated hand gestures.

The man turned slightly, glancing across the market, halfway through a sentence, and his eyes fell on Punz. He stopped talking.

Fuck.

Punz winced, immediately focusing his attention on the bottles of honey in front of him. He had no idea what about him was distracting the stranger, but making awkward eye contact in public never got any less embarrassing, no matter how long you lived.

Through his lashes he could see the man make a quick excuse to the people he was talking to and begin to jog across the street. He came to a stop in front of Punz, tilting his head curiously.

“Do I--do I know you?” The man asked slowly.

Punz looked up at him. He had green eyes and freckles, and his face was flushed from the heat. He didn’t look like anyone Punz knew or had known over the years--the social circles he ran in were more for warriors and bodyguards and assassins. This person looked like he hadn’t even witnessed a simple bar fight before.

“I don’t think so.” Punz said carefully, scanning the man’s face. “You don’t look like my type of person.”

The man giggled. “What does that mean? Are you calling me ugly or something?”

Punz blinked. “I--what?”

“I’m just messing with you.” The man leaned down, absentmindedly tapping a painted fingernail against one of the bottles of honey. He was still smiling brightly. “I’m Karl, by the way.”

Karl. Nope, Punz definitely didn’t know any Karls. “Do you want some honey?” Punz nodded at the bottle that Karl kept tapping.

“I mean, I don’t have any money.” Karl shrugged.

“It’s free.”

Karl flushed a little bit, picking up the round glass bottle and sliding it into the pocket of his hooded jacket. “Really? Thank you.”

Punz debated for a second, trying to figure out exactly if this was a bad idea or not.

“If I were you, I’d get out of here.” The blonde said finally. “This place isn’t going to last long. You probably don’t want to die.”

Karl’s face fell, but not in the way Punz expected. He didn’t look skeptical or worried, just resigned. Punz had warned people of their deaths many, many times and he knew this look. This man was expecting to die.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t be one of those.” He said softly, wrapping a fist around the honey bottle in his pocket. “It’s fine, though. Are you leaving?”

“Of course I fucking am. I don’t feel like dying today.” Punz shrugged, scooping up the remaining honey into his rucksack. He slung it over his shoulder and stood up. Something made him hesitate, though, waiting for the last thing Karl would say.

“Tell me your name first?” Karl asked, staring up at him.

“It’s Punz.” Punz exhaled a heavy sigh, sliding his arms through the rucksack’s straps. “So are you coming?”

“I…” Karl glanced behind him, at the group of people he’d left behind to come over to Punz’s corner. There was the brief flash of uncertainty in his eyes, almost desperation. Punz had judged him wrong at first; this wasn’t someone wholly unacquainted with death.

“I can’t. Stories to tell, and all that.” Karl smiled weakly. “I guess I’ll see you in a few hundred years.”

Years?

But Punz didn’t ask and Karl didn’t offer an explanation. The brunette turned and walked away, and after a brief moment Punz followed suit. He’d lost hundreds of people over the years. Karl had a story to tell, apparently, and Punz wasn’t someone to interrupt another person’s narrative.

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

The sun was going down when the earth broke open under them all.

Karl had seen it coming, ever since his new friends explained the strange rumblings underground, taken him around to see places where homes had disappeared into sinkholes. He’d seen it coming ever since he first landed here, because it had been a long, long time since he’d left a time without dying first.

There was screaming. Debris was falling too, breaking beams and rocks cascading down the side of the massive chasm. Someone below him shrieked for help as they plummeted. He knew he needed to write the screams, but sometimes he still couldn’t handle hearing the words. It was too much, too real, too sickening that the people he’d met just that day were dying with him. He would wake up from this. They wouldn’t.

Karl curled up as he fell, trying to drown out the wails. Focus on something happy. Focus on something else.

There should have been something in his head to distract him, he knew it. There should have been a face there--a voice, a smile, a touch he knew well. Memories to help him pretend he wasn’t about to die along with hundreds of others. It was lost in the fog of his head, along with a million other things he knew he should remember. There was someone out there, because he felt their loss, but he couldn’t even remember their name.

He shoved a hand into his hoodie pocket. Something struck him on its way down, sending him spinning, his entire shoulder going numb. His hand reflexively closed around the bottle of honey forgotten in his pocket. Smooth glass, curved, with the weight of liquid golden sweetness behind it. That was a thought he could handle. Honey in a bottle, golden hair in sunlight, a person who shouldn’t have been this far back. A name he did remember; a familiar face despite being hundreds of years removed from Karl’s own timeline.

You probably don’t want to die. Punz had said before he walked away.

I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, Karl thought desperately as the bottom of the chasm got closer. But I don’t have a choice.

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

Even as far away as he was, Punz knew when it happened. From his perch settled cross legged in the crook of a tree limb he could see the exact moment when the lights went out.

He didn’t enjoy death. Not even over all the years he’d seen it, all the times he’d brought it on others. It wasn’t like he could see an entire town full of people, children and husbands and wives and parents, be snuffed out and feel pleased that they were gone. He’d grown tired over the years, not emotionless.

Caring was never a good idea, but he couldn’t help wishing that Karl hadn’t wanted to stay.

It was the man’s own choice. Punz wasn’t the type of person to rescue someone against their wishes. He wasn’t the type of person to decide what was best for others. He was the type of person to watch people go down their path and let them do it, even if he had lingering hopes that it wouldn’t end for them the way he foresaw.

Punz pulled a bottle of honey out of his rucksack and yanked the cork out. In the distance the ground continued to shake, tremors as the earth swallowed up the surface.

If his hearing was sharper he could probably have heard the screams when they all fell. Thank god it wasn’t.

He tilted his head back and put the bottle to his lips, letting the honey slide down his throat. Thick, sweet enough to feel like it was clogging his throat, slightly warm despite the cool of the night air. The only thing he really had left from his years in the woods of that town--he was probably the only one who would remember them. Places disappeared and were forgotten all the time. People even more so.

Punz tilted his head back against the trunk of the tree and let the bottle slide out of his fingers, plummeting to the ground far below. It shattered a few seconds later, the tinkle of broken glass on an exposed tree root. So quiet in the night, yet somehow much louder than an entire town of people vanishing off the face of the earth.

You’ve seen things like this before, he told himself tiredly. Don’t get hung up over it.

But, as he closed his eyes to fall asleep, he wondered if Karl had a chance to eat the honey he’d taken or if he died without ever tasting it.

#punz #karl jacobs #karlOP #punz x karl jacobs #cw insects #cursing #mello writes

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janekfan · 3 years

Text

Fair

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298580

Secret Santa gift for @alextblue!

This was such a lovely prompt! I hope you like it!!

Keep it together or they’ll never invite you out again.

He knew when he woke up, tangled in the duvet and soaked in a cold sweat that it was going to be a bad day. No matter how deep a breath he heaved, none of the air reached its way to the bottom of his lungs, caught it seemed on the tight band crushed around his ribs.

Relax.

Just relax.

Everything is fine.

More than fine.

Great even.

Jon was meeting Martin and Tim at an outdoor festival and with the weather for once bright and sunny, it was going to be a wonderful day. In succession, he tightened each muscle, holding himself stiff before relaxing and shoving the thrumming anxiety to the back of his awareness where it hung like a trembling red wire.

Shower. Clothes. Hair loosely tied. Tea.

Stomach unsettled, his toast remained untouched on the counter.

Keys, wallet, phone. Each in their appropriate pocket.

Deep breath. Two. Three.

“I’m alright.” Because he was. There was no reason for this. None at all and he was going to end up being too much of a nuisance for his friends. Maybe he should cancel. No. No. Who knew when he’d get another chance to prove he was more than their arse of a boss and worth having around.

The train went well. He made it to the predetermined meeting place in the park early as was his wont and checked his phone for messages. Predictably, Tim was running a few minutes late but Martin would be here soon and sure enough Jon saw him weaving his way politely through the crowd, raising his arm up to catch his attention.

“Jon!”

“Martin.” When he dug up a smile from somewhere Martin’s face lit up in response and a jolt not unlike lightning ran up Jon’s spine. A strong arm landed over his shoulders and the smell of Tim’s aftershave assaulted him right before his enthusiastic greeting.

“Hullo, gents!”

For a little while, Jon was able to lose himself in the music, the sights, the people watching, settling his nerves with a pint and prattling on about obscure music genres much to Martin’s apparent enjoyment. Tim ribbed him good naturedly and only commented on the blush (not from Martin grinning at him, thank you very much) from the alcohol traveling up his neck and settling high in his face.

“Thank you, Tim.” Voice measured and academic, Jon accepted the next pint with a hand forcibly held still, relaxing on the bench with Tim sprawled comfortably next to him. Martin was locating food and would meet them back here.

“Whoa! Slow down, champ.” Jon had downed half of it without thinking and was now looking dazedly at the plastic in his hand. “You alright, boss?”

“Mm. Yes, of course. Was thinking, is all.” A knobby elbow nudged his side and Jon suppressed a ticklish yelp.

“Thinking.” The way he drew out the word and raised a brow made Jon grateful for his already rosy cheeks.

“Stop! No!” Tim raised his hands in supplication.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say!” He all but tackled Tim when he pulled out his phone and began texting and that’s how Martin found them, tangled up with each other, Jon’s fingers in a deathgrip around the device to prevent him from spreading gossip. Tim just laughed, loud and bright and Martin, the traitor, snapped a picture before doling out the kebab.

It was shortly after lunch that Jon felt the strain of the hours spent pressed between strangers and overwhelmed by sounds and colors and the deep breaths weren’t helping anymore. Instead, Jon’s whole chest ached from how tight it was strung, tied up in knots drawn tighter with each attempt. Incessantly, he checked his watch, trying to hide it from the pair chatting just ahead of him, but the minutes weren’t moving and all he wanted to do was escape the throng, nails digging painful crescent moons into his palms as he clenched his hands into aching fists. His heart was pounding, the sun beating down without mercy and he regretted his previous decision to quaff beer like there was a drought when the nausea returned.

Jon was on autopilot, eyes fixed forward, one step after another after another after another with his heart fluttering in a throat so narrow he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. So he tugged on Martin’s sleeve, gesturing clumsy and stiff to the edge of the green.

“Just. Just be a, a minute, yeah?” The concern in his eyes was suffocating. He was ruining this.

“Everything alright, Jon?” He’d reached a hard limit. There were no more words left, no more air, so he nodded, flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and walked away rigid and panting through an endless sea of jostling bodies.

Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why couldn’t he handle this like all the rest of them? Why did he have to be so difficult he needed to be invited to things out of pity?

What is wrong with you?

Jon hadn’t realized he’d yanked his hair out of its loose bun and was tugging on it until his head began to hurt. He stumbled more than once, vision going grey at the edges and what had only been anxiety before was swiftly sliding sideways into a panic attack. Dizzy. Where before he felt tense, as though breathing too deeply might crack him straight in half, now he was suffocating, arguing with himself:

Can’t breathe.

You can.

Back and forth, almost to the border and across the street to a bench, out of the way. Invisible. He’d fall apart here, scrape himself back together, and head back to find Martin and Tim. Ten minutes. He checked his watch. He’d give himself ten minutes. Panting, he pressed a hand to his breastbone, trying to force himself to calm down, relax, take in some air to prevent the black from spiraling further. Briefly, wildly he’s--

Dying.

Not. Shut up shut up shut up.

His ten minutes were almost up and it had been more like ten seconds. His chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe and his pulse was galloping out of control and filling his ears with a pounding, pounding, pounding. His fingertips were numb, he was light headed and trembling with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. He wanted Martin. He wanted Tim. He wanted nobody to see him like this. He couldn’t decide which was worse god he was pathetic just get ahold of yourself, Jonathan Sims!

Curled up impossibly small, wracked violently with chills and panic, Jon poured all his energy into staying silent and when a warm hand landed on his shoulder his shout of surprise was trapped behind clenched teeth. He looked up into Martin’s wide eyes and felt his own spill over with tears and a muffled sob. He’d been caught and the panic only rose higher until Martin laid a heavy hand across his shoulder blades.

“Jon. You need to take a breath.”

“C’c ah an’t.” He’d been trying. And failing. Always failing.

“You can, I promise.” And when he demonstrated, exaggerated, deep, Jon felt a pang of jealousy at how easy it came to him. “You can.” A sip of air made it through, then another. “Good, there you go, slow, good.”

“What’s happened?” With Tim came a fresh wave of tears and he sat beside Jon so that he was bracketed by the pair of them. “Oh, Jon. Okay, doing great, bud.”

“I’m,” he paused, swallowed another gulping breath. “M’sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry.” Jon wasn’t altogether certain Martin could be believed. “Just breathe, in, out. Good.”

“Okay…m’okay.”

“It’s alright if you’re not. Take your time.” Jon slumped forward under the weight of it all, exhausted and sore and full to bursting with guilt.

“I’m j’just. I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough. His apologies never were and he didn’t know what else to say, what would make this better. “I didn’t mean. I.” Martin shushed his babbling, pressing a cool bottle of water into his shaking hands and wouldn’t hear anymore out of him until he’d downed at least a third.

“Jon?” The silence was becoming too much under the scrutiny of the pair of them and he just wanted to forget his little episode and get back to the festival so they would smile again instead of look at him with pity.

“We can, we can go back now.”

“Jon?” Of course, why would they want him to tag along anymore after this foolishness?

“Or I, I can leave, uh, go home. Yes. Yes, I’ll go home and see you at work. T’tomorrow.” Ignoring their noises of distress, Jon sprang to his feet and almost went down again when a wave of vertigo tilted the street. He was guided by careful hands back to the bench, head gently pressed down between his knees.

“Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?” Tears traced his nose, falling to the pavement below but he forced them back, speaking in a very small voice in an attempt to contain his histrionics.

“Didn’t want to ruin our day.”

“What?”

“I know. I, I did anyhow, I’m--”

“You’ve not ruined anything, Jon.” Martin was so kind, too kind. And here he was squandering it.

“Yeah, boss. It happens, no harm done.” They didn’t understand and Jon clapped both hands over his mouth before it could all come bursting out, how much this meant to him and how upset he was to have lost his chance. It rushed forth anyway, too big, too vast, and not wholly intelligible.

“I know I was only invited because of Martin and I. I.” This was embarrassing and he wasn’t able to stop himself. He never could. “I was hoping I'd be w’welcome next t’time? If only I, I were on my best behavior.” Good lord, he was crying again, a mess, here in the street where he was probably drawing all manner of looks. They shouldn’t have to put up with this. “I, I know I can be, be awful. I don’t, I’m rude and quick to irritation and I’m, I’m--” Gasping. He’d worked himself into another bout or maybe he hadn’t even come down from it in the first place.

“Breathe, Jon.” Stern and his teeth clicked with the force of their collision. “Breathe.” Only when he wasn’t on the verge of passing out did Martin continue. “Jon, I’m sorry. I had no idea you felt this way.”

“If I’d known--” Tim was quiet. “I shouldn’t have assumed it wasn’t your scene. I didn’t. No. I mean, I didn’t, but that’s no excuse.”

“No, no it’s. It isn’t your--I. I.” It was him. “I.” Tim swept him up into an embrace, exerting the perfect pressure across his shoulders and he melted into the warmth like he’d done back in research a time or two.

Or three.

Maybe four.

“We’ll finish talking about this later, alright? When you’ve had some sleep.”

“I, I don’t--it’s…” When Martin’s firm grip enveloped his shoulder Jon gave up, let the rest of it all go. “I’m--”

“Don’t say it. Don’t need to be.”

“You’re our friend, Jon.”

“But--”

“Nope!” Tim helped him stand, took his arm in his and set off towards the underground. “Martin, my dear, my darling, if you’re amenable, I think I’d like to finish our spectacular day with a few drinks at mine.” Jon went red. “I don’t think you’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting my good friend Three-Shot Sims.”

“Tim!” Martin had the audacity to pretend to think about it.

“You know, Tim.” And both ignored Jon’s sputtering in favor of nearly carrying him down the street. “I don’t think I have!” With no other choice and knowing he’d be under no pressure to perform that particular introduction, Jon let Tim guide him along.

“Oh, Marto, my boy. He’s a real treat.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jon sims #tim stoker #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #angst #panic attack #anxiety #mental health issues #depression #secret santa!

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elizabethemerald · 3 years

Text

Water Heals; Chap 4

AO3

Today was another of Katara’s visits. Azula felt like she was getting better at telling the days apart, and keeping track of the weeks as they passed. Katara had said that she would bring a guest this week. It would be the first time she had seen someone other than Katara, her brother, or the staff since she was admitted to the hospital. Azula had promised to be on her very best behaviour.

She smiled her own private smile when the door to her room opened to show Katara, though she kept her face otherwise schooled. As a princess of the Fire Nation she wouldn’t let herself show all of her real emotions to outsiders like Katara’s guest.

Behind Katara entered her brother, Sokka. Katara has talked quite a lot about her brother and what he had gotten up to recently. It would be interesting to meet him face to face, and for once, not on the other side of a conflict.

It certainly seemed like peace was suiting him well. Sokka still had the build of a swordsman, though now he was really hitting his growth spurt, he was going to be tall, possibly even taller than Zuko. He had a slightly nervous air about him, though he was masking it well. He smiled a wide, easy smile upon seeing Azula. Her spine stiffened for a moment, fearing he was smiling because of her bonds. Before she could snap at his insolence he clapped Katara on the shoulder and took a seat. Perhaps he was just in a jovial mood?

Katara took the seat next to her brother, returning his smile. Azula felt a hint of color rise in her cheeks. Katara’s smile never failed to bring some warmth to her face, and set Salmonflies fluttering in her stomach. For some reason Sokka’s smile widened, his earlier nervousness dissipating.

“So Azula!” He said. Azula was suspicious of his friendliness, but she supposed Katara had brought him along first for a reason. “Katara’s told me a lot about her visits with you. How have you been liking them?”

Katara had side eyed him at this question, but Azula felt their mutual companion was a safe enough conversation topic.

“Her visits continue to be the highlight of my time here. Even at my most dower Katara’s smile brightens my day.” Azula said stiffly, as if she were giving a report to the war council. Her eyes flicked to Katara, and she couldn't help but notice a faint blush dusting Katara’s cheeks, her eyes down cast as she fiddled with her hair. She decided to quickly change the subject, not trusting Sokka not to stray too near sensitive topics. “And how about yourself? Katara has kept me informed on some of the inventions you have made.”

“Oh she has!” Sokka immediately pulled a sketch book out of his satchel. Azula leaned forward as close as she could to look at his drawings. Some of the sketches seemed almost infantile in quality, but as she was able to parse the information she could see he was trying to figure out a way to trap a fire bender’s lightning, so it could be used to power other inventions. “You see, if I can make this work we can create other things that could wildly improve life for the people of the world. I’m just trying to find some way to replicate the lake of Chi a fire bender uses to control and redirect lightning. Though its really hard to get a hold of some lightning to test my theories.”

“It should not be that hard to get.” Azula said with a smirk. “Would you like a free sample?”

Before he could respond Azula took a deep breath, pulling on her own lake of Chi and spat out a flash of lightning. Sokka jumped back with a yelp as the lightning flashed wildly around the room. Without the use of her hands to control and direct the lightning, she didn’t have any where near the control she usually did. She released the rest of her breath as a short pant of blue flame. Lightning bending was far harder than fire bending without hands.

Katara jumped up, water flying to her hand from the pitcher in the room. Azula couldn’t help her flinch, still battling the fear that Katara was going to turn against her one day and try to kill her. Instead of forming a whip the water around her hands glowed with a strange light. Azula watched, her eyes wide in awe, as Katara used the water to heal any slight mark Sokka may have received.

“That was rude Azula!” Katara said. Azula couldn’t help but feel a rush of guilt. She had promised Katara she would be on her best behaviour. She couldn’t stand the idea that Katara would take this as a sign to stop visiting her.

“I’m sorry Katara.” Azula said, her eyes down cast.

Katara was about to reply in her usual huff, but Sokka, now settled from his surprise, spoke.

“You know Azula, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize to literally anyone. I didn’t think you knew how to.” HIs words, heavy with sarcasm were at least a game Azula knew how to play.

“I prefer to reserve my apologies for those who mean the most to me. Not water tribe peasants like yourself.” Azula said, putting her nose up in mock disdain, though she met Katara’s gaze, attempting a small joke based on their first conversation. Katara’s smile showed that the joke had landed, and again there was a dusting of a blush across her cheeks. “Though I guess since the war’s over, I should make right with those I can. Is there anything I should apologize to you for?”

“Suki.”

With that single name, Azula felt her hard won control slipping. The leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. She had taken great pleasure in ensuring she was imprisoned and in making sure her incarceration was as unpleasant as possible.

“Do you know what happened to her?” Azula asked, her voice sounding lifeless and mechanical even in her own ears. All she could remember was defeating Suki and shipping her off.

“Yeah, me and Zuko broke her out of the Boiling Rock.” Sokka said. His voice sounded like it was coming from a cave.

The Boiling Rock. The start of her fall. She had tried to kill her brother again there. Mai and Ty Lee had turned against her there. Not only had they shown their true colors but she had shown hers as well, first by trying to kill them, then by having them arrested. From there she had known that there was no one she could trust. Eventually everyone would betray her. And she deserved it. She was a monster after all.

Azula was fading fast, her grasp on the moment slipping as her mind spiraled into the memories of her many failures. She was only distantly aware of a rapid yet hushed conversation between Sokka and Katara. They were probably discussing how to punish her for imprisoning Suki.

“Did Katara ever tell you about the time I drank cactus juice?” Sokka said. The surprise of the strange sentence shook Azula from her dark spiral.

“Isn’t cactus juice…” She was trying to focus her brain on the bizarre statement.

“Hallucinogenic?” Sokka laughed. His laugh was loud. Different than Katara’s soft laugh. “Oh yeah it is. I spent a few hours absolutely out of my mind. I remember seeing a giant mushroom that I was sure was going to be my friend.”

Azula felt a crooked, broken smile creep up her face at the idea.

“Or there was the time Toph trapped me in a hole in the ground. It felt like I was stuck there for hours. I promised to give up sarcasm and eating meat if I was able to get out. That didn’t last very long.” He said sarcastically.

Her broken smile crept higher on her face, feeling less broken and more natural.

“How about the story when me and Katara got sick, I spent the entire time thinking I was an earthbender! Then guess what the cure was?” He didn’t wait for Azula to guess instead continuing on excitedly. “Sucking on frozen frogs! Aang had to go fetch them while we were resting in our sleeping bags!”

Azula could see Katara’s own smile creeping higher on her face as her brother brought back some pleasant memories from their time traveling the world during the war. Azula could feel her own smile grow, a soft huff coming from her nose at the thought of Katara with a frozen frog on her face.

“Oh or the time we tried to convince those guards that I was an earthbender!” Katara said.

“That was a good one! Especially because that one guard thought that Momo was the earthbender! Not the brightest guard.”

“Can’t forget the whole adventure in the secret tunnel! I thought you would have a handprint on your forehead from facepalming for a week!”

Azula let out a short bark of a laugh. She felt more herself, like her mind was back in her body where it belonged and less like she was going to start sobbing.

“It seems traveling with the Avatar wasn’t all hard work and battles.” Azula said. Her voice still sounded a little flat, but it was coming back to her regular tone.

“It was a lot of work. And there were some things that are going to be in my nightmares for years.” Sokka said, his tone more serious than it had been since he arrived. “But that doesn’t mean it was all bad. Aang’s a fun loving guy. He wouldn’t let us stay to serious for to long.”

“When we first met him, he immediately wanted to go penguin sledding!” Katara said, her smile now her usual full faced and spirit-blessed smile.

The conversation continued, Sokka carrying most of it, for the next hour or so. By the end Azula was exhausted from the social interaction, but she was happy. Sokka had caused her first genuine laugh in what felt like months, though she couldn’t tell exactly how long it had been. Katara had also seemed to enjoy having her brother there. She fell into good hearted bickering so easily with him, her smile brightening up the entire room, causing even more Salmonflies to buzz wildly in her stomach and a warm feeling to fill her chest.

When it was finally time for Sokka and Katara to leave for the day, Azula stopped him. He stood at the door, Katara behind him in the hall looking over his shoulder. It took Azula a few moments to gather her words and force them out.

“Sokka… I’m sorry.” The words felt painful as she pushed them out past the lump in her throat. She wanted to apologize for everything. For the harm she had caused during the war, for the harm her people had caused, even for throwing lightning at him just today, but she couldn’t get all those words. He seemed to understand the enormity of what she apologizing for and gave her a solemn nod. “Please tell Suki...I’m…”

“I will.” He nodded again, that same seriousness from earlier in his voice.

With that the two Water Tribe siblings left. Azula was exhausted. Her body drained like she had fought for the entire afternoon. However her mind felt like it was fully active. They had given her much to think about.

She had been inclined to dismiss Sokka, as a non bender, and as an oaf, he was never the same threat that Katara was. However he had clearly earned his place among the Avatar’s closest. He was cleverer than she had ever given him credit for, and he had the ability, almost uncannily, to switch between lighthearted and serious at a moment’s notice. She would have to think more about him. About his ease in forgiving her. About his inventions and ideas.

Thinking of Sokka was significantly harder considering something else occupied her mind. Katara’s smile. Katara had seen her slipping, had noticed her reaction to the mention of Suki and the Boiling Rock. She had encouraged her brother to joke to offset the tension and help ground her back in her body. Katara had seen her, and seen through her, and some how still visited again and again, and still smiled and laughed with her, not at her, but with her. It was a lot to think about all at once.

#atla katara #atla azula #Avatar The Last Airbender #writing emerald

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lady-griffin · 4 years

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My Next Life as A Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom OP

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I personally love the OP for this anime and have watched it multiple times already. Since I saw the first episode before I read the manga, I thought it was just a fun, cute, and creative opening.

Now after reading the Manga, I am very impressed with all they’ve managed to pack in, so I thought I would break it down bit by bit.

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

Part 1

The OP opens with chains of roses appearing and disappearing and Mandela-like designs on the side. This appears to be the overall aesthetic of the otome game Fortune Lover. The world Katarina lives in now is the world of Fortune Lover.

Next, we see the Start Menu screen for Fortune Lover. With “New Game” highlighted in a different color than the other two options.

A player is picking a new game for Fortune Lover – which is adept as we could argue that this is Katarina’s completely new start of “playing the game.”

Then the Start Menu is disrupted by bright colors in static waves – indicating that there had been a “glitch” or something has changed within the game world.

It’s safe to say that Katarina gaining her past life memories is said ‘glitch’, but if there was any doubt, we get a quick image of the villainess Katarina Claes – or how she appears in the game.

The story we are about to embark on is not the same as the one in Fortune Lover, the original villainess character has now become front and center, influencing the characters of the world and changing the original timeline, so to speak.

Part 2

We are then introduced to the main cast characters in quick flashes and in the order that Katarina officially meets them. In these quick introductions, we get a slight hint of their different personalities.

I included the quick shot of Game Katarina with her villainous face, showing the contrast in how Game Katarina appears vs. how the non-game versions of all her friends appear.

Geordo Stuart – Confident

Keith Claes – Nervous and panicked

Mary Hunt – Friendly and endearing

Alan Stuart – A tsundere

Sophia Ascart – Shy

Nicol Ascart – Reserve

Maria Campbell – Sweet and kind

Now we know that we are being shown the real characters and not the game versions, because of Keith. As Game Keith was a confident, playboy and the Keith we see is not that at all (and thank goodness).

Part 3

We see Yong Katarina walking confidently with two different and separate backgrounds rotating behind her.

In the first walk, Young Katarina is outside and wearing her work clothes and carrying a hoe, likely her favorite one as we get a separate close-up shot of it.

In the background there are lettuce heads, carrots, bushes and trees rotating behind Katarina.

This little walk shows that Katarina not only works in a field/garden, but enjoys the work as well as being outside in general. Another aspect of Katarina is her love and skill of climbing trees and the trees in the background are a hint at this.

In the second walk, Young Katarina is inside her family home wearing her day-to-day blue dress. She is carrying around the fake snakes that she has made in order to scare Geordo. The snakes are Katarina’s diversion plan in case Geordo attacks her, which he does do in the game’s bad ending of his route.

Rotating behind her are candelabras and battle axes.

I’m not sure if the candelabras represent anything specific – I don’t recall there being significance to them. Overall, I think they just represent the wealth and aristocracy of the main characters.

The battle axes on the other hand represent when Katarina took an axe to Keith’s door and broke it down when she was child, saving him from the loneliness that was swallowing him whole.

That is one of the major changes she does to the game’s original timeline as she completely reroutes Keith’s path to a happier one.

Part 4

Young Katarina grips one of the fake snakes she was holding and it makes a funny face that transitions into Katarina’s own scared and funny face as she is confronted with her angry mother.

On her mother’s sides we see Katarina’s father trying to calm her mother down and Anne being exasperated with Katarina’s antics.

These are the three most important adult and authority figures in Katarina’s life.

Her father is a doting and loving man. While he is aware of his daughter’s eccentricities, he is pretty okay with them, especially when compared to his wife. He has little hearts next to him, representing his overall loving nature to both his wife and daughter.

Katarina’s mother is less adoring. In the scene, she goes from a calm angry expression to berserk as she berates her daughter for her unladylike behavior and interests.

Given this quick shot of Katarina’s mother, we see how Katarina’s own ‘villainess’ face while just a mechanic in the game, in the actual world it is clearly inherited from her mother.

Next, we have Katarina climbing up a tree. This is one of Katarina’s favorite hobbies and a skill she is very proud of and one that she inherited from her former past life.

It’s also a nice detail that the battle axe, fake snakes and Katarina’s tree climbing come before and after Katarina’s mother goes berserk. As all three of these items are directly related to a time Katarina got in trouble with her mother.

Part 5

We get a still image of some delicious looking Macaroons and then we see a Young Katarina having a great time stuffing her face with said Macaroons, as she stands behind a table with other delicious looking treats in front of her.

She eats so much that she upsets her stomach/has to immediately go to the bathroom – a common problem for Katarina in her youth.

Katarina has a big love for food, sweets in particular. It’s often a way the other characters have endear themselves to her and her gluttony is also seen as one of her unladylike qualities.

Part 6

Katarina and Maria are sitting opposite of one another in a large spinning tea cup, surrounded by other tea cups and rose petals.

This seems to show their relationship as ‘opposites.’

In addition, how important Maria is to Katarina’s life and her overall fate – since Maria is the heroine of Fortune Lover and her choice of romance in the game, leads Katarina to different degrees of doom in the game.

The two spinning in a tea cup could also represent the spinning of their roles.

Katarina is the heroine of My Next Life as a Villainess and while not the villain by any means, Maria for Katarina does represent a potential danger, especially in Katarina’s mind.

I also think that the tea cups represent Sirius Dieke, as tea is an important aspect to his overall character and he is a threat to both Maria and Katarina.

The fact that Maria and Katarina are sitting together in a tea cup could represent how in both their stories (particularly in the game) they are the heroine and villain.

Again, for the actual story that’s not the case. Maria is far from a villain, but Katarina does view Maria and her actions as potential threats to her well-being.

However, their hero/villain dynamic as romantic rivals, is completely dwarfed by the very real danger of the much worse threat that is Sirius.

Part 7

We get a glimpse into Katarina’s head and the council of her different sides.

From Left to Right we have

Studious Katarina Timid Katarina Chairmen Katarina Brave Katarina Happy Katarina

We see them every now and again, particularly when it comes to Katarina deciding what she should do to avoid doom flags (her being killed) or how to make the best of doom flags (her being exiled).

They are all as ridiculous and oblivious as the real Katarina.

While their contingency plans for how to deal with the endings/doom flags aren’t bad, Katarina becomes so focus on them that she misses the obvious fact that she doesn’t actually need contingency plans.

Part 8

Next, we have what is my personal favorite part, the sequence of Katarina and her friends from children to teenagers, which shows Katarina’s relationships with each of them.

Geordo and Katarina - Engaged

Both Geordo and Katarina appear in their childhood and present day-to-day outfits. They also appear to be on a stage, with the curtains revealing them to the audience and the wood panels and strung up stars behind them.

They bow and curtesy to one other before they start to dance, but instead of dancing Young Katarina wildly spins Geordo around. Representing, how Katarina kept throwing Geordo off and surprising him in their younger days.

As Geordo spins around to the front of the camera, the two become teenagers and are dancing properly. Geordo leans in for a kiss and Katarina looks surprised by this, before she is pulled away.

The transition of them from children to teenagers, exemplifies Geordo’s feelings for Katarina and how they’ve developed over the years and of course her own obliviousness to them.

Katarina is not even aware of the possibility that Geordo could be in love with her (let alone that he is), mostly because Game Geordo did not care for Game Katarina and Game Katarina only really cared about her status as his fiancée.

This dancing scene likely comes from Katarina’s 15th birthday party, where the two danced together and Geordo kisses Katarina on the neck, as he wanted to get it through to Katarina that he’s not breaking off their engagement for the very simple reason that he loves her.

Keith and Katarina - Siblings

Keith is wearing his childhood and present day-to-day outfits, while Katarina is wearing her work uniform.

Before Geordo can even kiss Katarina she is pulled away by Keith.

This is not necessarily a specific scene from the Manga, but it definitely shows the dynamic between the three.

Geordo flirting with Katarina and Keith desperately trying to separate the two, while Katarina remains oblivious to what is actually going on. While Keith states he does this because he wants to protect his big sister, everyone except Katarina knows that’s not the case and it’s just simple jealousy.

Young Keith spins Katarina around and she jumps on him and they soon run off together with him being carried on her back.

Young Keith is surprised by this, showing his hesitation in the beginning with being close to someone out of fear that he might hurt them, but nonetheless Katarina both in the story and OP bulldozes through that hesitation with gusto and enthusiasm.

This also just shows Katarina’s genuine excitement in having a younger brother.

As they run off screen the two transition into teenagers and Katarina is now on Keith’s back.

Keith is happier than he was as a kid, showing how much Katarina has changed his life for better. As they run, Keith appears to trip and the two of them fall down.

Possibly indicating how Katarina’s wilder and less than ladylike antics (being carried on her brother’s back and running around the house) can often bring Keith down with her.

Though Keith is the more responsible one of the two and often emulates their mother in disapproving of Katarina’s choices and actions – he does, for the most part, go along with her antics.

Keith is definitely frazzled as they fall down, and in the story, he is very much frazzled by Katarina both in her eccentricities and his romantic feelings for her.

Alan and Katarina - Friends/Future Bother & Sister-In-Law

Alan is wearing his childhood and present day-to-day outfits, while Katarina is wearing her tree-climbing outfit and an unknown dress (I couldn’t place it from the Manga).

A Young Katarina falls from above and lands on a tree branch next to Alan. As Alan begins to yell at her, Katarina just continues jumping down and Alan looks on in surprise (and perhaps a bit in fear).

Alan and Katarina’s friendship, begins with Alan having a hostile attitude towards her as he thought she was seducing his fiancée (technically he wasn’t wrong) and also due to his competitive nature and need to prove himself, in general.

They had multiple tree-climbing contests as children, which Katarina always won without much effort.

Katarina jumping off the branch away from Alan, seemingly not caring as he yells at her, is possibly a representation of Katarina’s confidence in her skill as a tree-climber.

As Young Katarina drops to the ground, a teenage Katarina lands in Alan’s arms and while she looks sheepishly at him, she seems overall happy that he caught her.

Alan slightly blushes and turns his head away from Katarina, as he is the tsundere of the romantic options.

In addition, Alan can often be flabbergasted and flustered by Katarina’s less than ladylike manners and overall frankness – best example comes from her 15th Birthday party.

Alan’s blush and him looking away from Katarina, could also reflect how Alan is not aware of his own romantic feelings for Katarina until later in the story.

Mary and Katarina - Best Friends

Mary is wearing her childhood and present day-to-day outfits, while Katarina is wearing the dress she wore when she first met Mary and her 15th Birthday party dress.

The scene of Katarina in Alan’s arms and them both slightly blushing transitions to a Young Mary upset by this scene and she runs off to be comforted by Katarina and or to tell her that she would absolutely catch her if she fell from a tree too.

Mary can be quite jealous of others, especially when they are the focus of Katarina’s attention and or vying for her attention and Alan is no exception, despite being Mary’s own fiancée.

For example, in the manga it’s revealed Mary has been keeping Alan in the dark about his own feelings for Katarina, so she wouldn’t have any more rivals.

It’s also significant that they appear in Katarina’s field, as their love for gardening/farming is what brought them together as friends in the first place.

As Mary runs to Katarina, the two become teenagers and dance together and Katarina gives the audience a friendly wink and Mary is blushing slightly as she dances with Katarina, showing that this is more than just a platonic dance for Mary.

Mary and Katarina’s dance, like Geordo and Katarina’s dance, is also from Katarina’s 15th birthday party. The two danced together on the balcony away from the rest of the party as Mary wanted to dance with Katarina, but couldn’t as it was against high society rules.

This scene is just a quick show of Katarina and Mary’s friendship and Mary’s feelings for Katarina.

Nicol and Katarina - Friends

Nicol is wearing his childhood and present day-to-day outfits, while Katarina seems to be wearing two different dresses that I can’t place from the Manga.

As teenage Katarina and Mary pull away from the camera, it is now Young Katarina and Nicol who are holding hands.

The camera spins around the two and they become teenagers. Nicol smiles at Katarina, unlocking his full charm on her and Katarina is left dazed and dizzy.

Their relationship is not as well developed as some of the others in the story.

Katarina likes Nicol and enjoys his company as a friend and of course Nicol has fallen for Katarina due to her overall kindness, compassion, and friendship with his sister Sophia.

Because of Nicol’s more reserved nature though and the fact that Katarina is engaged to Geordo, he doesn’t act on his feelings in the same way Geordo and Keith do.

When he does though, he is very direct and Katarina is usually left dazed and a bit flustered. However, because she’s so dazed by him, Katarina doesn’t realize what Nicol has just said to her - meaning she’s still oblivious about his feelings.

Sophia and Katarina - Best Friends

Sophia is wearing his childhood and present day-to-day outfits, while Katarina is wearing her pajamas.

A dazed Katarina becomes a young and dizzy Katarina who falls on a couch next to Sophia in what is likely the Ascart Library.

Sophia moves closer to Katarina so they can read a book together. As the book pushes forward, we see an extremely quick glace of the cover – showing the Devilishly Charming Earl character from one of their favorite romance books.

As the book is pulled to the bottom, Katarina and Sophia have transitioned into teenagers and are still eagerly reading the book together. Showing the basis of their friendship - their mutual love of love stories and reading in general - is still going strong.

This is the most friendship-based sequence.

Even though Sophia also wants to be able to be with Katarina forever (like the others), her feelings seem to be less romantically inclined than the others.

Sophia treasures their friendship a great deal, but she often leaves Nicol and Katarina alone together, as she tries to give her brother a proper shot at confessing his feelings to Katarina.

Part 9

Next, we see Maria presenting a strawberry cake to Katarina and Katarina eagerly turning to Maria in excitement. Maria looks a bit confused and embarassed(?) most likely because Katarina is lavishing her with praise and attention.

Maria does not have a past to present transition scene with Katarina as they meet when they are teenagers.

This scene’s setting is most likely Maria’s home kitchen, as Katarina is wearing her merchant’s daughter disguise – which she wears in the Manga when she ends up visiting Maria at her home during their summer vacation.

The strawberries on the cake are cut into hearts, this is possibly just a cute design or possibly an indication that Maria also falls for Katarina.

On top of the cake is a flag, flags are important to Katarina’s story as she is actively trying to destroy the Destruction Flags that lead to her doom.

The flag being just a small decorative piece could be nothing, but it might signify that while Maria is technically tied to Katarina’s doomed endings, that’s not really a factor anymore.

Do to the fact that Katarina’s actions for the past seven years, before Maria even enters the story, have been successfully destroying her doomed flags – by having good and loving relationships with the other characters (mainly Geordo and Keith - whose routes were once guarantede destruction for Katarina).

Now Katarina is not aware of that and still sees doom befalling her especially (in her mind) when it comes to whom Maria will choose to confess her feelings to. But nonetheless that doesn’t stop Katarina from befriending Maria and the two becoming genuine friends.

This scene once more shows that Katarina is always happy to receive sweets. Furthermore, Maria and Katarina’s friendship grows out of Maria baking her homemade sweets for Katarina (among other things).

Part 10

We are next introduced to A-Chan, Katarina’s best friend from her previous life.

A-Chan is reading from a strategy book for Fortune Lover. A-Chan would often spoil the game for Katarina which she didn’t appreciate at the time, but now she is very thankful for the extra information she has about the world she now inhabits.

Next, we see a large image of a pixelated game flag.

We can easily presume this is a Destruction Flag, which are essentially bad checkpoints (for Katarina) that lead to a specific path in the game for the player.

Basically, they are choices (or scenes/characters) throughout the game that decide whether or not the player receives the good or bad ending. And since the majority of the endings of the actual game are bad to awful for Katarina, all the check points or flags are destructive to her and her life.

The one big flag transitions into multiple smaller, pixelated flags. Which could represent all the different flags Katarina is trying to avoid or destroy.

It’s a nice detail that the flags are pixelated as they are a simple mechanic from the game itself. That detail could also indicate that while the flags have great importance in the game, in Katarina’s actual life, the majority of them aren’t a factor in deciding her future due to her own choices and the choices of the other characters.

But Katarina has yet to learn that.

Part 11

We are introduced to the final character, Sirius Dieke, the President of the Student Council. He appears to be in the Student Council chambers, in front of his own desk, with piles of paper on it.

Sirius is the 5th and secret love-interest in the game Fortune Lover and he has the darkest story of the romantic game-targets and just in general.

It’s very telling that he also appears in multiple small squares like the Destruction Flags did in the scene right before he appears.

As he really is the only true Destruction Flag and path for Katarina.

Part 12

Next, we see two school-girls standing together on a beach watching either a sunset or a sunrise.

This is Katarina from her previous life and her best friend A-chan. While the sunset/sunrise could just be there to be a pretty image, one could take away a deeper meaning, particularly with the idea that it’s both a sunset and a sunrise.

As their lives have ended in their previous lives (sunset) they get to live new lives in their reincarnated forms of Katarina Claes and Sophia Ascart (sunrise).

This idea is potentially reflected in the waves crashing onto the shore, then returning back to the ocean, only to crash again on the shore (similar to the idea of reincarnation).

We get a close up of their hands as A-Chan grips Katarina’s hand and she returns to the gesture. Their friendship is an extremely important element of the story. As A-Chan comes to Katarina’s aid in her time of need, showing that their friendship transcends time and worlds.

And this is a very compelling idea, because while romance is certainly a major element in the story, friendship is even bigger.

Katarina has changed every one of her friends’ lives not because they fell in love with her (like the game’s setup) but because Katarina was kind and befriended them with sincerity and true kindness (causing everyone to fall for her).

Part 13

Finally, we are at the end.

The OP ends with the main cast bowing to the audience on a stage, possibly the same stage Katarina and Geordo danced on, but with the curtains now closed.

Sophia and Mary do more traditional lady courtesies and Mary does a bow like a commoner.

While the guys and Katarina do a slightly exaggerated bow.

This possibly shows Katarina’w significant ties to the guys as she has inadvertently become the main love interest. This could also indicate that Katarina has also technically become one of them – in the fact that Maria, the original main character, who was supposed to fall in love with one of the guys, actually falls for and adores Katarina.

In a similar sense, the two other rival female characters of Mary and Sophia don’t fall for Alan and Nicol, but instead fall for Katarina.

Or it could also just be a sign that Katarina is more of a tomboy than the other girls.

Either way the main cast bows to the audience, signally the end of their show/performance that they just put on for us.

Quick Summary

My Next Life as a Villainess Opening is packed with so much detail, symbolism and deeper meanings and that it is just astounding in itself.

Not only does it do all of that, but the OP still remains a fun, creative and enjoyable introduction to each episode with a catchy song.

A slight nitpick from me, is that I wish some of the scene transitions were smoother. For many of them it looks quite smooth and flows very nicely, for other it just cuts to a new scene very quickly. Again, this just a nitpick.

Overall, this opening is just amazing in my humble opinion and seems to have almost everything one could ask for in an Anime Opening.

I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes that might remain here.

#my next life as a villainess #HameFura #destruction flag otome #Otome game no hametsu flag #Bakarina #Katarina Claes #Geordo Stuart #Keith Claes #Alan Stuart #Mary Hunt #Sophia Ascart #Nicol Ascart #maria campbell #my next life as a villainess all routes lead to doom #Hamehura

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Lockdown Lovin’ (or Got a Screwdriver?)

AN: I started this fic prior to the pandemic. I had a hard time finishing it and then suffered an incredible loss. I wanted to finish it more for myself. Forgive me for typos + such.

AN2: This also fills the birthday-songfic challenge from @thefanficfaerie w/”Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira.

AN3: Thanks to @madpanda75 & @youreverycolor for the titles.

CW: Smut, so much smut. Language.

WC: 5k

Tags: @youreverycolor @madpanda75 @melsquared79 @tropes-and-tales @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @dreila03 @mommakat32 @garturbo @lovebennycolon @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @sweetsummertime99 @evee87 @scarlettsoldier @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @redlipstickandblacktea @infiniteoddball @xemopeachx @misssirenlove @letty-o @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoollike @trekinthruthestarwars @mormonsinthepiazza @gibbs274 @choppedgalaxynerd-blog-blog @germansarechill @neely1177 @misssirenlove @i-t-s-a-n-d-y @dianilaws - anyone else just ask, xo

---

August in New York City was always oppressive and muggy. You could almost see the steam coming off the concrete from your top-floor walk up apartment. The sun was beating down at 7:00 A.M. and your air conditioner was on the blink. You sat by your windowsill, desperate for a breeze and drank a glass of ice-cold water in an attempt to cool off. You were in your underwear and a t-shirt, which already felt like too much clothing. However, you had court that afternoon and you had to leave in thirty minutes to get into the city to be prepped by your ADA, Rafael Barba.

With a heavy sigh, you peeled yourself from your chair and put on your best pantsuit: a black ankle length suit with a double weave blazer and a cream colored button down adorned with tiny black polka dots. You slipped on black-flat slingbacks and wrapped your hair in a low chignon. You clipped back your bangs and sprayed your hair. You layered some gloss and smacked your lips. ‘Oh come off it,’ you thought to yourself. ‘It’s never going to happen.’

Unbeknownst to Rafael, you harbored a tiny thing for him. How could you not? He was intelligent and wildly attractive.

You clipped your badge and grabbed your wallet and phone, before heading out of your apartment.

You had only been outside of your apartment for not even five minutes and you were already dripping with sweat. You hopped on the subway and took relief in the cool, but filthy air that blew past you as the subway lurched to a stop. The subway chugged upwards the Williamsburg Bridge and you could admired the steel infrastructure of the suspension bridge. Despite it being early, the train was packed to the brim from when you got on at Marcy Avenue. As people got off, there was no relief in personal space as more people hopped on. You noted how quickly people forgot about social distancing from even just months prior.

Eventually the congestion eased and by the time you got to the last stop on Chambers Street, the subway had only a few passengers – also in their suits and ready to take on the day.

You placed a coffee order on your phone and by the time you walked out of the subway, your iced latte was waiting for you. Being that you were soon to be in the company of one very cute, but typically cranky ADA, you made sure to also grab him a coffee as well. You had been in Barba’s presence enough to know that he usually took his coffee black but occasionally ordered a piccolo latte with a ristretto shot. And because you knew that for every good lawyer was an even better paralegal, you ordered an extra iced coffee.

Fancy coffee drinks in hand, you made your way into One Hogan Place. The building was quiet and you knew in an hour or two that would all change. You flashed your badge at the security guard and was quickly screened for any weapons of mass destruction before being allowed to pass through. Down the hall you went and you turned into the corner where ADA Rafael Barba’s office was located.

To your surprise, it was empty.

You glanced at your watch and were about to reach for your phone when Rafael burst through, tossing a large duffel bag to the side. You jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut, nearly dropping the drink holder.

“Morning,” you replied wryly, before taking a sip of your coffee. “You seem chipper.”

Rafael glared at you before his eyes settled on the coffee. “Carmen called out; she’s sick with a stomach bug and my shower is busted so I had to shower at the gym.”

You arched your brow. “You work out?”

Rafael ignored you and rubbed his jaw. “Uh, is that coffee?”

You nodded. “I knew you and I had prep this morning, so I wanted to get us started on the right foot.” You handed Rafael his coffee and a small smile twitched across his face. You noticed the stubble that graced his face and for a brief moment, you wondered what it was like to feel that against your own skin. You involuntarily shuddered.

“How could you shiver? It is ten thousand degrees outside,” Rafael replied.

You rolled your eyes. “And how you could drink hot coffee on a day like today is beyond me.”

“Studies have shown that drinking a hot beverage on a hot day actually can cool you down,” Rafael replied. He set down his coffee and walked over to his desk. He opened up his laptop.

You nodded and sat down, making yourself comfortable on his couch. The office was warm and you shrugged off your jacket. “Is the AC on?”

Rafael nodded. “Old building, sometimes it takes a bit to get going.” He banged on the AC unit behind him.

“That seems… very high techy techy,” you quipped. “They let you graduate Harvard?”

“I am a man of many talents,” Rafael returned, a small smile again twitched across his face. “Shall we get started?”

---

Rafael was merciless in his prep. You appreciated how much he care he put in his work. From your experience of watching him in court, he always seemed to anticipate what would be asked before it was even asked.

“You studied your grand jury transcript?” Rafael asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paced his office. He went through his papers – you suspected it was his infamous (and bulletproof) answer tree.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flush. “I did.”

“Are you sure? Do you want to go through them once more?”

You cocked your brow. A bead of sweat rolled down your forehead. ‘Holy hell, it is hot in here,’ you thought. “I’m ready.”

Rafael nodded. He grabbed a kerchief from his desk drawer and wiped his brow. “If you deviate from your statement in any way, it will create reasonable doubt about all of your testimony.”

“I am not going to deviate,” you retorted with a sigh, grabbing your belongings. “I got this.”

“After you detective,” Rafael motioned as he slipped on his suit jacket. He was wishing he hadn’t – it was so hot in his office but he didn’t want it to wrinkle. You walked towards the door and turned the knob but it didn’t turn. You tried again, feeling your heart begin to race. Nothing. You pulled on the door. It was jammed.

“Uhhh, we have a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” Rafael asked, moving past you. He tried the knob but he had no luck, so he tried again more forcefully and then to his chagrin, the doorknob completely came off the spindle, ensuring that the two of you were completely locked out.

“Did you just get us locked out?” you questioned, nervously laughing.

“I – I – I did not. The door knob broke off,” Rafael replied defensively.

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed. “What do you mean the door knob came off? You broke the door?”

“I did not break the door!” Rafael replied trying stick the door knob back on, but failing.

“Good job MacGuyver,” you retorted. “You slammed the door and fucked it all up.

He tossed the knob towards you and you caught it. You looked at it and then at the jammed door.

“I went to the Academy,” you called from behind. “Not locksmithing school. Come on, use your brain Harvard.”

“Oh, I may have a lens repair kit in my desk,” Rafael exclaimed before hurrying back to his desk. He searched his desk but came up empty. You remembered the bobby pins in your hair and removed your chignon, which sent your hair cascading down in waves.

Despite the fact you had not gone to locksmithing school, you tried to give it a go. You fussed with the knob but nothing worked.

“Any lucky sleuth?”

On close inspection, you could tell the threads were shredding. You swallowed hard. “No. We’ll just have to call security.”

You could hear Rafael on the phone with security.

“Security said they’ll get us out,” Rafael replied. “Twenty minutes tops.”

Twenty minutes turned into thirty. And thirty turned into an hour. No one had come by. “Maybe I should call Carisi,” you wondered out loud.

“He’s in Brooklyn, assisting the DA there on the Boland matter,” Rafael replied. The room had grown exceptionally warmer. Rafael removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“Where the hell is the security guard? Where is everyone else?” you wondered.

“Everyone is off for summer this week. It’s been pretty bare bones.”

You turned around and watched Rafael as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his muscular, deliciously veiny forearms. Unconsciously you licked your lips. “Do you have the answers for everything?” you quipped.

A bang on the door interrupted you. “Mr. Barba? It’s Jimmy with security. We’re going to get you and Detective L/N out as soon as possible. We will need to call the locksmith because of the doors. The whole building was built in 1930. We can’t just remove the door hinges with any old tools.”

“That’s great!” you called out, relieved. “How long will it take?”

“The locksmith we are leased with is in the Bronx, so we’re looking at another hour or so.”

Rafael sighed. “Thanks Jimmy.” He looked at the clock and mentally calculated as to whether or not going to court was still realistic and decided there was still enough time. “Might as well go over your testimony once more.”

“Really?” you questioned, before a wave of heat flashed through the room. “Jesus Christ, how hot can this room get? Think you can crank a window open or that AC some more?”

In your fit, you removed your suit jacket and untucked your blouse. You undid two buttons from the bottom and tied the loose ends. You grabbed your hair tie and made a messy bun.

Rafael watched you as you tied your shirt up. He saw the barest hint of exposed skin and his mind wandered, wondering how incredibly soft your skin was and what it would be like to touch it. His eyes trailed over your derriere and he appreciated how your pants fit you so well, snuggly covering your curves. You were oblivious to the sexy sight you presented.

“Well?”

Rafael blinked, bringing himself back to the present. “Oh, yeah, I’ll see what I can do about the air conditioner.”

Rafael banged on the air conditioner one more and let out a string of Spanish expletives. He was growing warm himself – he wasn’t sure if it was the heat wave, half-broken air conditioner, or being in close quarters with you.

Rafael was not sure as to when he first became enchanted with you. You caught him off guard completely. Not only were you pretty, but you were also extremely intelligent. You had transferred over from major crimes. Quickly, Rafael found himself longing to work with you and any time he had a chance to work with you, made his day that much brighter.

After his doomed from the start-relationship with Yelina, Rafael chose to put work over his heart. This hadn’t meant that he was celibate – he had his fair share of women in his bed. Rafael had one rule: to never let matters of the heart affect his work. So instead he pushed down his growing attraction as if he were burying opposing counsel with document production. Nights where he was most restless and unable to sleep, he would give in to the temptation and on release, it was your name that escaped his lips.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling weary from the heat. You plopped yourself on the couch once more, fanning yourself with one of the many legal pads that decorated the office. You used your other free hand to text Olivia about your circumstance.

“I am sorry about this,” Rafael apologized. He walked behind his desk and bent down. He rose back up and came up with a water bottle. “Here.”

Your eyes widened at the water bottle and you eagerly snatched it from his hand. The tips of your fingers brushed against his and you felt a spark shoot. Rafael’s green eyes met yours and you wondered if he felt it too.

You choked out your gratitude and tilted your head back slightly, chugging the water, desperate to relieve some heat. Rafael watched you intently as you swallowed. His eyes trailed from your mouth to the triangle of your neck, settling on the jugular notch. You brought your head forward and some water slipped from the bottle, droplets landing on your lips. Rafael swallowed hard once more as he watched your tongue dart out and catch the stray droplets. His cock twitched in his pants and he exhaled slowly as he sat down next to you.

The AC made a sputtering sound before letting out a whizz. You both looked at one another and you cringed. Rafael let out another string of curses as he got up to check the AC. It officially bit the dust. He pushed up his sleeves and opened the window. You bit your lip, admiring his ass from the distant as he pushed up the window. The sounds of the city filled the office and if you listened hard enough, you pretty sure you heard “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira blasting from some car stuck in traffic.

All the attraction, the tension

Don't you see, baby, this is perfection?

You let out a little giggle. How apropos.

Rafael turned to you. Sweat was dripping from every pore. He was going to be a mess by the time you and him got out. He was grateful that he had a spare suit on hand, as most lawyers do. “Y/N, uhh – do you mind if I took off my dress shirt? I am going to sweat to death.”

You did your best to hide a smile and couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Sure thing counselor. By all means.”

Before you knew it, Rafael was standing in front of you in his undershirt and suit pants. You tried to play cool and not gape at him. From the neckline of his v-neck, a tuft of chest hair stuck out and you could make out a gold chain.

‘Goodness,’ you thought to yourself. ‘That’s going to be fuel for weeks.’

“I am sorry I have been so tough on you.”

You shook your head back to reality. “What? Oh, no – you are just doing your job.”

“I know, but I have been riding you hard.” As soon as it left his lips, Rafael felt his face redden. “I didn’t mean – I…”

“I wish you would.”

The words flew out without you thinking and you slapped a hand over your mouth in horror.

Rafael’s own eyes widened slightly. “What did you say?” He sat down next to you once more and gently removed your hand from your mouth.

Your stomach dropped and you willed yourself to not puke. “I am so sorry. That was so inappropriate. Fuck.”

Rafael took a breath. “I’m not.”

You were sure the heat was getting to Rafael. This all seemed like a hallucination. ‘It has to be? This isn’t real – is it?’ you thought to yourself.

Before you could even question him further, Rafael pulled you into a kiss, mashing his lips against yours. You hungrily pushed back, as months of pent up want and desire became reality. His tongue slid against your plump lips, seeking entrance. You opened your mouth wider to allow him greater access. You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place. Your free hand roamed his chest, moving to his arm, feeling the muscles twitch underneath.

Rafael broke the kiss to move to your neck and your breath hitched as he quickly found a sweet spot. You pressed against him and pushed down using your body weight against him. You laid on top of Rafael, your body melding into his. You resumed kissing, getting lost in the sensation of his lips on yours. Rafael explored your body eagerly – his hands were on the back of your ribcage before trailing down the knobs of your spine to your buttocks, where he grabbed and squeezed at your covered flesh. You could feel his erection press against your belly and it heightened your arousal. Finally Rafael broke the kiss and pushed up against you so that you were sitting up once more. “Is this okay? We can stop.” His breath was laborious.

You bit your lip and nodded. Wordlessly you untied the bottom of your shirt and then nimbly unbuttoned it. You pushed it off and tossed it to the side. Rafael opened his mouth to comment but found himself at a loss for words as he stared at your cotton covered breasts. It was the simplest of racerback bras – no fuss, no muss. You unclipped the front and exposed yourself. Your body was flush pink – a rosy hue covered your skin and your nipples were hard and taut.

“How is this for answer?” you asked standing in front of him. You kicked off your shoes, your bare feet against the carpet. Your heart continued to hammer in your chest. You unbuttoned your pants and unzipped them before pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out of them.

“You’re gorgeous,” Rafael replied, taking your form in. “But you really don’t – I don’t want to pressure--”

You rolled your eyes and let out an exasperated, almost irritated sigh, placing your hands on your hips. “Rafael I want this. I want you. How much clearer can I get?”

Rafael smirked and you let out a breath of relief. Rafael stood and quickly undressed as well. You let out a giggle as he stood in his boxers with a very sizeable tent evident and brightly colored striped socks. Rafael took a step towards you and pulled you to him. He captured your lips once more before reaching down to grab you and lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Your foreheads touched and for a moment you both stood still savoring the moment, your lips were barely touching and breathing eachother’s air. You pulled away briefly and winked.

“Now, can you please fuck me before…” you paused and looked at the clock before you looked back at him. “Before security gets here with the locksmith?”

Letting out a low chuckle, Rafael took a few steps back and he sat down, bringing you with him. Rafael cupped your breasts and lowered his mouth over a nipple, causing you to gasp. Rafael’s tongue swirled over your nipple and used his teeth to graze the sensitive flesh. You arched into him as his tongue licked a broad stripe along your sternum before moving to your other breast. You threaded your hands in his dark hair and tugged as you lost yourself to the magic of his mouth. Rafael continued his oral onslaught, as he dipped his tongue along your collarbone, tasting the salt of your sweat. His hands ran up and down the sides of your body, from the curve of your hips to the swell of your breasts.

“Oh yes, Rafael. Jesus, fuck that feels good,” you cooed. You rose up slightly and took one hand and guided it down. Rafael took your hint and cupped your pussy. He could feel how damp you were through the thin material and he moved the material to the side to stroke your lips. Rafael groaned at how wet you were and he teasingly stroked you, your arousal coating his fingers. You mewled and your hips undulated, trying to get more.

“Pacencia detective,” Rafael husked. “Look how wet you are. You have made quite the mess of yourself. Is this for me?”

Something about his heavy gaze made you feel some type of way and weakly you nodded. The air in the room was charged. Rafael teasingly stroked you more, the tips of his fingers ghosting your clit. Finally, he sunk a long digit in you, knuckle deep. You moaned as he thrusted his finger in and out of you. Without hesitation, another digit slipped in. Your head lolled forward, with your hair covering your face as you gripped his shoulder’s tightly.

“What a tight little pussy,” Rafael growled, as he continued his ministrations, messaging your inner walls. His thumb circled your clit. “I can’t wait to fill it up with my cock.”

Tension began to build in the pit of your belly. You were dangerously close to coming. You gasped loudly, all the air leaving your lungs. Rafael immediately withdrew his fingers and you sobbed loudly from the lost contact.

“Detective YN,” Rafael warned, his voice low, dark and warning. “You have to be quiet. Next time you can scream as much as you want, but we’re still in my office.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be good,” you whispered. “Please,” you implored. Inwardly you beamed at the idea of there being a next time.

Rafael pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then his face turned serious as realization hit him. “I don’t have condoms,” he rushed out. “I am clean. I was just tested. If this changes anything…”

“I’m clean,” you replied breathily, shaking your head. “On the pill.”

You kissed again, your tongues rolling against one another’s. You sucked on Rafael’s bottom lip so hard you were certain it would bruise. You reached down in between your bodies and pulled out Rafael’s cock. It was deliciously thick and hard. Cum had dripped from the head of his cock and you used that as lubricant and stroked him. Rafael threw his head back and groaned; his desire for you was deep in his bones and never in his wildest dreams did he think this was how his day would go.

You raised your hips once more and slid your panties to the side. Rafael gripped his cock and lined it at your entrance. Slowly, you sunk down on Rafael’s cock. A dreamy smile spread on your face; the stretch his girth supplied was delicious. Rafael sighed as his cock was engulfed by your wet heat, gripping him like a vice. His hands gripped your hips and he brought you down until he was buried to the hilt. Resting your hands on his shoulders once more, you began to bounce on his cock and set the rhythm. Quiet moans and groans filled the office.

Rafael could not believe the sight before him – many nights he would lose himself in the fantasy of you and here it was happening. Your tits bounced with every thrust and he reached up to cup and squeeze. He sat up a bit to take a globe in his mouth.

“Oh God, oh God,” you half-whispered incoherently, the pleasurable sensations over taking you. “Don’t stop. Give it to me.”

Rafael grunted as he met you thrust for thrust, his fingertips digging into your skin. “Turn around,” he panted.

On shaky legs you stood and Rafael, now standing, pulled you to him. He pushed your sweaty hair from your forehead and then cupped your face. “The desk.”

You bent over the desk and spread your legs, in eager anticipation. Rafael positioned himself behind you. Hands ghosted your skin before taking residence at your hips. He rubbed his cock up and down your slit before he pressed himself fully; he withdrew a bit and before you could protest, snapped his hips, fully entering you. You both groaned at the sensation.

“Dios mio, you feel so good,” Rafael moaned out as he began to piston in and out of you. Waves of pleasure coursed through him. “Fuck!”

Rafael leaned down and pressed a love bite against your shoulder.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged. “Give it to me.”

“Take it Y/N; take that cock,” Rafael grunted. He slowed to rotate his hips, teasingly before he continued to fuck you without abandon. Your mewls served as encouragement. He reached around and gathered your hair into a ponytail and pulled. Sweat dripped off of your forehead and splashed down onto a legal pad that you were gripping in futility.

Fire pooled low in Rafael’s abdomen, signaling the anticipation of release.

Your orgasm began to build and you felt the air in your lungs begin to get sucked out of your body. Your walls started to flutter and Rafael knew you were close. He let go of your hair and reached around to rub concentric circles on your swollen nub. “Cum for me.”

You lurched forward and let out a bleated cry as you dissolved into pleasure, coming hard around his cock. Rafael gasped at the sensation of you coming undone and it added to his own release. “That’s it,” he murmured. “So good.”

Rafael’s thrusts were erratic as he pounded upwards into you and you knew he was close. “Come for me Rafael,” you choked out as air rushed back into your lungs, rolling the R in his name. “Damelo.”

Your words were his undoing and he let out a strangled cry as he stiffened, releasing into you. You could feel his cock pulse and twitch inside of you and you came again, your walls fluttering around. Your bodies slumped against one another. You were both dripping with sweat – partly from the overheated room, but mostly from your frenzied interlude. Rafael stumbled backwards and you mourned the loss. You straightened up and felt his release trickle from your cunt. You stood in front of each other awkwardly.

“That was…” Rafael began, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair was drenched and his crucifix was plastered to his skin.

A sudden banging interrupted him and you jumped. “Mr. Barba, Detective Y/L/N, it’s Jimmy with security. I have the locksmith with me. We’ll have you out of here in 10 minutes tops.”

Your eyes widened. ‘Shit.’ The two of you ran around the office scrambling for your clothes and to get re-dressed. The door opened as you shouldered your jacket back on.

“Woof, it’s hot in here,” Jimmy announced. “You guys alright?”

You and Rafael looked at each other. Rafael smiled. “Just perfect.”

You smiled back and looked at the clock. “Seems like we’ve got court in 15. We should go.”

Rafael nodded and motioned for you to go ahead. “After you.”

The two of you walked towards the elevator and waited for it to arrive, not another word spoken. Finally, unable to take the silence, you piped up. “So about that next time…”

The elevator dinged signaling its arrival and you both stepped into the elevator. “After court?” Rafael questioned. You noted the hopeful inflection in his tone.

“I’ll see what I can do about getting off early,” you replied staring at the screen marking the descent from the floor to the lobby.

“If there’s anyone getting you off – it’ll be me,” Rafael growled as he backed you into the wall into another kiss.

FIN.

#rafael barba smut #barba x reader #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #barba smut #law and order svu smut #rafael barba and reader

365 notes · View notes

random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Smile (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

For anon (request)

Genre: Slight angst to fluff

Summary: Shinsou has a crush on someone in 1-B and works up the courage to ask them on a date.

Tags: @wwwwyamd @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

Word count: 1,680

a/n: Ah, I missed writing for my tired purple boy. I just miss him in general, when I was searching for fanarts to post, I really was like “Damn I really miss Shinsou.” How many of you agree?

So this is a request that some of you have seen already, but I don’t quite want to spoil anything for anyone who’s new, so I’ll post it at the end. I'm glad I was able to extend this longer than I was planning, because I really only had just the one scene from the request in mind vividly and the rest I wrote as I went along.

I have 3 more requests, but I'm gonna take a break from them so I can write some of my own original ideas before starting those up again, so look forward to that! Enjoy this one!

(Also gender neutral pronouns they/them coming through!)

Buy me a coffee?

Shinsou first saw his crush at the beginning of the first semester. He was taken by their quirk, a pretty flashy light quirk. From what he overheard while they were telling their 1-B friend - he was totally not stalking, Shinsou doesn't stalk people - they can control the color of the light to do different things.

"Red light is a heat laser, green light heals, yellow warms things, blue cools things," they explained, the proudest smile on their face. "I'd say it's pretty versatile. And the more saturated the colors are, the more powerful they work!"

Shinsou was already intrigued by their quirk, but seeing their face light up was like icing on an already delicious cake. The sparkle in their hazel eyes, adorably smaller form that's the right right height for him to kiss their head, a smile he already decided he wanted to protect. If only he could go over there and ask them to tell him more about their quirk, but he was afraid that his intimidating figure would scare them away. Discouraged, he walked back to his own class to mope. Crushes and him never worked out in the past anyway; once they found out about his quirk, they would either run for the hills or try to abuse him.

However, he still longed to be with them. He found himself naturally searching through a crowd to find them. Each time, they would have the most brilliant smile on their face as they chatted with their friends. It always put a smile on Shinsou's face that they were happy being in the company of good friends. More and more, he found himself craving them to smile at something he said, to pat their head to greet them, just to hold them in his arms for a warm hug. It became less of a want and more of a need, but he held himself back for his heart's sake.

After the Sports Festival came and went, Shinsou had a change of heart. He's not a villain, he will only appear that way if he comes off like that. He won't let his quirk define him, and he'll make a much more pleasant impression so they wouldn't think of him as dark. He took the opportunity to work on himself as a person, gain more confidence in himself so he can put his best foot forward. He's won't let himself lack in any department, he'll only show the best parts of himself and present himself to them in a new-and-improved form.

After training with Aizawa for a while - not to mention bulking up quite a bit to improve his chances - Shinsou decides on the right time to face them. The purple haired boy practically shakes with anticipation the entire day. During his last class, he rehearses the words he's wanted to say since he first saw them.

"You're such a bright, shining person. To me, you stand out among everyone else. I'd like to get to know you better, would you mind going out with me?"

He second guesses every word and intonation, convinced that even the slightest error would throw the entire mood off and send the whole thing crashing down. He won't let that happen.

The final bell rings and Shinsou's practically the first person to jump from him seat, throw his belongings haphazardly into his bag, and rush out the door of the school building. Stationing himself at a nearby bench, he waits for them to come out, tapping his foot impatiently while still trying to look casual shoving his hands in his pockets.

Scanning the crowd of exiting students like a human radar, he searches for that smile he adores. His heart practically beats out of his chest when he locks onto them, homing in on them without paying any mind to the surrounding students. He collects himself and breathes, keeping in step behind them. They're talking to a friend of their's, going on about hero training and homework. He could listen to them talk indefinitely if he wanted, but then he wouldn't have the chance to confess his feelings.

Just you practiced big guy, go on. Do it for that precious smile. Shinsou gathers his wits and approaches just a bit closer. Do I say "hey?'" "Hi?" "Yo?" Damn it, just do what's natural! Calm down! He bites the bullet. "Hey." He's proud that it sounds casual enough.

The apple of his eye turns around curiously, their smile just faltering slightly from their conversation with their friend.

Take it away big guy. "Hey, I noticed you around. I think you're-"

It's then he notices. The way their eyes widen, the smile drops completely from their face, their skin turns pale, and Shinsou isn't sure why. He's sure he didn't say anything wrong, he's barely said anything. "Is-"

They let out a yelp and hide behind their friend, squeezing their eyes shut and quivering. Beyond bewilderment, Shinsou's chest hurts as his world darkens. The one person he wanted to smile at him and lighten his life plunged him into despairing blackness. All his fear of people hating him for his quirk and being frightened of him resurfaced. He feels naked, vulnerable, and ashamed all at once standing there frozen.

"You have to forgive them, it's not your fault." The friend offers a sympathetic smile.

"Did I do something wrong?" The entire ego he's spent the last few months popped in two seconds flat.

"No, it's not you, trust me." The girl pats the frightened soul behind her on the had to comfort them. "You see, they have a deathly fear of purple."

It almost sounds like some twisted joke, a prank the universe was playing on him for some unknown reason. "Oh. I see." That's all Shinsou manages to say in response. At least he's doing his best not to show how heartbroken he is.

"Sorry about that," the girl flashes another sheepish smile in half-comfort while his crush drags her away by the arm to escape what anyone from the outside would think is a monster.

And the monster is him.

Shinsou is way past disgruntled once he gets home. He doesn't know what to do now, what can he do now. Giving up would be the easiest thing to do, especially with how dejected he feels. The thing that hurts him the most is his sunshine who he never saw without their smile didn't smile when they were around him, all because of something else about him that he can't change.

He swiftly sits up from his laying position as an idea strikes him. Or can he?

Two weeks later, Shinsou shows up to school so people barely recognize him. He'd bought one of those hair coloring conditioners in black and washed his hair with it last night, and the brown colored contacts arrived shortly after he placed his order online. Shinsou isn't the type of guy to give up that easily, and for someone he really wants to get to know, he'll make it work. If he can temporarily change his appearance just to get to know them first, maybe he can be the one to help them get over their fear little by little.

Shinsou brushes away all the comments about his drastic appearance change; he's doing it for them and that's all that matters. He decides this time to just approach them at lunchtime, no dramatic openers or well-timed moments; a friendly conversation is just as good an introduction as he can get now.

He approaches them while throwing away their lunch alone, tapping their shoulder. "Hey." He holds his breath when they turn around again, eyes scanning his figure for recognition. "You don't know me, I'm in 1-C, we haven't spoken before."

A friendly grin spreads on their face. "Oh, it's good to meet you!"

The boy inwardly cheers in victory. "I'm Shinsou, your name is?"

"(Y/n)."

He rubs the back of his neck. He wants to be honest, but doesn't know how they'll take it. "I tried to talk to you a few weeks ago, but you were startled and ran off before I could say anything."

Their hazel eyes widen slightly before guilt morphs into their features. "Oh, you're that guy. I'm really sorry I did that to you, I must've made you feel awful." They groan, a sound Shinsou admittedly finds cute, red color rushing to their cheeks, "And you even changed your hair color and everything, I'm really sorry!"

"Hey, it's okay." Shinsou offers empathetically, "You shouldn't feel bad about things that you have no control over." He knows that feeling all too well. "I put the effort in because I want to get to know you better, it's not something you should feel bad about. I think you're cool, from what I've seen. We should hang out."

The boy can tell how taken back but grateful they are, a deep rooted appreciation shines from their eyes and more color saturating their cheeks. "I'm not that special, but I think you're a cool guy for doing this for me."

Shinsou's heart can't help but feel captured once again by their vulnerability. "It's what's on the inside that matters, I guess. Can I join you for the rest of lunch?"

And finally, he's rewarded with what he's wanted to see: His bright light shows him a beaming, toothy grin that crinkles up their eyes and puffs out their cheeks; it's a smile that's directed straight at him. As his heart thumps wildly in his chest, the boy thinks he can die happily in this very moment. "Of course! Let's go sit."

It takes him a moment and a cough to clear his throat before he's back on Earth, nodding and following them back to their table. As they walk next to him, he steals a few glances down, hoping that nothing else goes wrong. Even if they do, he knows he'll have to find a way to work around them. With that battery-charging smile, he knows he can figure out the solution to any problem.

So the full request from Anon was: “Hey you could take ALL the time at this but it wouldn't be sad if Shinsou's crush, the reader, is porphyrophobic. That means the reader is scared of the color purple. Have a good day!"

I hope I did it justice, it was originally gonna be just full angst, but it would only be drabble length, so I took it a step further. I hope it made you guys feel all warm inside :3

#Shinsou x reader #shinsou angst #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shinsou hitoshi #angst to fluff #gender neutral reader #request #shinsou imagine #shinsou scenario #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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kayrogers · 4 years

Text

to all the girls i've loved before ][ p. parker

a tatbilb au

Paring(s): LJ!tom holland x PK!reader

Inspo: TATBILB cause Peter is a total soft boi and also I'm a slut for rom-coms

Word Count: 1700+

Warning(s): cursing and awkward kissing

Part: prologue | part ??

A/N: this has literally been a draft in my notes for like over a year, but college has been creatively hitting me in the stomach with a baseball bat so I only wanted to start it when I got a semi-break. Obvs updates will not be regular just like everything else I write because I am the worst, but I mean thanks in advance if ya read it!

‘ Dear [Y/n] [Y/l/n],

First of all, I refuse to call you [Y/l/n]. You think you’re so cool, going by your last name all the sudden. Just so you know, that only makes you one of the guys. That’s it.

Did you know that I didn’t stop thinking about our kiss every time I saw you in school for at least the rest of seventh grade? Sometimes I think you do. Because you always seem to know everything. And you always smile when you see me blushing like you know you’re the reason why. That’s what I hate about you. Because you do just know, or at least you act like it. You’re too cool to be bothered by anything, or be wrong EVER.

Well here are some things you don’t know that I think:

You swear all the time and say the grossest things. I’ve heard every dirty joke Flash has ever made, and you beat him without trying! And you just assume everyone will think it’s cute cause you’re a pretty girl and you curse. And if they don’t, who cares, right? Wrong! You care. You care a lot about what people think of you.

You always show us bugs you think are cool and it’s gross. That’s terrifying and I hate when you stick them in my face cause I’m grossed out. It’s rude.

You’re so good at everything. Too good. I have to try harder around the guys to be half as cool as you.

You kissed me for no reason! You knew Flash wanted to kiss you. Everyone knew that Flash wanted to kiss you. He made all of us spit-shake on not kissing you if we ended up in the closet for 7 minutes in heaven because he liked you. But you still did it. Why? I wanted my first kiss to be special, and with my future girlfriend. All romantic, you know? That’s what it was supposed to be. And it wasn’t any of that. Thanks to you it was the most un-special kiss it could be AND I got my ass kicked by Flash!

The stupidest part is, that kiss made me like you. I never did before. Didn’t think of you as anything but one of the guys. Flash has always said you’re the prettiest girl we know. And yeah, that’s true. But I still didn’t LIKE you. Missed the hook that every other guy was on in middle school. A lot of people are beautiful. Doesn’t make them interesting or intriguing or cool.

Is that why you kissed me? Cause I was the only one who wasn’t wrapped around your finger? Well it worked! Ever since then, I saw you. I mean really looked at you. Behind every scratch, bump, and bruise from whatever sport you were playing, I saw you. How you weren’t just beautiful, that word isn’t good enough. You just exist effortlessly.

And yes, I did go through the thesaurus for that adjective. You’re hard to describe, [Y/n].

After you kissed me, I liked you for the rest of seventh grade and almost all of eighth. It’s not easy watching you with Flash. It’s also not easy when he shoves it in my face all the time cause he doesn’t like me anymore. So thanks for that! But I get it, if I had you I wouldn’t be able to shut up about you either. You make him feel special. Because that’s what you do, right? You’re good at making people feel special.

But not me anymore. I haven’t really seen you over the past year. And any time I do, you’re with Flash. Your spell has worn off [Y/n] [Y/l/n]. I am proud to say that I am once again the only boy in school to not be hooked into you. All because I got too much of you at once and now I don’t think I’ll want to be under that spell ever again.

What a relief!

Peter Benjamin Parker ’

You felt your brows furrow, cheeks equally red from a shyness you hadn’t felt in years and slight anger. Clearly he wrote this years ago, but why send it now? Right after Flash cheated on you?!

Did he like you? Did he hate you? Why did you care? It was just Peter-fucking-Parker.

You purse your lip, placing the letter back on the desk. Your blood boiled, heart skipping a beat. Every single reaction in your body was opposing and you hated how much it affected you.

So what would be the best course of action? To act like it didn’t effect you at all. At least, that’s what you saw as the right decision. It’d be easy, just let Parker down and tell him you didn’t feel the same. Because maybe that’s what this was? Maybe Peter did fall back “under your spell” and now that you were finally single he had to tell you? That was the only idea which came to your mind anyways.

You looked over at your closet, eyes focusing on your favorite shirt. It was a white crew neck sweater decorated in the entomology of beetles, and you decided you would be wearing that to turn him down.

“Don’t like my bugs? Yeah okay, Dickhead.” You muttered and pulled the item out before forming the rest of the outfit which consisted of running shorts and sneakers. Classy, right?

You took a picture of the letter before folding it back up and placing it into the envelope. Why? Well not that you’d admit it, but you were never complimented like that before. And that part of the letter made you feel kinda nice actually. He paid attention to you back then, which could have been sweet once upon a time. Now? Now you didn’t know how to feel about it and that bothered you immensely.

Later, in school, You mulled over how you would confront the boy. It was weird, really weird. You and Peter hadn’t really talked since middle school and the most the two of you interacted in high school was you apologizing for Flash being a dick to him about 24/7. And now he was apparently infatuated with you once and you had to tell him that you didn’t feel the same. But as the clock ticked on, you knew you had at least one class with him and that was gym.

You anxiously gripped the letter in your hand, jogging along the track and looking for a familiar set of brown curls. It didn’t take long for you to catch up with him, spotting Peter and Ned half-walking the whole thing while the gym teacher wasn’t looking.

“Yo Parker! Wait up a second.” You called and his head whipped around, his eyes instantly going to your sweater.

‘Do bugs really bother him that much?’ You thought and held back a frown before shrugging it off. There were more important matters.

“Nice shirt! Is it accurate?” Ned instantly chirped up and you let yourself smirk, he always had such an excited demeanor in a way that could light up a room if anyone bothered to notice him.

“You think you’d catch me wearing pseudoscience? What the hell do you take me for?” That smirk grew into a smile as you spoke to Ned, not noticing the pale color staining Peter’s face. Because while you were focused on Ned, Peter was focused on you.

Specifically, the letter in your hand.

“You’re right, I apologize. What brings you over here anyways? You usually lap us twice by now.” You looked over to Peter while Ned talked, watching how he was unable to even look up from your hand.

“I wanted to talk to Peter, actually… alone?” You scratched the back of your neck while Ned let out a big ‘ohh’ and quickly made himself scarce.

The boy looked more nervous than you had ever seen him, running his hands through his hair so much that every knot could have been plucked out by now.

“What um- what’s up, [Y/n]?”

“Listen, I’m gonna make this quick to save both of us the awkwardness. I think it’s really nice that you think I’m one of the prettiest girls in our grade and stuff… but me and Flash just broke up and I really don’t see you that way-”

The only thing you heard from him was an exasperated ‘what?’ before practically watching the boy fall in slow motion. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and you gasped out loud when his head hit the ground.

“Oh my god, Peter!” Dropping to the ground after him, you immediately move his hair from his eyes and wave your hand in front of his face.

“Are you okay? Parker? Do you know your name? What day is it?” You gave a choppy version of the concussion questions your coaches asked after a particularly bad hit to the head, panic evident in your eyes.

‘Did I just concuss this kid?!’ you thought wildly.

Slowly, he sat up, taking a couple breaths while you kept your hand on his shoulder. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said exasperated and you watched his eyes grow twice their size as he glanced to his left.

Storming towards the two of you was a recognizable scowl, an envelope in her hand. Michelle Jones. She was MJ to you, once upon a time, but you couldn’t think of the last time the two of you said a word to each other.

“Oh god!” Peter rolled his eyes, grabbing your attention yet again.

In a blink, the boy had managed to grab your waist and pin you underneath him, one hand was gently caressing your head while the other wrapped underneath you. You couldn’t even take a breath before his lips were on yours, surprise flooding your system. His lips were soft and you hadn’t even realized how your body instantly reacted to him as if you had done this a thousand times before, kissing him in a quick but simple rhythm. But once your brain did register it? You grabbed his face, separating the two of you.

“Parker, the fuck?!-”

“Bye!” He blurted out before letting go of you and running off at a speed you didn’t even think was possible for him.

So this left you, alone, confused, and strangely breathless on the ground.

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

taglist(s):

tatgilb -

permanent -

@ultrunning @jesseswartzwelder

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tatbilb #tatbilb imagine #tatbilb au #au #spiderman homecoming #marvel imagine #spiderman imagine

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shesidewalks · 4 years

Text

“Precious” (Yunho GryffindorSeeker! x Ravenclaw reader)

Prologue:

In the years since Harry Potter’s defeat of the mass-murder, Tom Riddle, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had grown spectacularly. Not only did it remain the largest school for witchcraft and wizardry in western Europe, but it now also boasted an increasingly diverse population—thanks in part to muggle innovations and in part to Hogwarts’s wildly famous reputation as the home of Harry Potter.

Potter, now an auror for the Ministry of Magic, had ushered in a new era of inclusivity. No longer were wizarding schools restricted to drawing students from the local populace. Instead, it was quite common for student to transfer from one school to another at his or her whim, or study abroad across the globe. Courses such as History of Magic now included histories beyond the purview of the school’s locality. Herbologists and magical-creature enthusiasts were keen to import and export exotic species of plant and animal, without harming the indigenous populations of either, of course. Although, occasionally the International Ministry of Magic was called in to capture an escaped Japanese kitsune or South African Grootslang.

Defenses against the Dark Arts were bolstered, Quidditch players added to their playbooks and furiously studied the techniques of teams in the Americas, Asia, and Africa. Thanks to the best-selling book by Oliver Wood, 702 Ways to Win in Quidditch: A Global Perspective, Quidditch had never been so brutally competitive.

The wizarding world finally became a world instead of a series of independent islands.

In the early summer of 2010, Jeong Yun-ho of Gwanju, South Korea, received several acceptance letters: one from Daltokki Akademi (Academy of the Moon Rabbit) in Seoul, one from Ilvermorny in North America, one from a particularly prestigious shōgakko in Tokyo, and, finally, one from Hogwarts.

Korean witches and wizards had suffered greatly in the so-called Korean War that had taken place a few generations back. Although the muggles assumed the war took place for some political reason or other, in reality, the war had been a dispute between the two most powerful magical families in Korea: the Bams and the Moons. The former had grown tired of hiding behind a non-magical government and sought to overthrow the regime, using the muggle’s world war as an excuse to do so.

The Moons, on the other hand, defended the non-magical population and fought to protect it. The ending result was a stalemate. As it stood, the North could (and did) practice magic openly but its people were forbidden to leave unless they agreed to hide their magic, or else they would incur the wrath of the entire wizarding community. The South continued to hide their magic for the sake of the muggles, who had always been rather touchy about the supernatural.

Yun-ho’s family, the Jeongs, had been ardent supporters of the South and, after the war, were given a great gift by the newly formed government: a Jeong would never have to pay for school as long the Moons were in power.

Yun-ho, then, had a great choice to make. The world was, quite literally, his for the taking—and he had only just turned 11 years old in the March.

His parents would support him wherever he went; however, his mother was rather partial toward the local Akademi and made her sentiments known. On more than one occasion, Yun-ho would wake up in the morning with Moon Rabbit paraphernalia draped across the foot of his bed. Sometimes there would be an actual rabbit staring back at him.

Yet, as a lover of the wizard sport of Quidditch, Yun-ho had always secretly wanted to go to Hogwarts. All the best players went there, including Moon Seung—who was currently the top-ranked beater in the world. Seung also happened to be the nephew of President Moon (who was leader of both the non-magical and magical communities in South Korea) but that was far less impressive than his Quidditch skill.

So, when it came time for Yun-ho to decide, he picked Hogwarts.

It didn’t matter that he knew only a handful on English words and had no idea how he’d pass any of his classes—all that mattered was his determination to play. What else did he need to know?

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

4 Years Later

“YUUUUUUNNNNN!!!!!”

“HOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

“YUUUUUUNNNNN!!!!!!”

“HOOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

The shouts from the crowd deafened Yun-ho’s ears as he entered the Hogwarts stadium. He flashed a grin in the direction of the stands. The noise grew louder…and noticeably more high-pitched.

“OI! Stop flirting and get your snitch-seeking ass over here!”

Turning back around, Yun-ho still couldn’t keep the lopsided smile off his face. He joined the rest of the Gryffindor team and faced his grouchy captain, a sixth year by the name of Walter Beezle.

Beezle was a small, stocky lad from South London who liked to believe he was of pure Viking ancestry. His head was shaved to a dark stubble and he sported an impressive black beard which had taken 3 of his 6 years at Hogwarts to grow in. His eyebrows were set in a permanent, bushy glare.

He reminded Yun-ho of a grimy, moss-covered rock.

The comparison was apt.

Wally scowled up at Yunho as he approached but said nothing more than:

“Win or die, boys.”

With that, the Gryffindor team lined up and waited for the whistle.

It was a bloodbath.

Gryffindor smashed Hufflepuff, beating them by 350 points. Yun-ho caught the snitch as a mercy more than anything. A fact that did not go unnoticed by the rest of the team who, between celebratory whoops, eyed him suspiciously.

He quietly excused himself from the afterparty before Beezle could sniff him out. Unfortunately, he still had a few hours to go before he could safely return to the Gryffindor common room. His admirers would notice his absence at the party and try to beat him to his bed and—worse—make his teammates hate him more than they already did.

Well, they didn’t hate him, not really. Gryffindors were “loyal” and Yun-ho knew that they didn’t wish him any actual harm, but it didn’t stop them from muttering darkly whenever his Eagle Owl dropped a letter from an admiring fan—usually a girl.

It didn’t help that he was whopping 1.82 meters and breathtakingly handsome.

And it most certainly didn’t help that he was a Metamorphmagus whose hair seemed to have a mind of its own, changing color with his mood. At the moment it had streaks of rose and blonde and blue.

For these reasons, and probably many others, he stood out like a sore thumb.

Whenever he felt outlandish or in danger of fraternal jealousy (which was now) Yun-ho would walk the edge of the forbidden forest and drop in on the jolly groundskeeper, Hagrid, who kept a small hut on the border between the forest and the school grounds.

The sun was just beginning to set when Yun-ho happened upon Hagrid’s hut. Smoke was lazily huffing out from the chimney and a soft firelight emanated peacefully from the dirt-smudged windows. Yun-ho could already hear Fang II’s snores even though he was still a good distance from the front door.

Fang I had passed on to the great dog kennel in the sky a decade or so ago and Hagrid couldn’t live without a dog (or exceptionally dangerous magical creatures, for that matter), so the half-giant adopted another mastiff and christened him Fang II.

It had been Fang II who had been Yun-ho’s first friend at Hogwarts, back when he couldn’t speak the language of his classmates and had felt most alone. Luckily, Fang II didn’t speak English either and his master understood what it was like to be an outsider—literally.

Hagrid quickly became Yun-ho’s second friend and, now, his very best. He was probably waiting for Yun-ho now, eager to hear about the game.

On this particular evening, however, Hagrid would never hear about Gryffindor’s almost embarrassing victory over Hufflepuff; Yun-ho never knocked on his front door. Fang II kept snoring peacefully by the fireplace.

Because somewhere in the woods nearby, a girl was crying.

#ateez #ateez au #yunho x reader #Harry Potter #CrossOver

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pxnk-velvet · 4 years

Text

The Dancing Warrior: Water, Chapter 8

(Sokka x OC Reader)

“I don’t even know where to begin!” Aunt Wu exclaimed, cradling Navani’s hand in hers.

Navani just sat on her knees with wide eyes, speechless. Not out of shock, well, maybe a little, but mostly from the fact that she just simply didn’t know what to say.

Aunt Wu continued, “My, my dear. You have much significance in your life. You are going to do great things!”

Navani opened her mouth to speak, but shied away quickly after.

Aunt Wu smiled, “I can tell you have a lot on your mind. Tell me, dear.”

“Ok...” Navani sighed, “I just have so many questions and I don’t even know if I’ll get the answers and-“

“Take a deep breath and relax. Open your mind to receiving the information I am about to tell you.” Aunt Wu instructed, taking hold of Navani’s wrists.

Navani did as told, allowing her muscles to relax, “Ok.”

“Like I mentioned before, you are on to do great things in life. Now and later in your life. You were destined for this. As well as your abilities. I can tell that when you were born, you were chosen. The planets were aligned just right and the universe allowed for the unity of two elements within you. The connection between your parents with contradicting bending types is what allowed you to obtain control over water and fire. You are one of the few dual benders known to man. The last fire and water bender known had died over 15,000 years ago. So you, my dear, are the first in quite a long time and indeed, special.”

She was officially shocked now, “How did you know? I didn’t mention anything about my bending.”

Aunt Wu chuckled, “I can tell because of your palms. Each type of bending has different feelings or textures on a palm. And you, my dear, are a perfect mix of water and fire. That’s how I know your parents has a deep connection within themselves. Because you are equally powerful bender water or fire. Even though fire is your more dominant form, you hold a lot of potential with your water bending. Not only is your bending exceptionally developed, you fight and dancing skills are like no other. Often times when doing so, the lines between the two blur. This is why you are known as The Dancing Warrior across all of the land. Many people, myself included, have seen you perform.”

Navani’s mood deflated at the small detail, maybe she was just making this all up if she already knew of her. But....she knew about her dual bending when nobody but herself, her friends, and her mother knew. She decided on letting it slide, shaking the though from her mind.

“Now, my dear, let’s move onto your future.”

Navani perked up and there was no denying that she wasn’t just the slightest bit excited for this part.

“I see in your future that you will have great impact on future generations. Inventing and teaching a whole new style of combat that will last a life time.” Aunt Wu gushed, running her fingers ove Navani’s palm like she had done before.

“You will marry a strong young man. At the moment he still has yet to mature into manhood. However his time with you will teach him many things, like how to love without fear of lose. How to be mature, yet still have a fun glow to himself. And you are very lucky, my dear, because you’ve already met him!”

Navani gasped, “I have! What’s his name?”

Aunt Wu gave a hearty chuckle, “That you’ll have to figure out for yourself, dear. Let’s continue, shall we? How about we discuss your children.”

Navani’s eyebrows raised as she nodded, surprised at the sudden switch of subject.

“You and your future husband will want a lot of children.”

Navani recoiled, “Eh. I’m not the biggest fan of children. They’re so much work.”

Aunt Wu chuckled yet again, “That change come your marriage, dear....However, for some reason, I only see two in your future. To put it frankly, you’re going to have a hard time trying. You will try time and time again but in the end you’ll only have a son and a daughter. They will both be strong individuals. They will be the ones to continue your legacy and family, enlarging it greatly.”

“Really?” Navani wondered, “So that means I’m going to have a lot of grandchildren?”

“Exactly, my dear! 5 grandsons and 2 granddaughters to be specific. They are going to have a strong bond.”

Navani smiled at the thought, “At least they have each other. Could you maybe tell me more about this guy I’m going to marry?” She pushed with a guilty smile.

===

“Welp, now you got to see that fortune telling is just a big stupid hoax!” Sokka exclaimed as the group left Aunt Wu’s place, “Right, Navani?”

“Huh?” She was so caught up in her head that she hadn’t been paying attention, walking aimlessly by Sokka’s side.

“You’re just saying that because you’re gonna make yourself unhappy your whole life.” Katara threw back at him with a smirk.

“That woman is crazy.” Sokka yelled out, “My life will be calm and happy and joyful!”

He angrily kicked a rock, only to have it ricochet off of a sign and hit him in the head.

“Oh, Sokka!” Navani rushed over to help him off the ground.

“That doesn’t prove anything!”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything! Aunt Wu told me the future is always changing with every little decision you make.” Navani explained, grabbing Sokka by the arm and hauling him up, onto his feet.

“Well, I liked my predictions.” Katara said happily, “Certain things are gonna turn out very well.”

Aang smiled, “They sure are.”

Katara turned to him with an interested look on her face, “Why? What did she tell you?”

Navani giggled as Aang responded, “Some....stuff. You’ll find out.”

“Navani,” Katara called, “What did Aunt Wu say for you?”

“Oh, well...uh,” She shied away, kicking the ground with the toe of her shoe, “She told me why I can bend two elements. And that I’m going to marry a handsome, strong guy and we’re going to have a big family together with lots of grandkids.”

“Don’t you mean regular kids?” Sokka questioned from her side. Katara quick to hit her brother’s arm for asking such a personal question.

“Apparently, in the future it’s going to be a struggle for me to have children....” The girl explained, heat rising to her cheeks as she rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed.

At this point the group had continued walking through the small village.

Katara came quick to the rescue, “Well, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Everyone is different. But you are going to have kids right?”

Navani nodded, keeping her head down, “Yeah, she said I’d have a son and daughter. I guess I’m ok with it because I don’t really like kids. But Aunt Wu said that would change once I got married.”

“Well,” Sokka turned to her, “I’m sure whoever marries you will be one lucky guy.” Only loud enough for Navani to here.

She gave a quick thanks, the blush on her cheeks before now a blazing pink.

“What did she say about your bending?” Aang asked excitedly with a little skip in his walk.

Navani perked up at this, “She said I was the first fire and water bender in over 15,000 years! And that the reason I can bend two elements in the first place is because the universe chose me! Can you believe it?”

“Wow! I wish I was specially picked by the universe.” Aang said jokingly, raising his arms to the sky.

“Aang!” The three others exclaimed with their jaws on the floor.

“What?”

Sokka shouted, “You’re the Avatar for spirits sake! What could be more special then that!”

===

After the small population of the village had gathered in the square for Aunt Wu’s prediction, which was a disaster to say the least, Navani had found herself strolling through the streets. Walking quietly as her thoughts rattled around in her head. She was thinking about everything but nothing at the same time. It was hard to focus on one thing when it had all been thrown in her face like that. She was trying her best to comprehend as much as possible. Eventually she gave up, deciding she needed to just push those thoughts aside and focus on something else. As of the moment, her stomach was speaking to her. Loudly.

Soon she found herself at a little fruit stand, looking at the colorful assortment. Deciding on some mango slices.

She picked up the little parcel, turning to the young man running the stand, “How much for the mango slices?”

The man, or boy for that matter, looked about her age and very handsome. He flashed her a warm smile and said, “It’s on the house. Some delicious mango for a beautiful lady.” He bowed lightly with a look in his eye.

She smiled brightly, cocking her head, “Why, thank you. Have a nice day.” She spoke over her shoulder as she turned to walk off. Her stomach grumbled wildly and she knew she couldn’t wait any longer, so she continued on.

She unraveled the parcel, turning the corner of a build. Only to come face first with a blue Water Tribe tunic. She fell flat on her butt, making sure her mango slices did not fall from her clutch.

“Jeez, Navani. What’s with you always running into me?” Sokka teased, taking hold of the girl and helping her into her feet.

She scoffed and nudged his shoulder playfully, falling into step with him as they walked side by side down the stree. “Me?! Maybe you should be more aware of your surroundings next time,” She retorted, taking a bite of her snack.

He laughed, “Well I’m not the one stuffing mango in my face.” She scrunched her nose, finishing off her slice and offering one to him.

He took it from her, his fingers gliding against her ever so slightly, popping it into his mouth. She continued, “I’m hungry, alright? You can’t blame a girl for a bodily function.”

They both gave hearty laughed, as they continued on with their little stroll, sharing mango slices. After a short while, Navani had taken notice to how close they were walking together. So close that every so often their knuckles would brush against each other, causing an eruption of butterflies in her stomach. Eventually they slowed as they passed a beautiful fountain. She had been admiring the water and the way it glistened in the sun when she felt his gaze on her. She turn and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. With a heart melting smile, she took his hand in hers. Giggling at the bright blush on his cheeks.

He looked down at their hands then back up at her, “You have really soft hands.”

All anyone within earshot could hear was the two teenagers laughing, simply enjoying a nice time.

[][][]

Taglist!

(Always open, just let me know if you want to be added! ❤️)

@harmlessoffering

@eat-a-brick714

@none-of-ur-frackin-business

@smolbitch2006

@the-natureofme

@kaylove12

#avatar the last airbender #aang the last airbender #sokka #sokka x oc #sokka imagine #sokka x reader #atla sokka #sokka of the southern water tribe #katara #aang #toph #zuko #iroh #navani #original character #series

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

Love me, love me not ~ pt.2

02: When Grayson stakes his claim

Summary: Grayson spends a day with Y/N, heavily recorded by the paparazzi. However, just as the day ends, things get a little hot and heavy.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst

Word count: ~ 2.6k

Love me, love me not ~ Series Masterlist

“Why would we go with your car?” Y/N crossed her arms, already on edge with their first outing minutes away and she just wanted the safety and comfort of her car – the familiarity of the pine scent and designated playlists for every opportunity far too appealing to her than the car Grayson offered her.

Sure, she had caught herself staring at the beautiful Porsche in his driveway more than once, the baby blue being her favorite color didn’t help either, however, she wanted a better reason than ‘it looks pretty’ for her to trust Grayson and his driving skills.

“Because if I’m driving, they’ll buy into it easier, especially if we want to make it seem like we’re a little closer than friends. I mean, I rarely let people into my car and my fans will know.” Grayson smirked as her frown deepened, knowing his poorly executed argument had gotten her thinking long enough to assume he was successful.

She swayed back and forth, ever so slightly, almost invisibly to an untrained eye, but Grayson had paid enough attention to notice. She pursed her pink lips, her discontent evident but the crease between her eyebrows had made his stomach flip, now grateful he has a chance to be near such a beauty, such an enigma.

“But if you end up driving me home, I’d have to get a cab to my shoot in the morning. I hate cabs.” She noted, stepping closer as her arms resumed their favorite – crossed over stomach, just under her breasts – position and Grayson had to force himself not to look down, reminding himself to be respectful.

“What if I stayed over? That way, they’d get a shot of me in front of your building and they’ll fill in the blanks. And then I can drive you myself?” Grayson counters, realizing this is how it’s going to be – negotiating every move they make, regardless if they’re making it alone or as a couple. But his words lit her up, the cute crease between her eyebrows disappearing as her face softened and her disgruntled worry turned to a weak smile – weak, but genuine.

They sat in the car, a little uncomfortable and unsure of what to do, now too close to run from each other and too close to not acknowledge they'll need to learn how to live with one another.

“Where should I go?” Grayson questioned, leaving it up to her as her team probably set up a paparazzi trap already.

“Beach. We’re having an ice cream and take a romantic stroll.” She responded, face remaining impassive.

“Should we…Try and be a bit touchy?” Grayson asked, carefully as if he’s tiptoeing around shattered glass, waiting to get cut in case he makes a wrong move.

Shrugging, she turned to him, swallowing as she found his beauty compelling. “Sure. If it feels right.”

Grayson felt her burning gaze, finding it hard to concentrate. She observed him, captured in his soft glow – so naturally charming and appealing, genuine and sweet. She couldn’t understand why he needed to resort to this stunt because if he couldn’t get that role on his own, who the hell could? He reminded her of her ex, way before things went downhill. And that wing shaped earring on his ear had made her stomach flip, taking her back to a time when she was just a girl who loved watching a goofy set of twins on her screen every Tuesday night. Back then, things were simple. But would she ever admit any of it to him? Probably not. It would cross boundaries and blur lines she preferred to be quite clear. It would save them both some grief.

But then he turned to her and she nearly gasped. His eyes were the softest brown infused with green, as if he held the new spring growth inside. They were the forest ground and the gentle flowers, somewhere to rest and breathe. And she knew she had to look away and end her infatuation.

“If it feels right?” Grayson raised an eyebrow, not as oblivious as she hoped he’d be. He could tell she was looking his way, even more, he could tell she liked what she saw. But he decided not to call her out on it, letting it go for now.

“You’ll know. Trust me.” She smiled, glancing back at him, catching his eye for a moment longer before looking down on her phone. “The paparazzi are there. You probably won’t see them right away, but they’ll be around. So, hold my hand and smile softly, try to act like your life depends on it, because it does. In a way.” She instructed, giving him a fair warning. And he believed her. He knew she was already a pro in Hollywood, even if she’d say otherwise due to her one year tenure, but it was better than being a novice like he is.

Grayson parked, taking in a deep breath before putting on a smile. “Wait inside.” Getting out, he made his way around in a few seconds, opening her door like a proper gentleman, offering her his hand to take. She could lie and say she wasn’t surprised by how well he already played the part, but she wasn’t the type.

“Impressive, Dolan. I like your style.” She took his hand, her cold one bringing a chill down his back as he closed the door behind her and locked the door with a single click. Intertwining their fingers, Grayson smiled at her, bringing their hands up to press a chaste kiss on the back of hers, bringing out that blush he had craved to see ever since it faded.

“Very convincing.” She leaned into him, her hair tickling his arm even through the fabric of his shirt – one that’s a bit too fancy for a beach date and would guarantee him to drown in sweat, but it matched the look he wanted to have – sophisticated with a touch of sugar daddy.

“I already see the flashes.” He spoke through a smile, trying to remain impassive to the situation, but he couldn’t. He knew this would be a norm after he made it, but it wasn’t a very lovable part of his job. He was chased after by fans before, but paparazzi was never a concern. Until now.

They walked into the ice cream shop, Grayson pressing his lips together as he looked for something to get, while Y/N didn’t have a dilemma. She had pressed her face against the glass like a kid, playful for the first time since he had met her and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s who she really is or if this was all for show.

“I want the cherry one mixed with the yogurt one and sprinkles on top, in a cup please!” She ordered, straightening her back as she clapped her hands in excitement, looking back on Grayson who had a hard time looking away. A part of her was smug about it, knowing she’s left a lasting impression on him and he clearly liked her – a girl can always tell. Especially when the guys like Grayson have one of those hearts that easily feel for others. She already knew he’s a romantic one, bringing to life all the times she talked to her best friend about meeting him one day and wondering if he’d ever give her a second look.

Well, she had her answer now.

A smile flashed across her face from beneath reams of hair. It created slight dimples and creases that made Grayson almost breathless. Even though it was gone quickly, it was still there. She dipped her head down; never someone to be loud or extroverted despite her image. That was something he already appreciated in so many ways because she just got on with it and never needed anyone else’s validation. She was fierce and yet still so soft about it, a rare combination. Casting her eyes to the side, Grayson could see the shape of her face like a silhouette. It gracefully moved up and over her cheek bones then slanted sharply at her mouth.

“He’ll have a dairy free option.” She told the young girl behind the counter, already taking over his order since he remained quiet for too long.

“We only have chocolate.” The girl frowned, making Grayson nod.

“Chocolate is fine.” He took the cup and paid for them both, noticing her lips part to remark his choice only for them to seal a moment after, replaced by smile.

He couldn’t place his arm around her, busy with the tiny spoon and chocolate goodness, but he could walk close this time around, leading her to a distant rock, rather close to the shore.

“Did you mind me ordering for you?” She asked, a little frail in comparison to her usual sturdy, very certain self.

“No. Kind of shocked you knew I’m lactose intolerant, but that’s all.” Grayson shot her a smile, one that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that sent an unexpected warmth crashing through her body.

“Did my research.” She quipped, trying to stop the almost lovey dovey talk he wanted to start.

Sitting down, they ate their ice cream in peace, watching the crashing waves as they hit the rock they were perched on, silent and very well aware they weren’t alone. A flash would come through every few minutes, especially when Y/N leaned her head on Grayson’s shoulder.

“Wanna take that stroll now?” Grayson is the first to speak. He got down first, taking on a daring task when he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her down with him as she squealed. She had both palms plastered against his chest, his heart beating wildly for her to feel as she giggled, clearly surprised by his chivalry.

“Thanks.” She brushed back a loose strand of hair from her face, smiling up at the guy she would be stuck with for a while…not stuck with, no…she’d just be with him…they’ll just be.

“Yeah, didn’t want you taking the jump. It was kind of iffy for me too.” Grayson sneaked a hand around her waist, pulling her into his side before placing it over her shoulder, his hand open, his fingers fanned out casually. Y/N saw the perfect opportunity, lifting her left hand up, her fingers filling the empty places between his and while he seemed startled, Grayson felt his heart jump with the action.

Walking together at sunset, smiling, they were picture perfect target for everyone who recognized him and the photos were already surfacing online from fans who were quite honestly shocked by the pairing.

“You do realize I can only get you an audition. The casting director owes me, but you need to nail this on your own.” She told him, noticing the way he bit his lip in response, clearly a sign of anxiety. “Which is why I could give you pointers, if you’d like?” She offered shyly, unsure if she’s doing it to keep her end of the deal or if he just wanted more time with him. Probably a bit of both.

“Y-yeah, that – that would be great!” Grayson stuttered, not expecting her to ever want to help or spend extra time around him, but she did and he couldn’t quite believe his ears. His hand released hers as he stepped before her, grabbing her so suddenly she yelped so loudly the cameras caught it. He had pulled her in and up, twirling her around so easily, as if she weighed as much as a feather, his grin so wide as her hands came down on his shoulders to keep herself steady, a pure smile appearing on her lips as well.

Lowering her back to the sand, they were both out of breath and giggly, her hands clutching his clothes before giggling once more, resuming their previous position, a little closer this time around. They walked back to the car, getting inside, more sure this alliance was a good one than before.

“If you listen to me, I think you’ll get it.” She said as she put her seatbelt on, watching him do the same – safety first. She typed in her address into his GPS, leaning back into her seat.

“I mean, they don’t call me Mercy for nothing.” She locked the door manually, more free and comfortable than she was when they first came here and definitely chatty in comparison.

“Why do they call you that?” Grayson asked, because no matter how hard he looked, he never found out why. It seemed like one day, the nickname appeared and just stuck.

“My boy – ex boyfriend called me that in an interview because every audition I ever went to ended up with a callback and eventually an official offer for the role. He said the rest of the people going against me are begging for mercy whenever I show up and I always knock ‘em down. My team heard him say it and it stuck.” She shrugged, pressing her lips together as her eyes dropped to her lap instead of ahead or toward him. Grayson was no fool, he could tell she was having a hard time talking about it – either the nickname or the ex.

“Do you mind me calling you Y/N, instead?” He asked, wondering if he had called her Mercy at all that day.

“Nope. I think the nickname is dreadful. Never liked it.”

Finally home, Grayson and Y/N thought they were in the clear, however, they were very wrong. The moment they stepped out of the car, they were instantly surrounded by fans and paparazzi, forcing Grayson to wrap his arms around Y/N in order to keep her at a safe distance.

They called out for them : Grayson and Mercy, some even using the newly formed ship name – Mayson, but what really got them wasn’t the crowd that building security had stopped from following them, rather a tall man standing in front of her building – her ex-boyfriend – Henry Cavill.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N hissed out, feeling her blood turn to poison as Henry stepped closer, stopping once Grayson stepped in front of her – a shield to keep her from him.

“I see you’ve found yourself a new one? One more guy to screw over?” Henry spoke quietly, just enough for the pair to hear, but the crowd couldn’t.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Grayson’s face darkened, visibly clenching his jaw as he felt heat rush to his head.

“Oh, please. You won’t last.” Henry waved his hand back, as if Grayson was a leaf and he the wind that will send him flying. “She’s had a real man and she’ll want a man again. You’re probably some pathetic PR stunt for her.” Henry’s words had brought up something Grayson had tried really hard to control and repress every day. It was a constant battle for Grayson to keep his anger in check – exercising control in every aspect of his life by working out often, by yoga to keep himself centered, by having chores and early mornings – all to exhaust himself and let the anger go. But Henry had him on edge and lucky for them both, Y/N had senses it, placing her hand on his bawled up fist – the cold bringing his temperature down just enough to breathe in and think properly.

That’s when he turned around – so quickly, his warm hands cupping her face as he leaned down, smashing his lips onto hers, and staking his claim.

Tags: @xalayx @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @anything-dolan @peacedolantwins @maybgrayson @nowheredolan @graydolan12 @beautorigin @justordinaryjen @starrydolan @pitreshawn @grays-laugh

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan series #dolan twins #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan x y/n

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patchwork-panda · 4 years

Text

If A Moment Is All We Are (13/?)

AO3 link: here (Fun fact: This was actually one of the earliest scenes written and is one of the reasons why I decided to turn this story into a full fic.)

“Kyou-chan, is that you?!”

A stack of papers fell to the ground. Kirako stared at me from the reception area, her mouth dropping open in shock as I stepped through the doors into the Armed Detective Agency’s main office.

“You look amazing! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Don’t just stand there!” Yosano insisted, planting two black-gloved hands on my back and shoving me forward when she noticed I’d actually stopped moving. “Go inside! We need to show you off!”

Ignoring the uncomfortable whining noises coming out of my throat, Yosano kept pushing me deeper and deeper into the room until I was standing in the middle of the office, stiff as a statue as the other receptionists and detectives shuffled forward to see what the commotion was about.

“Gather round, everyone!” Yosano called, as if I were a show pony being brought in for a performance, “I give you... the new and improved Kyou-chan! Doesn’t she look like a proper detective now?”

I didn’t just look more like a proper detective now, I looked like an entirely different person—one who didn’t spend the last six months holed up in an apartment watching anime and forgetting to shower. My new “uniform,” as Yosano called it, consisted of several basic pieces. I was wearing a crisp, white short-sleeve blouse with slightly puffy sleeves, tucked into a high-waisted burgundy A-line skirt (same color as my eyes) that ended just around my knees. I wore a pair of coffee-brown Oxfords on my feet with low, white socks and to complete the look, Yosano had tied a bright red ribbon around my neck, to draw attention to my face. She’d also insisted I purchase a tan, blazer-like jacket (it was almost as long as my skirt) for the colder days and a portfolio-style messenger bag for my notebooks and sketching supplies. Overall, the final result was pretty staggering and I noticed we’d definitely gotten a few stares as we walked back to the Agency together.

“Yosano-sensei!” one of the girls exclaimed, raising her hand high in the air. “Do me next! I want a makeover too!”

As Yosano beamed beside me like a proud mother, chatting with the girls about all the shops she’d taken me to—dragged me to, more like—I found myself fiddling with my new clothes again.

“Prepare yourself,” she’d said the other day. I had taken that to mean shaving my legs and showering before we’d gone out. I didn’t realize that I should’ve prepared for a full day’s outing crammed into the span of a few hours. And after the night I’d had too...

Something had happened to my brain the day I’d finished the serial killing/kidnapping case—something strange that I really didn’t want to think too hard about... I couldn’t look Kunikida in the face the entire way back to the Agency and when the tall, blonde detective had insisted on sitting right there next to me for the rest of the evening, I was barely able to concentrate on writing my reports. If I hadn’t offered to finish doing the filing for him, I might’ve never gotten him to leave, and then I really wouldn’t have been able to get anything done. And to think, Kunikida had actually been planning to stay a little later and even walk me home...!

I had to turn him down. My heart would not have been able to handle it.

I ended up staying way later than I initially expected and I was so drained by the time I made it back to my apartment, that it was all I could do to remember to brush and floss before I completely passed out on my futon.

Then, at seven in the morning, just before my alarm was supposed to go off, I woke to the racket of someone ringing my doorbell nonstop and my cell phone buzzing like crazy. If it wasn’t for caller ID, I would’ve assumed it was another prank by Dazai or that the Port Mafia had come to get me but it was only Yosano, coming to take me shopping like she’d promised. I’d wrongfully assumed she’d meant Friday afternoon, after work (it was a rare half-day after all) but no, she wanted to make a day of it.

“You deserve a break after finishing your first major case!” she’d exclaimed, dragging me out the door as soon as I’d finished putting on a pair of shoes. “Now that you’re on your way to becoming a real detective, we need to dress you like one.”

Everything had happened so fast—taking the train to the fashion district—being marched into shops I would never set foot in on my own—getting shoved into dressing rooms with my arms piled high with all sorts of clothes—on and on until hours had passed and I was walking down the street with several bags in my hands and a brand new outfit on my body (I suspected Yosano had quietly disposed of the raggedy hoodie and jeans I’d been wearing when I’d come out this morning). When I asked Yosano about going to work this morning, she just shushed me and shoved another pair of pants at me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t keep up any more, Yosano hooked her arm around mine and redirected me from the train station, where I’d been trying to sneak off, to the front of a fancy-looking hair salon “for the appointment.”

As I stood in the entryway, listing a little from exhaustion, she breezed on through to the back and returned with a young man with bright pink hair at her side. The young man, a friend of “Akiko-san’s,” as he called her, was a stylist at the salon—one of the best in the city, Yosano had proclaimed. He took one look at my choppy ponytail, made the exact face shown in the Edvard Munch’s “The Scream,” and whisked me off towards the back to “fix it.” I wasn’t actually sure I had enough to “fix” but Yosano was right, the man was a genius. I ended up with something similar to a very feminine (and very cute!) boy-cut that blended perfectly with my ruined bangs and ended halfway down my neck.

They even did some light makeup for me as a thank you to Yosano for helping them solve a case a while back. As I reached up and ran my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, I saw the stylist and Yosano exchange an actual high-five from behind me. I had to admit, it felt incredible to see myself looking like this—I had no idea I could be made to look this cute—but now that we were back in the office and people were poking their heads up to look at me, it felt kind of embarrassing.

“Yosano-sensei, you don’t have to shout,” I pleaded, my face growing warm as the clerk girls chattered around me, oohing and ahhing over my new clothes and hair. “Everyone’s still working...!”

“Ugh, talking about work again? You sound like Kunikida-kun,” Yosano said, grimacing. “We gotta make sure you start partnering with some of the other detectives or you’ll turn into a four-eyed workhorse too.”

“H-he’s not that bad...”

“Ohh...?”

Yosano raised an eyebrow, looking a little more closely at my face. She rubbed her chin and I instantly felt my stomach tie itself into a knot. I’d seen that face before, but not on Yosano—this was the same face Dazai liked to make just before he caused trouble. Without warning, Dr. Yosano turned to Kunikida and called out.

“Oi, Kunikida-kun! What do you think? Kyou-chan looks pretty cute like this, right?”

Kunikida looked up. I froze as his gray-green eyes swept over me. It was nothing more than a quick glance up and a single curt nod, but it was still more than enough to make my pulse race. Thankfully, before Yosano could say anything else, Kirako suddenly rushed in.

“Kyou-chan!” she gasped, looking slightly out of breath in her sudden rush forward, “You like bubble tea cafes right?”

Thankful for the distraction, I turned my full attention away from Yosano to her. I hoped Yosano couldn’t see how red my face was getting as she kept trying to direct Kunikida’s attention back to me.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, deliberately trying to ignore Yosano and Kunikida chatting behind me (“You’re sure that’s all?” she teased, poking him upside the head).

“I love cafes! Why do you ask?”

“Perfect! Because if you’re free tomorrow evening, I have a small favor I need to ask of you.”

At once, Kirako’s hands slammed onto my shoulders, with enough force to actually make my knees buckle. Stunned, I stared into her bright green eyes, which suddenly glowed with an intensity strong enough to rival the mid-day sun.

“You see,” she continued casually, her tone contrasting wildly with the manic glint in her eyes, “my old friends from high school invited me to go on a group date. Naomi here is obviously too young—”

“--And not interested!” Naomi called from across the room as Kirako rolled her eyes.

“—And not interested in going. There’s four guys who said they’d come get dinner with us tomorrow but currently only three girls.”

Her grip tightened meaningfully on my shoulders and I had the horrible feeling that perhaps I had been lied to and Kirako was actually a combat member of the Agency. Kirako smiled.

“What do you think? Come with us, Kyou-chan?”

“Uh...” I stammered, my eyes darting about the room as I tried to think of a convincing enough reason to refuse.

“I don’t know...”

Without meaning to, I glanced over at Kunikida’s desk, where the tall, bespectacled detective sat staring thoughtfully at his computer screen, lightly tapping his fingers against his green notebook. He shifted slightly in his chair and for a single, terrifying second, I thought he was going to look up. Heat suddenly flooded into my cheeks and I quickly tore my eyes away before Kunikida could look up—only to look straight into the bright brown eyes of the bandaged detective sitting across from him.

Dazai’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise, then flashed in knowing amusement and I felt every last hair on the back of my neck rise as Dazai slowly grinned at me. When he reached over and poked Kunikida on the forehead, one horrifying thought solidified in my head:

He knows.

“Kyou-chan?”

The sound of Kirako’s voice brought me back and I forced myself to look at her face and not at the detectives behind her, who were now arguing loudly about something I really didn’t want to hear.

“Right. Well, you see—”

“Dazai!! What the hell do you think you’re doing—?!”

“Just trying to cheer you up in the middle of your shift—”

There was a crashing noise and I grimaced, trying and failing to block out the sounds of their fighting as I tried to think of an excuse for why I couldn’t make the group date. I could feel myself getting more and more agitated as the noise level suddenly increased and I stopped trying to talk entirely when Kirako suddenly whirled around and yelled at Dazai and Kunikida in a voice loud enough to make the walls rattle.

“Would you two just SHUT UP!”

Turning her attention back to me, Kirako sighed, rubbing her temple with well-manicured fingers as Dazai and Kunikida abruptly stopped fighting and the room grew quiet at last.

“Now then, where were we? Huh? Kyou-chan, are you okay? Your face is kind of red.”

“YES! I’m totally fine!” I exclaimed.

I clapped my hands over my mouth and groaned as I turned even redder. My voice came out way louder than I’d meant it to and I closed my eyes to block out the stares of everyone within earshot. When I opened my eyes again, I tried as hard as I could to focus on Kirako and only Kirako. I didn’t dare look in the direction of my own desk—if I looked at either Dazai or Kunikida right now, I was finished.

“I mean,” I coughed, my voice sounding strained, even to my own ears, “It’s not a big deal, just... a slight cough. That’s all.”

I hacked out another, more believable cough (I hoped) and averted my eyes when Yosano turned to look at me suspiciously.

“I probably stayed out a little too late yesterday, didn’t drink enough water. You know how it is. I’m not feeling up to an outing right now but maybe next time...?”

I wanted to kick myself. “Next time” meant I’d have to go through this again in the future. Hopefully by then, I would no longer be available to join Kirako on a group date... My eyes once again slid towards Dazai and Kunikida but I was able to force myself to look away before anyone noticed.

“Oh, really?” Kirako sounded disappointed.

She took her hands off my shoulders, leaving the fabric of my jacket slightly wrinkled and sweaty from her grip.

“That’s okay, I understand,” she said, deflating noticeably. “You helped close a pretty tough case just yesterday, of course you’re tired...”

“I-I’m really sorry,” I mumbled and I meant it.

I could feel alternating waves of guilt and relief washing over me as she left for her station and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that I took the report she’d finished for me and left for the Military Police outpost to drop it off. She was gone by the time I returned to the clerk room and as I trudged back into the main office, I made a mental note to find a way to make it up to her somehow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Dazai at his desk, waving his bandaged arms and silently mouthing my name.

“I want to talk to you!” he seemed to be saying and at once, I turned around and ignored him.

I didn’t know what Dazai wanted with me, waving like that, but I did know that I wanted no part of it. Nothing good ever came from indulging that man.

I glanced up at the clock, saw that there was still one hour left in the work day, and promptly busied myself by playing runner and taking care of small, minor errands all around the office. I was determined to spend this last hour avoiding Dazai and the desk area he shared with the others and whenever it seemed I was running out of things to do, I fell back on asking Yosano if she needed help with anything, anything at all. Luckily, the good doctor took my behavior as gratitude for taking me out this morning (it honestly was) and I succeeded in staying away from my old desk area for the rest of the day.

And good thing too. The moment I’d come back from the shopping trip, Dazai had appeared to lose all interest in work, choosing to spend the rest of his time at the Agency either outright staring at me or doing his best to try to get my attention. I could feel his eyes on me wherever I went and if I so much as turned my head in his general direction, he would start waving again or smile as brightly (and flirtatiously) as possible from across the room. He only stopped when Kunikida threatened to drag him into the server room to give him another beating if he didn’t get back to work.

That final hour seemed to stretch for the duration of an entire day but when it finally ended, I found myself breathing an enormous sigh of relief. I had been assigned a desk at last and, unfortunately, it was right where Dazai’s and Kunikida’s desks were. I wanted to wait until everyone had left before I started moving my stuff in so I bid goodbye to the staff one by one as they slowly filed out.

I tried to keep my smile as normal as possible when I saw Kunikida out the door but there was nothing I could do to stop the blood from rushing to my face when he said goodbye back. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

Breathing yet another sigh of relief, I stood in the middle of the empty office and went to the locker room to retrieve the things I’d stored. But just when I thought I was safe, I stepped back into the main room with my one large paper bag in hand to see Dazai, standing in the doorway to the other hall, with his arms crossed and a playful grin playing about his lips.

I realized I had not said goodbye to him earlier and now we were the only two people left in the building. Inwardly, I swore.

“So,” he said, his grin widening. “Kunikida-kun, huh?”

I ignored him and went to my desk, opening drawers and putting my things away as originally planned.

“What about him?”

I heard footsteps approaching as Dazai left the doorway and walked towards me.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” he said, plopping down backwards in Kunikida’s chair. Scooting forward until he was right next to me, he propped his bandaged arm up on his partner’s desk and rested his chin in his hand.

“Could it be? You don’t want to go on that group date with Haruno-san because of what Kunikiiiida-kun might think?”

“It’s getting late, Dazai-san,” I said politely, slamming my bag on my desk as I drew myself up to my full height and glared down at him. “Shouldn’t you be going home now?”

“C’mon, Kyou-chan. We’re friends aren’t we? You can tell me the truth. If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun, I could help you get his attention.”

I scowled.

“No thanks. And why are you calling me by my first name again? I thought we agreed to avoid giving people the wrong idea?”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“But there’s no one around to get the wrong idea.”

And to demonstrate, he waved one bandaged arm around the empty room.

“See?” he asked, kicking off on one foot and spinning around in Kunikida’s black pleather chair like a top, one end of the many bandages wrapped around his forearm coming loose and flying beside him like a dingy party streamer made of linen.

“It’s just you and me. So there’s nothing we need to avoid. No reason to be keeping secrets from anyone. Right?”

He stopped swiveling and the linen bandage floated to a stop with him. Leaning forward, Dazai placed his hands on the back of the chair and tucked his chin on top of his long fingers, so that he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. He smiled, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling merrily.

“Kyou-chan?”

I bit my lip.

God damn Dazai. He actually looks pretty cute when he does that...

He scooted closer and internally, I shook myself.

No. He’s doing this on purpose. The last time he looked at me like that, he asked me to die with him and I...

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

No. Don’t think about that.

Yosano had cut my hair and changed my clothes. The old Kyou—the ghoul in the window that was my old reflection was gone and she would stay gone so long as I never thought about her again. If I could just become strong and become a full member of the Agency, I could bury her and leave her and all my old problems behind with her.

“Well? What do you say?” Dazai asked.

He slowly reached for my hand.

“You can call me ‘Osamu...’”

“No!!”

I pushed him back and my bag fell off the table with a loud crash. All my sketchbooks and art supplies scattered across the floor and I cursed as I dropped down to my knees to pick them back up.

“I’m not calling you that,” I gasped as I struggled to chase after a rolling piece of charcoal that was rolling under a desk several paces away. I threw myself on the floor and shoved my hand under the desk, dust and candy wrappers scattering around me as I reached for the short, blackened cylinder.

“We’re coworkers, Dazai-san and I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be...”

Grasping the piece of charcoal in my hand at last, I glanced back to see Dazai looking at me with a very cheerful look on his face. It took me a second too long to realize my butt was in the air and he was definitely staring at it.

I flushed.

“You creep!!”

I clambered to my feet and stormed over.

“If you think I’m ever letting you call me ‘Kyou’ after that,” I snapped, shoving my belongings back into my bag as fast as I was able. “You’ve got another thing coming!”

Dazai shrugged, his coat making an oddly heavy rustling sound as he moved his shoulders.

“Alright, Kusunoki-kun. Alright. But before you go, could you answer one question for me...?”

Mirroring me, Dazai got to his feet. Drawing himself up to his full height, so that I was forced to look up at him, he grinned. There was a dark look in his eye and a week ago, I might’ve backed down, but at the moment, the only thing I could feel was the white-hot burn of humiliation and rage. I stood my ground, my pulse pounding in my ears, as Dazai’s half-bandaged hand slid towards me on my own desk, that Cheshire grin stretched across his lips coming closer with every passing second.

“Tell me,” he whispered, stopping only when his nose was a couple centimeters from mine, “How much would you hate being called ‘Kyou-chan’... if your name was coming out of Kunikiiiida-kun’s mouth?”

At the thought of the tall, blonde detective calling me in the same low, sultry voice that Dazai had just used, heat exploded in my face. The bandaged brunette saw the blood rushing to my cheeks; his teasing grin widened and I turned away.

“Quit making this about Kunikida-san!” I snapped, pushing him away. “The reason I said no to Kirako-san has nothing to do with him.”

“Really?” Dazai mused, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched me stomp towards the door.

“So, does that mean I still have a chance?”

I stopped.

I turned and gave him an exasperated look.

“Depends.”

I had never sounded so sarcastic in my life.

“You still dead set on that double-suicide?”

“Well yes,” he answered, blinking innocently at me when I rolled my eyes and continued heading for the door. “but I already said I’d wait for you, didn’t I?”

I scoffed.

“I thought I told you I have no interest in dying, Dazai-san.”

I could actually hear my own frustration in the depths of my sigh.

“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow...”

“Oh, wait. Kyou—I mean, Kusunoki-kun. I have something for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Even if it’s something that tells you everything you’d like to know about Kunikida-kun’s ideal woman?”

I froze.

There was an odd flapping sound, like pages being turned and I spun around to see Dazai pulling Kunikida’s lightly-bound olive-green notebook out of his trench coat. He held it up before me so that I could see the cover, the word “Ideal” unmistakably printed on its slightly weathered surface.

“It starts on page fifty-three.”

My bag slipped off my shoulder.

“Where did you get that?”

Dazai shrugged.

“I may have pick-pocketed him when he was trying to strangle me earlier.”

I took a step forward.

“Give that back.”

“Back?”

He raised an eyebrow and his grin turned into a smirk.

“But it’s not yours to take back either, Kusunoki-kun.”

“Hand it over, Dazai-san.”

I lunged for it but he was too fast for me. Dazai whipped the notebook high into the air and I immediately collided with his chest, knocking us both onto Kunikida’s desk. When I tried jumping for it again, my face met with Dazai’s hand.

“Seriously?” I gasped, trying to get around his defenses. “Are you five?”

“Sticks and stones, Kusunoki-kun,” Dazai sang, clearly enjoying his little game of keep-away.

“Give—it—to—me—!” I panted, trying to push myself forward, past a tangle of bandaged limbs and torso and reaching out for that little green notebook.

But just as I got within reach, Dazai’s half-bandaged hand wrapped around my wrist and, using that as leverage, he yanked me down on top of him.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Dazai whispered, his dark eyes glittering mischievously.

I felt my blood boil.

“Can you actually stop,” I snapped, pushing myself back up, “being a pervert for just one—”

I was too focused on getting the notebook back. I hadn’t even heard the sound of feet running down the hallway until the door to the office flew open and hit the wall with a dry-wall cracking BANG.

“DAZAI!!” a familiar male voice screamed.

I let out a surprised yelp and turned towards the door. There, standing in the doorway and looking angrier than ever, was Kunikida. His sharp green-gray eyes swept over the scene and when his gaze fell upon me and Dazai, his eyes narrowed. I looked back at the absolutely delighted expression on Dazai’s face and my soul almost left my body.

In my futile attempts to reach Kunikida’s notebook, I had literally climbed on top of Dazai and we were now both on top of Kunikida’s desk. One of my hands was still outstretched and reaching for the little green notebook while Dazai’s free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the notebook, was still clamped firmly around my wrist. Worst of all, my knee-length skirt had been hiked all the way up to my thigh in the struggle and my chest was firmly pushed up against Dazai’s. As Kunikida’s eyebrows slowly lifted up, the ribbon around my neck came untied.

I pushed Dazai away and hastily climbed off the desk, making the bandaged detective smack his head against a thick binder and drop the notebook. Spotting my chance, I snatched the fallen notebook off the ground and ran towards Kunikida.

“K-Kunikida-san...!” I stammered, pushing the notebook into his waiting hands. “It’s not what you think...! Dazai—”

“Oh! Kunikida-kun!” Dazai exclaimed, waving a little. “Good timing. You dropped your notebook—”

“Dazai,” Kunikida growled, his shoulders tensing visibly.

I thought I saw a vein pulsing in his temple.

“Not only did you steal my notebook, you also thought you’d drag Kusunoki into this? This is too much, even for you.”

Bloodlust radiated off his entire frame. Not wanting to stick around for the aftermath, I dropped into a quick bow, blurted out a hasty goodbye to the two of them and ran for the door with my bag in my arms. I reached the hallway just in time as a cacophony of crashing noises and Dazai yelling in pain echoed down the corridor. Re-tying the ribbon around my neck, I set off for the elevator without so much as a backwards glance.

He got me. He got me good.

Not only did Dazai figure out that I was starting to develop a crush on Kunikida from just one glance, he’d also managed to make it look like we were doing something inappropriate after hours—and on top of Kunikida’s desk, no less! Was he actively trying to ruin the little good standing I had with Kunikida for fun? Did he want me to join him in that double suicide so bad? Or was he really just hoping that either Kunikida or I would get fed up enough to grant his death wish by beating him to a pulp?

I sighed and pushed the button for the elevator door, putting my earbuds in so I could drown out the sound of Kunikida’s and Dazai’s shouts with something a little more cheerful...

A woman’s voice came on over the earbuds and as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music, I began to make out the lyrics.

Huh. What a coincidence. She was singing about what she wanted in a lover...

“Page fifty-three, huh?” I mumbled, my thoughts drifting back to the notebook.

I hated to admit it but I was curious. What was Kunikida’s ideal woman? And... how far off the mark was I? If Kunikida had arrived just a little later, I might’ve been able to take that notebook from Dazai. Then I could’ve snapped a picture of page fifty-three to study later...

I shook my head to clear the thought away.

No. Bad idea.

That was just Dazai getting to me again. I was not like him and I would not sink to his level. I reached for my cell phone to turn up the music but as soon as I had it in my hands, it vibrated suddenly to indicate I’d gotten a text message.

I squinted at it.

“Who...? Oh.”

It had to be from Dazai—he was the one coworker whose number I refused to add to my address book. I was about to delete it when I realized it came with an image attachment. Wondering if it was something important, I opened it.

“You’re welcome?” I read aloud, scrolling down.

My eyes widened.

Below the message was a very clear set of photos, each showing a different page from a small notebook. If the neat penmanship wasn’t already a dead giveaway, the list of fifty-eight “ideal” traits and detailed plans for dating and marriage requirements definitely was (Kunikida was planning to get married within five to six years??). It was all the information a girl could want and more.

My mind raced.

When had Dazai taken these pictures? How?! Wasn’t Kunikida destroying him right now?

Peering down the darkened hallway, which had suddenly gone quiet, I shot back a quick text, just as the elevator arrived at the fourth floor and I walked through the doors.

“How did you get this?” I wrote back feverishly, “And why are you sending it to me?”

Was that maniac going to use this to frame me or blackmail me? Or worse...? Wait. What even was worse?

The reply was prompt.

“Don’t worry about the details. Let’s just say I’m hoping we can go from being coworkers to friends very soon. ;)”

Something fell over in the hall and I looked up just before the elevator doors closed to see a half-bandaged hand poking out the open doorway of the Armed Detective Agency office. Dazai was holding a thumbs up.

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai x oc #kunikida x reader #kunikida x oc #kunikida doppo #dazai #kunikida #doppo kunikida #bungo stray dogs

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bleufrost · 5 years

Note

Hello! Could you do a George x reader where the reader has a crush on him and George finds out and they have their first kiss? Thanks in advance!

George Weasley x reader

a/n: my first george request! I love him so much and I hope this is what you wanted 💛

warnings: a little angst, fluff!

masterlist

From the moment you stepped foot into the wildly colorful joke shop, you were hooked. The sweets, pranks, and interesting snack boxes that caught the eye of every patron went completely unnoticed in stark comparison to the redhead who had greeted you. He had rolled over on the top of a ladder, extending a hand out in warm welcome as he flashed a dazzlingly goofy grin at you.

George Weasley was his name, and pranking people was apparently the game he liked to play. After that day, you returned almost constantly. You became a regular in the shop, meeting his twin brother, Fred, and slowly falling into step as their newest assistant and lab rat.

Initially you felt some form of attraction to George. He was warm and kind in a way that wasn't expected after all that had occurred just a few years before. Not everyone can escape a war with their ability to laugh still intact, so the cheery exterior of the twins' was a breath of fresh air in a world full of smoke.

It wasn't until the two of you had spent a day alone together that you realized his smile had become your entire world. After that day, everything changed.

All that being said, today you were in a panic. Fred had called you saying something serious had happened to George and he needed to speak to you immediately. The fact that he hadn’t spoken to you himself and told you made you worry that something bad must have happened. Pulling on your jumper, some leggings, and the pair of sneakers you left by the door, you darted from your apartment and made your way down the cobblestone streets to get to the alley that would lead you to their shop.

You saw the problem immediately. Opening the door, the smell of caramel and chocolate invaded your senses and you were in shock at the mountain of wrappers that appeared to flood from the door and make their way under your feet. On the counter was none other than George himself, a handful of chocolate in one hand and a caramel apple in the other. It was an odd sight considering he had never cared for caramel apples, but the smell was welcome since the combination was your absolute favorite pair of sweets.

His eyes lit up the second he saw you, and he jumped off the counter greeting you in the biggest hug you had ever received. Him hugging you wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, but the way in which he placed his head upon yours and kissed it gently gave you reason to pause. When he pulled away, or rather you did because he didn’t seem to be moving any time soon, he had the sweetest puppy dog look upon his face. He almost looked in love, but certainly that couldn’t be.

“Hey loverboy, leave the poor girl alone before you scare her off!” Fred’s voice rang through the shop; which you just now noticed was completely void of any other people. More importantly than that though, why had he just called George loverboy?

“I’m not scaring her, I’m just admiring the view. She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” You fought the blush that rose to your cheeks, desperately trying not to give away the fact that this truly was a dream come true in more ways than one for you. Something was off though, George was never one to hide his affection, but outright saying these things out of nowhere was far from normal for the boy.

Looking from Fred to George and back again, you decided to speak directly to the twin who was acting the most common. “Fred, is something going on?” When George noticed your attention distracted from him, he grabbed your hands in his, instantly pulling you back to the warm sensation of his large palms wrapping around your smaller ones protectively. “Nothing’s wrong, love. I’m just in awe of you. It’s a beautiful thing being in love, isn’t it?”

That weirded you out for sure.

“Fred?” The panic in your voice rose and Fred walked over to pull you away from his brother. “Alright so it’s a long story, but let’s make it quick. We were testing out some new product and good old Georgie here decided to not read the bloody labels.” Fred was rolling his eyes and the annoyance was clear upon his face, but you didn’t have time for him to be annoyed because you desperately needed an explanation. “Fred, what happened?”

“Right! He ate like four amortentia chocolates from that batch you helped us make and, well I suppose you could kind of guess the rest.” That made your heart drop. Of course he wasn’t actually in love with you, it was crazy to even think that he would ever see you as anything more than a friend, at most an extension to their pranking duo. You had to get out of there immediately or you knew the stinging from behind your eyes would soon spill over in the familiar liquid crystals that signified your pain.

“Just baby him for a bit, it’ll wear off in no time if you don’t let him feed into the fantasy of us being together for too long.” You wrote down some basic instructions and told Fred to call you if anything escalated, then made your way out the door. Walking out onto the cobblestone, you finally let yourself breathe and with that breath came the tears. You could have stayed and fed into the dream for a little longer. You could have let him love you and cherished that memory, however brief it may be. No, that wouldn’t have been right to force your best friend into a situation that you knew would only serve as a mark of humiliation on his life. That would have been taking advantage of him and no matter how much you wanted to have him hold you and tell you how much he cared for you, you knew it wouldn’t have been genuine. It was wrong to feed into the fantasy and you knew that it would hurt you down the road, but even the brief interaction that you had with him upon entering their shop was enough to break you down. It wasn’t real. He didn’t love you.

The next day came and went without any word from Fred or George. After three days you started to worry. After a week, you were upset. Part of you wanted to go visit them and see what exactly was up, but you knew that you were far too afraid that he would reject you to do that. It wasn’t until a week later that you heard from George.

You had been sitting on your sofa reading when a soft knock sounded from your apartment’s front door. Bookmarking your place, you got up to answer it without even really thinking to check who it was. He stood there, caramel apple in hand and shy smile upon his face as he waited for you to hopefully let him in.

“Long time no see, George.” He looked down nervously before chuckling. “Glad to see a week apart didn’t change your ability to tell me from Fred.” That had you smiling slightly. It had taken some time for you to be able to tell one twin from the other when you first met them. Eventually you had gotten the hang of it and knew without them even speaking who was who, and you hadn’t gotten it wrong since.

“Why don’t you come on in.” Moving to the side, you let him enter and shut the door. When you turned around you found him standing awkwardly in the living room. Grabbing his arms you led him to a seated position next you on the couch and folded your legs under yourself to look at him. “There something you want to tell me?”

George breathed in a shaky breath, tossing the foil covered apple back and forth between his hands before holding it out to you. “I’m sorry I made things so bloody awkward between us. I wanted to come speak to you sooner, but quite honestly I didn’t know how to apologize without discrediting everything I said that day.” As you took the apple in your hands and thought over his words, your sadness turned into confusion.

“Georgie, what do you mean by that?” He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous laugh. “Well, I’ve got to be honest with you, only a small part of what I said was because of the chocolate. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great batch you made, but I guess it doesn’t work as well when you’re already sort of in love with the person you got it from.”

Your eyes began to water as you realized George, your best friend and the man you’ve had a crush on for nearly as long as you’ve truly known him, was confessing his own feelings for you. His hand came up to brush your tears away and the sadness on his own face confused you to no end.

“I’m so sorry. If you don’t feel the same I completely understand and I swear this doesn’t have to change anything between us.” You laughed and brought your hands up to hold his against your cheeks. “George, I feel exactly the same way. I was just too afraid to say anything about it.” He grinned widely, laughing which in turn made you laugh as well. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

You responded by leaning in closer to him and slowly pressing your lips against his. He tasted of chocolate and caramel, but he made you far happier than any sweets could ever dream.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

a/n: I really hope you guys liked this! any feedback is super appreciated and I love you all so much, thank you for reading <3

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fred and george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader fluff #oliver phelps #oliver phelps x reader #bleufrost.fic

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pazvizslaplasmathrower · 4 years

Text

Father of Hopes and Dream - Chapter 12

Read here or on AO3

Chapter 11: Indirect Tension

Series Summary: Your young master is gone, just at the birth of your bond, he has left you for many years, leaving you to survive the galaxy alone. After sustaining an injury from a drunken storm trooper, someone faces the decision to either leave or help you in your moment of need.

Chapter Summary: Your wings continue to grow as you wait for Paz to return, there is an uneasy feeling, palpable withing the Force.

Word Count: 1625

Your mind told you to get up already and go about your new routine, but your body had another idea, leaving you curled up inside your bed, trying to steel your will. It had been a good while since the Mandalorian Paz Vizsla had left the ship, leaving you by your lonesome. He had left you with a simple mission: to remember where you had last seen your master. If only it was as easy as it sounded! Meditating could provide some leads, but you had already exhausted that option before you met Paz.

Groaning, you slipped out of bed, dragging yourself to the refresher, rubbing your eyes. Slowly, you could feel your energy rising as you brushed your teeth, and did you best to change the bandage over your healing wound. After taking off your clothes, you turned away from the mirror, only to look back over your own shoulder.

“Kriffing hell...”

The lumps on your back had grown significantly overnight, as they were presently taking proper shape as little appendages. Figuring out what muscles to flex was odd, for a few minutes you stood awkwardly until the small, featherless wings moved just slightly. At this rate, they would be developed in no time. Of course, you worried what you were going to tell Paz Vizsla, but the question of your plumage was too great.

Under the warm water of the shower, thoughts of colored feathers flitted through your mind. Any color was fine, you supposed. But what if after they grew in, you hated them? Dye was an option, but then vanity would be on full display should anyone notice. Master had always condemned such transgressions, even if if it was a trivial one. Even when you spent too much time singing the ballads of old, your master would reprimand you for choosing ones that focused on adventure and greatness. Surely he would disapprove of frivolous thoughts such as the color of your plumage. Well, hopefully it was nothing too flashy, or else it would make survival all the more difficult. Master had not told you the story of the Feathered Boy for no reason. Though you were certain he had crafted it only for you, the message still resonated with you.

Once out of the shower, you shook the excess water from your hair, an old habit. Desiring to at least make an effort, you dwelled on past events, whilst scrubbing the dirt from your new clothes. You gripped the hard brush with a subtle fury, pushing your mind back as far as you could, past the flashes of light, past the overwhelming darkness and into your last few moments together. Just the weight of impossible rain, dipping into your eyes, almost completely blinding you. That same water saturated your robes, making swift movement sloppy and sluggish. From somewhere you could hear your Master's bellows, they were desperate but for what you had been unsure. Your feet left deep imprints, the ground lightly threatening to swallow you whole, every so often you found yourself needing to spit out rainwater. The scrubbing became more vigorous.

“MASTER!” You screamed, turning about in circles, until you stepped on something hard.

Reaching down, your gloved hand closed around a thin metal pole, part of the tent you had pitched the previous night.

Someone stepped far too aggressively.

Spinning around, you activated your sabre, quickly dodging a flurry of attacks, keeping your form pristine. If only your opponent had let up just a bit, you would have been able to make some out some identifying feature. The more one knows of their enemy, the easier it the melee shall. But they had known you first. Each of your thrusts were deflected with ease, before long you realized the enemy had you nearly pressed against a tree. There was no way you could develop a new offensive strategy, so burying your pride, you swiftly leapt up, and scrambled up the tree as far as you could, up to the very top where only you could perch and anyone else would surely fall to their death. The trunk while thick and sturdy, its top was thin and trembling. Bringing one arm up to your forehead, it kept a good deal of the incessant rain from obscuring your view. Gazing down below, you could make out a handful of figures, moving about wildly, but with a trained structure. The five had beset your master, closing the space rapidly. You took a few hasty breaths, then leapt down from different branches making your way down, finally landing at your master's side. His presence was immediately calming, his place within the Force was simply tranquil despite your current situation.

“Master!” You gasped, sputtering rain water. “What's the plan?”

The man tensed, instead of answering he called for you to duck before sending one bastard flying up into the air. Then...Then...A sudden throbbing sensation radiating from your head, making everything spin rapidly. Flashes of colored light was all you could focus on as you stumbled over your own legs, slurring your hurried speech. Sharp cries and thundering bellows assaulted your ears, you could feel bodies against your own, hear the shuffling of boots and wet mud on your cheek. And all very suddenly, everything ceased. The world became still, absolutely still.

It had been over an hour and your clothes, after being roughly washed, were now dry. With your tunic fitted properly, you glanced about the storage room of the ship, wondering what to do with the rest of your time. The Mandalorian had apparently taken the data pad with him, as you had searched up and down for it, looking in every conceivable hiding spot. However, you had failed to look into the numerous crates still littered about. You started to move down to open the first holding crate you could get your hands on, only to have your tunic pull uncomfortably taut in the back.

“Kark!” You growled, quickly pulling the item off.

Frustrated, you fished about the ship, finding a rather jagged vibroblade, the actual blade was chipped and its special function was truthfully gone. It would have to do. Judging how large your wings would be was difficult but you managed to make two reasonable slits in the back of your tunic, plenty big so you would get some more use out of the clothing. When you were comfortably back in, the realization struck: now your growing wings were clearly noticeable. Stomping off down the hallway, you made your way back into the small supply room, trying to make sense of the broken parts. There were dust covered spools of wire, sackcloth, ship parts crafted from durasteel, Perhaps a cape would do, it might flare out a fair amount, but it was an easy fix. Though, should a gust of wind or battle come your way, the cape could be easily blown or stripped away.

Grabbing a bag of bolts, you poured them all out, keeping the thick cloth along with some rope and wire. You set the items on the floor of the storage room, your room, and set to work, fiddling around with the pieces, humming contentedly to yourself. Occasionally, you would glance towards the entry way, perked your ears to listen for those heavy footsteps, for Paz Vizsla to return. One half of you could hardly wait to have him back, and the other hoped he would be out long enough for you to cover up.

Concluding the ballad of Nomi Sunrider, you relished the sensation of the last note resonating through your being. Perhaps if your master had instructed you in offensive and defensive arts instead of meditating and being a song smith... You failed to finish the though. Instead another sensation captured your attention, making your growing wings flare out on instinct.

Another presence in the Force was becoming stronger, more prominent to you, but how hadn't you noticed it before. Pointing your nose up, you sniffed the air, gathering a million scents all at once, too many to distinguish for a young one. The presence was certainly not malevolent, more...curious than anything else, like it was seeking something out which was misplaced. Disregarding it, you tried to maintain focus on your handiwork, piercing, weaving, cutting and sealing until you had yourself a rather crude backpack. Slowly, you fit your wings in the hole you had put in the back, then slipping your arms through both straps. A perfect hiding place with room to spare for at least a week. With the bag snugly against your back, you checked your comm for a moment, wishing it would make some noise. When it failed to do so, your face fell.

“Aw, kark...”

Bored and hungry all that was left to so was to eat something and wait. Fishing some dried meat from the parcel Paz had left, you decided to wander about your new home, starting with the cockpit. It was standard, meaning far too many switches, buttons and knobs for you to even begin to make sense of. Chewing on large morsel, you let yourself ease into the pilot's chair, finding it surprisingly comfortable, with a nice view of the port and the planet's people going about their lives. Most of those individuals possessing their own unique spirits, but nothing resounding...

And then you locked eyes. Your own holding a cerulean gaze. This was that presence. Overcome with the need to hide, you fell from the seat, scrambling to the supply closet, locking the door and hastily shoving a few crates in front as a blockade. Hands frisking the pouches on your belt, you realized, you had dropped your comm. That foreign fear illicited a silent plea for help.

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