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weirdochick56 · 3 years

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Sin- Steve Rogers AU Chapter Three

Biker!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, set in a universe where Pietro isn’t Wanda’s twin, but her older brother!!!

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots/characters mentioned.

Word Count: 3, 379 Words

Summary: Y/n finally comes face to face with Biker King and it’s nothing like she imagined. And when she least expects it, the very person she came looking for will find her and all the emotions she has been holding in will come pouring out in unexpected ways.

Read Chapter Two Here!!

Under different circumstances, maybe you would’ve stayed there, in his hold a little while longer. It wasn’t like it was an unpleasant feeling...not in the least.

His hot hands and cool rings contrasted eachother deliciously on your skin and it had actually taken you a while to pull yourself out of your dazed trance, between getting the air knocked out of you and now....

“Oh.”

You didn’t mean to yelp the way you did when your gaze met those of the blonde Adonis that stood before you, but you couldn’t help it. Those eyes...if you had thought they were pretty before, now you could say with absolute certainty that they were utterly showstopping.

Salacious, intense, powerful...you’d never wanted to drown in a person’s gaze more.

He had the kind of eyes you don’t just get lost in, but entirely lose yourself to. The kind that if you stare into too long, you might be swallowed like quicksand. And yet, even knowing this, you couldn’t pull yourself away and had found yourself for the second time in only a short span of time, unable to breathe correctly.

His gaze was steady on yours as well, though unlike you he wasn’t shaken in the least. He was all cool and collected, his eyes searching yours out shamelessly.

And so you stay like that for a few moments, his big hands pressed onto your mostly bare back and your hands gripping his forearms tightly, steadying- anchoring yourself. Though nothing about the piercing power of that gaze was anchoring or even real to you.

Gradually, your heart begins picking up an erratic pace which only spikes when his fingers begin tracing softly over your skin.

The shivers this sends down your spine feels like a slap to the face and you find yourself almost aggressively pushing yourself away from him. He hesitates a bit, but it’s only a split second before his hands are unclasped and off your skin.

Breaking away seems to break the trance-like state you were in and instantly, the embarassment sets in, your cheeks heating up immediately. You bow your head refelctively.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out of pure shame. Not because of him, but because of yourself.

Why were you acting like this?

I mean, you weren’t normally one to fall for a pretty face because you had grown up around rich pretty boys your whole life.

But he...

You take a cautious peek at him again and instantly regret doing so when you realize the fact that his eyes had seemingly never left you and were now practically glowing with amusement as he watched you closely.

Your breath hitches and you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours. His eyes momentarily flick down to the action but they quickly return back up to your gaze.

Your eyes are everywhere at once, your breathing labored. ‘He’s too close’, you think to yourself amidst the chaos in your brain.

And he’s too goddam perfect.

He’s all sharp jaw, high cheekbones, silky, messy blonde hair, pink plump lips and piercing blue eyes...every slope and curve and straight edge of his face was all too perfectly harmonious with one another. To say you were in complete awe at the Adonis before you would be an understatement.

You couldn’t breathe.

His plump lips are so pink and full and they’re only highlighted more by his dark neatly kept beard, you have to blink several times to make sure you’re not imagining them. How can a man have such pretty lips?

You had never seen someone this alluring in your life, he wasn’t at all like the pretty rich boys of your town.

He had a naturally intimidating aura to him, in that rough-around-the-edges badass biker way that you shouldn’t be finding this damn attractive.

And then you take a moment to take in his full form. You were right; he was easily a whole foot taller than you, sporting more tattoos than you could count on his visible skin- that was, his collarbone and hands, some of the ones up his arm poking out when he moved.

Unlike most people here who wore kuttes, he was wearing a thick leather jacket with the word, ‘President’ patched in bold black and white on it, but you knew he had his arms fully tatted because you’d seen it that day at the store.

He also wore black worn jeans that clung sexily on his slim hips, chains hanging over the jean hoops and clanging everytime he moved. He clearly loved his black combat boots because it was visibly obvious he used them a whole lot.

His sexy mouth lifts at the corner into an even sexier smirk and you all but come undone when he speaks again. “It’s okay, angel.”

‘Doll’, ‘angel’...

Your brow furrows and before you know what you’re doing...

“Are you in the habit of giving girls you’ve never met pet names, sir?” You blurt without thinking.

The unintentionally sassy words fly out of your mouth before your brain can even catch up, but when it does, your eyes instantly widen and your hand flies to your mouth, clasping over it in complete horror.

You want to die when the excessive attitude in your words sinks in and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how much bigger and intimidating this man was compared to you.

He could snap you, and most grown men, in half without a second thought.

You open your mouth to apologize profusely thinking you’ve offended this (most likely) dangerous outlaw, but you freeze once you see his expression.

He doesn’t seem angry at all, in fact, he’s...laughing? No, it’s not a full-on laugh like the one you’d seen in that parking lot. It’s more airy, more casual.

He was chuckling. At you.

He speaks again, this time amusedly. “Nah, only the pretty ones.”

You’re caught off-guard by the suave of his words and you find yourself profusely blushing once more. You have no idea how to respond to him so instead, you just shake your head, desperate to escape this increasingly flustering situation.

“Okay. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” you offer him a forced polite smile and go to side-step him.

You barely make it two steps before his hand is flying out, gripping your wrist firmly and tugging you backwards. A little gasp flies out of your mouth at the suddeness of the movement and before you understand what’s happening, you find yourself pressed tightly against a wall, shrouded in darkness.

You turn your wide eyes onto Biker King, whose thick arms are now pressed beside each side of your head, caging you in entirely. His long torso is leaning down slightly, so his eyes are directly with in your line of sight.

His scent comes onto you like an avalanche. He smells strongly of leather, cologne, shaving cream, something woodsy yet manly and strangely enough, clean laundry.

It was unlike any scent you’d ever smelt on a man, but somehow it fit him perfectly and you found yourself inhaling deeper than usual, your heart racing at his sudden proximity.

He’s so close, your chests are only an inch or two away and he’s staring straight into your soul, cornering you like a predator would a helpless prey.

“Uh...” you can only mumble awakwardly, still kind of dazed and gaping up at him in utter shock, you can barely hear yourself over the loud pounding of your erratic heart.

Up close, he’s more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined a person to be and his piercing gaze was honestly dizzying you.

“Why are you here, doll?”

His sudden question jerks you painfully back into reality and you press your lips together, your brows pinching up instantly at his words. The question is so blunt, so sudden, you can only blink furiously up at him.

“I- what?” You breathe shakily, suddenly unable to function at all.

He tilts his head down at you, raising a brow and speaking awfully matter-of-factly. “Well you’re that pretty little thing from that shit-hole parking lot, aren’t you?”

At first you can only blink stupidly at him, not expecting him to recognize you but then it suddenly dawns on you...if he recognized you then-

You gasp loudly, cheeks more fiery than ever.

A knowing smirk grows on his face. “Hey, for what it’s worth, angel, it was a pretty catchy ringtone.”

You bite your lip in order to supress any small sound threating to spill over out of your lips.

His eyes darken when they fall onto your meek movement and he tightens his hold in the wall, inhaling sharply. “Damn...”

Your blush darkens and your stomach clenches at his small, heated mumble that leaves those pretty lips.

Maybe it was the smug little smirk on his beautiful face that bothered you so much. Or maybe it was the way his eyes pierced through you like you were see-through, but either way, you felt trapped.

Like he was a lion and you were some small, distressed powerless prey, unable to escape that watchful gaze.

“I have to go...” you breathe curtly, staring at his mouth from under your lashes as his pink tongue pokes out, sweeping lightly over his lips.

He chuckles sexily. “Oh, nu-uh, doll. You haven’t answered my damn question yet. What’s a girl like you doing here?”

“A girl like me?” You frown.

He laughs, looking away for a second before turning his magnetic eyes back onto you, somehow more intensely than before.

“You and I both know you don’t belong on this side of town, angel,” he whispers meaningfully, staring at your mouth fixedly.

“I-I don’t even know you,” is all you can manage in a shaky voice, feeling like an invisible force is pushing at your chest.

His eyes lazily drag up to your own and he hums thoughtfully. “You don’t have to. You just have to tell me what you want with this place.”

You find yourself reeling back indignantly at his demanding tone despite your nervousness. Just who did this stranger think he was?

“I don’t have to tell you jack shit,” you snap. “Now let me go, please.”

If he’s shocked by your little outburst, he doesn’t show it, instead he laughs lowly, the sound somehow like pebbles scraping against gravel and also like what silk felt on your skin or the way honey squeezes out of a bottle.

The sound was so sexy- a perfect balance of masculine and airy- that it felt like a carress on your skin.

“Oh, you’re definitely not from around here, little spit fire.”

You want to ask him what he means, but before you can, a voice cuts in from behind you both.

“Prez.”

The both of you freeze, but perhaps for entirely different reasons. Biker King looks mildly annoyed at the interruption, and you...

Well that voice sounded freakishly like-

Biker King releases a big breath, smoothly pushing off the wall and spinning around to look at the voice, leaving you to finally be able to release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in.

You’re still safely hidden behind the much larger frame of Biker King, but you can easily make out about three pairs of manly feet from between his lean, jean-clad legs.

“Sorry, Prez,” the same voice quickly pushes out, but he sounds more panicked than apologetic. “I know you’re busy but...” he pauses, and for some reason you know it’s because of you.

‘Prez’? As in “president”? You found yourself wondering silently.

Tentatively, you step out from behind Biker King, head bowed. “Uhm- I was actually just going so..”

You don’t even plan on looking at them before high-tailing it out of there, but a shocked voice stops you.

“Y/n?!”

Your head snaps up instantly.

And when your gazes make contact for the first time in a long time, you can’t help the tears that instantly pool around your eyes, eyes and nose burning furiously as all the overwhelming feelings and thoughts you’d been suppressing for so long come rushing to the surface.

It was an instantaneous reaction because deep down you had felt he was near and a wave of conflict crashes right against you as you stiffen up.

Your mouth feels dry as you blink the threatening hot tears back. You haven’t seen him in a while, but he hasn’t very much changed appereance wise.

Those eyes were still the warmest blue you’ve ever seen, that hair was still kinky and he hadn’t chopped off his frosty tips.

It dawns on you why you’d recgonized that voice and your heart squeezes tightly as you’re fact to face with him...

Your voice is croaky and breathy when you say his name, but you force yourself to.

“Pietro.”

Steve’s POV

I watch with raised brows as Pietro, or ‘Pretty Boy’ as we called him and my angel -Y/n is what Pietro called her- naturally draw closer together, like being pulled together by some kind of fucking magnetic force, and a surge of anger rises within me instantly.

‘So your name is Y/n, huh?’ I can find myself thinking that her name is beautiful, delicate and feminine like her and that it would probably feel good to say on my tongue.

Bucky and Sam each shoot a weird look my way, as if asking ‘what’s up with these two?’ and I give them a short shrug, quickly turning my gaze back onto the stomach-churning scene developing before me.

Fuck, I hated her being so close to another man, it was inexplicable. I had just met the girl but I already knew I wanted her in my bed- it was like an instinct to me.

Pietro is now within reach of her and I can do nothing but clench my fists as he reaches his arms out, with tears in his eyes appareantly not giving a flying fuck that his brothers are watching this unfold and tugs her small body towards him.

What fucks me up more than anything is that she doesn’t fight him in the least.

I mean it’s clear that they know eachother from their dramatic soap opera moment, but it’s the fact that they look so natural doing it -like they’ve done it so much before it’s muscle memory at this point- that makes me want to kill someone...perferably Pietro.

He buries his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply and I can’t say I blame him. In the small amount of time I’d spent close to her, I’d become addicted to her smell. She smelt nothing like the women I’d fucked over the years. They used cheap off-brand shit, that too potent sweet stuff...but her?

She smelled like wild flowers and vanilla, an expensive, soft, but not entirely inconspicuous scent I would fucking drown in if I could for the rest of my miserable life.

As I watched on, helplessly clenching my fists so as to not do something rash, she shakily lifts her petite arms and wraps them around Pietro, hugging him tightly to her.

Oh. I growl under my breath, unable to resist the pang of jealousy that hits me.

Bucky, my vice president, sends a look my way and I’m pretty sure there’s murder on my face, but all he does is smirk amusedly, the fucker.

But then it gets worse, because Pretty Boy’s hands start wandering, rubbing her back tenderly, up and down almost to her nice round ass. Up and down, up and d-

I see red, and before I know what I’m doing, I feel myself lunging forward, ready to rip them apart.

Except...

“Oh shit!” I freeze when I hear Sam voice all our thoughts at what has just happened.

In the time I had stepped forward, Y/n had suddenly broken away from the embrace, brought her small fist back and clocked Pietro right in the jaw.

We all stare like damn idiots at the loud smack sound, and consequent mixture of grunts and yelps that rings out, but none more than me.

Little spitfire packs a damn powerful right hook, even with her size.

I can see even Bucky, whose the most stoic of us all, is unable to do anything but gape at the scene.

Our shocks lasts very little because in the next second, still cradling her injured hand to her chest, she uses her other free hand to smack him in the head, over and over.

“You asshole!” she hissses, whacking him anywhere she can get her small hand. Pietro is crouched over, arms thrown over his head in order to protect himself.

“Y/n stop!” he demands.

But this only seems to anger her more and she’s attacking him with more fury now. “How dare you just up and leave like that? I thought-” she huffs, pained. “I thought you loved me, you dipshit!”

It would seem my little angel has a potty mouth on her and I can’t help but smirk bemusedly to myself despite the fact that anyone here can tell there’s history there.

Sam and Bucky’s shock seems to have worn off as well and they’re now staring, on the verge of laughter.

It was pretty comical I’ll admit, seeing as she was way smaller than him and still whooping his ass. It was actually pretty impressive considering he was one of my guys.

I snap into action once I remember that she’s injured her hand and that Pietro isn’t fighting back because if he did, he could kill her.

“Sam, Bucky,” I snap, pointing at Pietro with my eyes. They don’t hesitate a single second and instantly capture Pretty Boy in their hold, tugging him back.

I reach out and grab Y/n by her waist, easily lifting her up and away.

“Let me go, dammit! Let me go!”

She wiggled aggressively against my hold, still flailing her small limbs about and yelling like a nutjob, but she’s no match against my strength.

I hug her tightly, pressing her back to me so she can relax. “Settle down, angel,” I whisper calmly in her ear, but she keeps resisting, so I hastily add “If you keep wiggling that pretty little ass of yours like that on my cock you’re going to make me do something I’ll regret later. So I highly suggest you stop. Fucking. Moving.”

I suppress the urge to grin when I feel her instantly stiffen beneath my touch. She finally seems to give up and fall limp against my hold.

I mean, I was only half lying to get her to calm down. Actually, I was already half hard.

‘You are one sick fucking bastard, Steve’ I think to myself bemusedly.

“Y/n?! What the hell is going on?!” Another feminie voice calls out from behind us.

Our necks snap instantly towards the direction where it came from and I frown. A pretty redhead comes bounding towards us, or well, me, looking just about ready to kill me and it is then I realize that I’m still carrying Y/n.

“What the fuck are you doing?! Let her go!” She starts to give me hell, but Y/n suddenly sighs.

“It’s okay Wanda,” she mutters. “He was just trying to keep me from killing-”

“Wanda!” Pietro calls out suddenly and the redhead’s eyes widen, much like Y/n’s had when she had first seen him. She instantly turns to Pretty boy and runs over to him, tears in her eyes. She practically jumps on him and holds him tightly to her.

What. The. Hell.

Sam turns to Bucky incredulously as ‘Wanda’ and Pietro hold eachother like they were the other’s life line.

“Dude,” Sam breathes over to Bucky. “Where the hell is Pretty Boy getting all these babes from?”

Bucky shrugs. “No clue.”

“Wanda what are you doing here?” Pietro breaks away from her, ignoring Buck’s and Sam’s whispers.

“Oh Pietro! I thought you were dead!” she sniffles and I’ve had just about enough of this shit show.

“Enough.” I call out, gently setting Y/n down. I try to ignore her pretty gaze burning holes into the side of my head and focus on the issue at hand, turning my harsh gaze to Pietro.

He gulps audibly because he knows I’m no longer playing around.

“Pietro, you’re going to explain now.”

Read Chapter Four Here!!

***

Pretty short chapter but I hope you liked! If anything I can rewrite it-

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skiyoosmi · 4 years

Text

if fate permits

⤷ chapter nineteen: when it's too late

previous < masterpost > next

YN'S POV

ATSUMU'S POV

TWO DAYS LATER...

[THE FOUR IDIOTS’ APARTMENT, 6:55PM]

Kiyoomi only watched as your eyes became melancholier, as if it were not already in the first place, the longer you stared at the screen of his phone. Probably rereading his conversation with Atsumu, he thinks. Initially, he wasn’t really planning on showing it to you but just like any other day, you decided to be the whipped soulmate (or more like an idiot, at least to him) you were, all while saying “Atsumu is important to me, should I really leave this apartment while not making amends with him?” He almost retched, is this girl really fixated on becoming a saint? How could someone be this lenient? He has no idea. And so, he showed you– that even after all this time, the piss-haired boy will remain as he is; that no matter how many years may pass, Miya Atsumu will be Miya Atsumu.

And he was the exact opposite of you: he was self-centered, conceited, prideful, juvenile, and so many more that it would take Kiyoomi more than a day to list all the things he detested from the boy. He can only remember how much he loathed the boy upon their first proper meeting; not that he likes meeting new people anyway. Kiyoomi was no genius but he knew, right at that moment, that Atsumu was far from being the ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ soulmate his dearest sister was so engrossed to have.

Kiyoomi also knew that he was not the best brother in the world; hell, he is way too far from being a good one even. He couldn’t care less if you have an admirer from afar (like that Iwaizumi who seems to be around you all the time these days), nor when you finally get yourself a suitable boyfriend, not even when you finally get wedded to someone. He wasn’t overprotective... or at least that’s what he believed. But he was only human, after all– now that he contemplates about it, he realizes that he isn’t really fond of seeing you cry.

“Stop hurting yourself over and over again, you fool of a sister,” he said, clicking his tongue afterwards and grabbing your bags after hearing your father call from downstairs, “Know your worth a little, will you? It’s kind of painful for me to watch you get hurt too, you know. It’s not just mom and dad.”

And with that, he left the room, leaving you to tend to your other belongings and perhaps, say goodbye to this little house that managed to etch itself to your heart. Compared to your childhood home, it wasn’t enough to make you sob your heart out dry. But for some reason, tears still found its way on the corner of your eyes as you remembered the fond memories you’ve made here with your boys – the moment you stumbled upon this house when you four were trying to find a place to stay, the smile on your face when you decided that this was the one (cue Atsumu literally hauling you three towards the agent to settle the down payment), the moving day when Kiyoomi and Osamu brawled for the first time in their lives because they both wanted that bedroom that was the only one downstairs, “to be away from the idiot disease” as what they said. You can only wonder if you could make new memories as happy as those in your future home.

“Ah… you really are a fool of a sister, YN,” you whispered to yourself, wiping the tears away and getting the last of your things before proceeding downstairs, finding your father standing by the front door, arms crossed with a face mask adorning his face (you never really questioned where your brother got his traits, it was as clear as the day), “Kiyoomi is already in the car but I think you should bid Osamu-kun a proper farewell first. He’s in the kitchen. We’ll be waiting so just take your time.”

You nodded before proceeding to the said area, finding the gray-haired with his arms already wide open. Your lips quivered before jumping at him, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We’ll still be seeing each other at school, you damn gorilla,” he chuckled before burying his face in your neck. You clicked your tongue, pouting at his very much realistic reply, “But it’s different! Eating breakfasts together, going to school together, going home together… and drinking wine until we’re brains out! I’m pretty sure my dad won’t let me do that at his house!”

He cackled, releasing you from his hold and flicking you on your forehead, “what an alcoholic woman! Are you sure you’re going to be a student in a prestige university abroad? You’ll be left behind by your classmates if you keep on prioritizing your wines before your studies.”

“Hah! You’ll see, Osamu. Those red wines will be the reason I even become one of the most famous writers in the world. You better wait and I’ll release an autobiography saying a man named Miya Osamu used to bully me to death,” you huffed, smirking after you saw him stare at you in disbelief. Your smile gradually disappeared upon the realization that the center of your heart was not home… even when I’m already leaving, huh?

Osamu frowned as well, scratching the back of his neck because of the sudden silence that indicated your little recognition, “I’m sorry. I told him to go home before 7 but…”

“It’s fine, Samu. We’re still not in the best terms so it’s probably better this way – a more peaceful way of farewell, you know? No fighting or anything else. Besides, I couldn’t tell him anything about my moving, scholarship, and so many things,” The lad didn’t miss the way you quickly wiped your tears away though. Damn you, Atsumu, why are you always making her cry, he thought.

“I’ll see you at school then, Samu. I’ll miss the dinners you cook,” you smiled, walking quietly outside, and shutting the front door. At the same time, a chime resonated from your phone that was in your pocket. Opening it, you released a long sigh… of relief? of anxiety? You didn’t know.

[Haji, 7:15PM]: I did it, YN. My thread, it’s… black.

You looked up at the night sky, finding stars twinkling as if they were gazing back at you.

Should I start moving on too, Haji?

[TOKYO UNIVERSITY GYMNASIUM, 7:20PM]

For the umpteenth time this week, Atsumu heaved yet another deep sigh, hands weaving itself with his hair to ruffle it out of frustration. Today, he couldn’t care less about the girls lurking around the university gym… because for the umpteenth time this week as well, his twin brother expressed his disappointment towards the boy, leaving him in the said place with the same words he had uttered yesterday and even the day before that, accompanied by a threat this time: “You’re such an immature asshole I wouldn’t be surprised if YN finally gives up on being your friend. You better come home before 7PM or else, I will drag you by your feet with my own two hands.”

Clicking his tongue, he grabbed another ball, gripping it so hard his nails almost left a dent on it. 7PM? He only scoffs. No, he won’t go home yet. He doesn’t care if Osamu gets furious at him and drags him nor if you give up on your friendship; all he thinks right now is that he wants to spike this ball straight onto the other side of the court, make it burst if it was even possible. It wasn’t his fault he got mad at you, he’s entitled to his feelings; he’s right, Kiyoomi’s mistaken… you shouldn’t have promised something you would just break in a span of less than thirty seconds. You shouldn’t hav–

But is it really her fault though? A voice in his head refuted him, or is it just because you’re really an immature asshole who can’t be happy for her?

Of course, it’s her fault, he argues. Immature? Him? He’s almost twenty-two, for god’s sake! He has been living in this world for more than two decades, how could Osamu call him underdeveloped? He swears he’s going to give his twin brother a good punch or two once he gets home.

… But she’s just trying to reach for her dreams, why are you not supporting her? She always does that when it comes to you, doesn’t she? Or have you already forgotten?

And at that, everything went perfectly still. The sound of the ball falling from his hands resonated throughout the quiet gym. Even with just hearing words from something or someone he can’t even identify, Atsumu felt as if he was hit on his head with a ton of bricks.

“E-eh…? W-why… why am I crying?” He whispered, fingers going up to touch his cheeks and furrowing his eyebrows when he felt the dampness of the said area.

Because you know you don’t deserve her. You know that it’s your fault. It has ALWAYS been your fault.

“Shut up,” he said to no one, plopping down the floor while he clutched his ears this time to shut the voice out. As it kept talking, he tried hitting his head with his hand, tried talking over it, tried retorting savage remarks back; however, everything was futile for it kept talking, kept torturing his mind with nothing but the truth.

You hurt her, then apologize, then do it again. What are you playing, a tug-of-war? How selfish of you, Miya Atsumu! Are you really her best friend?

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!” He screamed, his throat feeling as if it was getting scratched from the rawness of his voice. There was no way he was gonna have a voice tomorrow.

You’re so aggravated whenever you think about losing YN, are you sure you’re not in love with her or something? Yanno… have you never thought about the fact that maybe she’s your sou–

“Atsumu-kun! Wake up!” A voice yelled while grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him awake, finally bringing him out of his… dream? Was that even considered a dream? Because Atsumu was sure as hell that what happened was just plain torture to him.

“Are you okay, Atsumu-kun? You were having a nightmare,” turning to the girl who kept her hold on him, he finds Yui, who was looking back at him as if he lost the screws in his head. He starts to believe that he, in fact, did after all that weirdness. After all, who in the world would randomly just fall asleep in the middle of an empty gym then proceed to have a nightmare while on it. Surely, there would be no one except for him. How in the world did it happen anyway? As far as he could remember, he was just practicing his serves and tosses a while ago.

“Yui, why are you still here? It’s getting late,” he asks the girl whose eyes just lit up, for some reason, at his question before lifting her hand up and showing… what? She continued to smile though and waved the same hand right in front of Atsumu’s face, much to his slight annoyance. He wasn’t really in the best mood to play guessing games right now, so he only sighs exasperatedly, “Just get to the point, Yui-chan. I’m feeling the exhaustion now.”

“I told you before that I could see my thread, right? Well, it turned black! Me and my soulmate met up a while ago and turns out, he was a Moira, so we performed the mini ritual, which is so weird by the way, before cutting it. He said one of us has to ‘affirm’ their desire to cut the thread, so I did! As far as I know, based on my previous researches about soulmates, it doesn’t really matter because the ‘gods’ know the deepest desires of our hearts but you know, I don’t really care because I’m free!” She exclaimed, squealing afterwards, and flinging her arms around Atsumu’s neck to give him a hug. But the boy stayed still and gaped because how can someone afford to be happy at this situation? His arms remained motionless at his sides, confusing him; wasn’t he just itching to have this weeks ago? In fact, he was just dreaming about it about three days ago. So why? Why couldn’t he bring himself to hug her back?

“Your soulmate cut it. How can you be happy, Yui-chan….?” Before he knew it, his mouth spoke for him faster than his brain could process. He removed himself from the girl’s embrace, watching as confusion begin to form on her face; though it only took her milliseconds before an odd smile showed up on her face once more.

“Because that means I could finally date you without feeling guilty for my soulmate, silly!”

Atsumu felt like a hundred years had passed in just a single night and yet again, he sighed. If anyone sees him right now, they will probably laugh at his rather pathetic-looking state. Never in his life has he felt this exhausted, not even when Kita Shinsuke would force him to do an unreasonable number of receives and then make him clean the whole gym with the said captain; no, not even that could beat this fatigue and strangely, it makes him miss the captain.

Maybe he should’ve just gone home before 7PM, like Osamu said. He then shudders as he remembers that he still has to face his twin’s wrath.

“Can’t I just go back to being a toddler… like the brats that have no problem in the world?” He whines to himself quietly, relief spreading throughout his whole body as he sees your shared apartment; can already smell the meal Osamu cooked for you four; can visualize the disgusted look your brother will give him once he enters the house, all sweaty and gross-looking. Though, he thinks it’s odd that upon looking at the window of your room and Kiyoomi’s, he finds that they weren’t lit up unlike the usual. Maybe they’re already asleep, he shrugs given that you both love getting your beauty rest as much as you can. Twins, you are.

As careful as possible, he opens the front door, wincing when it makes a sound that would possibly wake up the very sensitive ears of Sakusa Kiyoomi from his room downstairs.

“Don’t bother trying to be quiet, Atsumu. You’re not going to wake anyone up in this house,” The voice of Osamu startles him. Fastly recovering from the mini-scare, he turns to his twin to glare while clutching his chest in hopes to calm his heart down, only to stop when he finds his brother glowering at him with a much worse scowl on his face.

“Samu, I’m sorry. I just got caught up with som–”

“You know, Tsumu, it’s kind of ironic, don’t you think? You always come around when it’s already too late,” Osamu speaks, trying to find the right words to say, “YN and Kiyoomi… they left and went back to their parents’ home. They will be staying there until YN and her mom leaves for abroad which would be in less than a month, right after this semester ends.”

Miya Atsumu was self-centered, conceited, prideful, juvenile, and so many more that it would take Kiyoomi more than a day to list all the things he detested from the boy. He didn’t care if you gave up and break off your friendship with him… at least that’s what he believed. But like Sakusa Kiyoomi, he was also human – and at that moment, as his brother stares at him and waits for a reply, he only stays still. Why is it that instead of the volleyball he was holding at the gym moments ago, it’s his heart that’s about to burst?

⤷ notes. we didn't have internet connection for a whole day and phew.. this was the result of me being bored out of my wits, i guess? and i apologize in advance for the pain that i keep on giving and WILL keep on giving :>

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #atsumu smau #iwaizumi smau #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #miya atsumu #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: coward :: warm saki for the cold nights Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: Atsumu deals with heartbreak again and while doing so, receives an unexpected call that may just help bridge you two again.

notes:

someone said that my character for atsumu was differently written from most fanfiction. tbh the only fuckboy i see in haikyuu is Yuuji HASHHSSHAHA have u seen the piercing and how agressive he is. that def screams fuck boi

also i will be closing the taglist already after this chapter :/ if you guys don’t want to be tagged in the side stories, just message me hehe its not a problem (also i will be updating the side stories every FRIDAY’S) the drabble requests will be open for ten drabbles after the side stories hehe ily all so much. stay safe and i hope you enjoy this chapter!

previous next masterlist

Atsumu watches you walk out of his life again for the second time.

He doesn’t know what to do or why he’s here on his bed, playing with the silver ring band that he was supposed to give you six years ago after he’d been accepted in the jackals. As much as he was heartbroken by the fact that you didn’t want to get married then, he still wanted to give you a simple ring band as a promise that marriage was never the only way to get him to stick around you.

He couldn’t throw it away even after all these years.

Now that he looks at it, he’s reminded of that time you left him. The first time.

He really thought it would hurt less this time around. It was the second time after all but it still stings especially now since it was right at his face. He lets out a bitter chuckle, ‘selfish, huh?’ he thought.

Those words were odd coming from you.

In the two year span of your relationship, you were never the selfish one. In fact, he came to the late realization that he was the selfish one between you two in the relationship. Atsumu always thought physical and loud declarations of affection were the key to a healthy relationship, mundane things like sleeping next to each other or being there everyday (hence why long distance relationships were a no go for him) but you, you took it up the notch.

It may have been your first relationship but you were better than any girl he had dated. He realized then that maybe that's why you broke up with him, because you probably thought that he didn’t care to know more about you (when in actuality he was just too scared to ask because he might lose you if he did)

The phone starts to ring and as much as he wants to ignore it again, something tells him that he should answer this unknown contact.

“...Yo, this is Daiki.”

He blinks as he hears the deep voice of the basketball player, wasn’t this supposed to be his rival? How the hell did he even get his number?

“I heard Y/N pushed you away again like before, want to grab that drink?”

Atsumu doesn’t know why he agrees right after.

They ended up at a private japanese bar, apparently they had the best saki in the whole of japan and Daiki was willing to treat him despite the high price of alcohol because of what happened between you two, “You look like shit, man.” he points out as soon as he arrived, “No offense. Then again, that’s what I looked like when Y/N first rejected me.”

Atsumu sits across him at the booth and ignores the man’s statement about his looks, “Do you still like Y/N that way? Even after she rejected you a lot?” he asks, suddenly.

“After I realized how much she liked those kid’s father. I sorta gave up.” He laughed as if it was nothing, “He was hard to match, Y/N was begging me not to go to him to punch him in the face, she was in tears that night.”

“He’s a lucky bastard.” Atsumu spat bitterly, pouring more sake on his cup, “I’m guessing you know this guy?”

“Of course I do.” Daiki began, “Only recently though, Y/N never told anyone who the dad was. I had to figure that shit out on my own.”

Atsumu stares at his drink for a moment and swirls it around, he wants to know but at the same time he doesn’t. What would he even do if he knew? Would he find him and punch the asshole in the face for doing that to you? He’s starting to get Daiki, whoever this guy was, he was impossibly hard to match.

“I want to be in her life.” Atsumu confessed, “I want to replace that bastard’s place.”

Daiki’s eyes crinkle in utter amusement, just how long was this cat and mouse game going to play? What would happen if he told this blonde guy? Would you talk to him after he told Atsumu why you left? Would Daiki even be able to handle you leaving him?

Daiki’s take a deep breath as he ponders on that thought. He was willing to risk it though. He sees the genuineness in this guy’s eyes. From a man to a man, he could sense it. God, if only he had been a bit more pushy towards you back then about the whole tell-your-boyfriend thing, maybe you’d have it a bit easier now.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Y/N.” The blonde shrugs, the mere mention of your name stinged like the alcohol he was drinking, “I can’t force her. I can’t repeat the same mistakes I made before. Relationships were never her strongest suit and I feel like I forced it on her.”

“You didn’t.” Daiki proclaims, the basketball player ponders for a moment in deep thought, “The thing about Y/N is that she’s careful with whom she wants to be intimate with. The reason why she probably said yes was because she saw something in you but in the end…” Daiki paused, he’s not sure what to say next, this was a sensitive issue after all, “In the end, her fear got the better of her…”

“Sometimes I wish I could take it all away.” The setter quietly confessed, recalling the fear in your eyes back then made him sick.

In the two-year relationship you had, it had always been about him. He really had the audacity to proudly proclaim that he loved you yet it seemed more like you had loved him more.

It showed when you’d quietly just hold his hand and draw small circles on it after a loss, how you’d listen to his stories without interruptions, how you’d help him out in classes that he had a hard time at, how you’d prepare a hot meal for him every night he stayed up later to train, and how you’d silently just let him snuggle on your chest after a long day. It was those little things, things he realized later on that you’d never do to other people but he was a special case.

It was always about you taking care of him and putting him first.

It wasn’t openly affectionate like the girls he had before or after you, you had your own little way.

It was always about wanting to get a physical reaction from you, he was too blinded to the fact that it was never your type of thing.

He was the taker in the relationship, you had always been the giver.

Daiki was silent once again as he observed his devastating figure, “You really love her, don’t you?”

“I do.” he chuckled, “People tend to call me a fuck up for that but they don’t get it. When Y/N shows a little side of her, you...you can’t stop loving her, ya know? God, when she smiled and laughed at me for the first time. I knew at that moment that I wanted to hear that beautiful sound for the rest of my life.”

It felt good to get that out of his chest for once, ‘samu would call him a sappy piece of shit if he had heard that but it was the raw truth. Every word he said, every feeling he tried to express, it was all so genuine and that’s what made everything so painful.

God, the saki was getting to him. He can’t believe he told Daiki out of all people about this.

“You said you wanted to know who the father of those kids was, right?”

Atsumu stops whatever he’s drinking and feels his ears perk up at the sound of that. Daiki looks dead serious as he downs the saki straight-up, the next few words sobers the blonde setter because it’s not what he expects.

“Y/N told me the father was her first boyfriend, a boy from tokyo university.”

Atsumu feels his heart thumping fast as he makes his way to your apartment in the dead of the night, the alcohol long gone but the words of Daiki still stinging and fresh, a father? Was that why you ran away?

Because you were pregnant with his kids?

He curses underneath his breath as he finally parks his car in front of your apartment, he’s still shaken by the sudden revelation and he feels like kicking himself, how he could’ve been so stupid? He should’ve known something was odd when you suddenly disappeared and broke up on the phone.

While he was enjoying his life as a pro, you were out there fending for the kids alone.

He shakes his head.

“...I can’t tell you why Y/N ran away, it’s better if you heard the story from her.” Daiki’s words echo in his head, “I know she placed a lot on your plate these past six years but she has her reasons, I’m not saying that you should forgive her immediately. I’m just asking you to listen.”

Atsumu gets out of his car and takes out his phone, calling the number he got from Daiki. You had never exchanged numbers even after all that had happened. Now that he noticed, you were keen on distancing yourself from him. Ever since the beginning, you were so adamant to push him out of your life in the same cold way like before.

How could he not have noticed?

He curses himself in his head, for all the times he had to be slow, why now?

“Hello?” Your voice is groggy, signaling that you were asleep, “May I know who's on the line?”

“I’m downstairs.” he blurted out, not knowing what to say, he knows you recognize his voice, “Can we talk Y/N?”

“Miya-san? What are you?- It’s almost twelve-”

“One last time, Y/N.” He pleads, voice soft as he says your name, “Please?”

You hang up soon after, he doesn’t care if he has to stake out here in his car for the whole night and wait for you to come down in the morning. Right now, all that matters is you.

Only you.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to do that since he sees you going out of your apartment a few moments later in a large black coat with mismatched socks, if it weren’t for the gravity of the situation, he would’ve teased you for your unusual get-up.

“I thought I told you that I didn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore.” in contrast to your soft tone, your words are harsh and if it were the old him, he’d have back down but he knows something now.

He takes in a deep breath and lets out a drawling sigh as he removes his scarf, “It’s cold tonight.” He observes, ignoring the harsh words you said as he inches closer to you to wrap his scarf around your neck.

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Aomine-san and I went out for a drink.” He recounts, tying the scarf on your neck. He sucks in a deep breath before he says the following words, “You know Y/N, you never told me his name.”

“Excuse me?” You're confused by the sudden words as you try to remove the scarf but he stops you and grabs a hold of your hands instead, clasping his fingers on yours like the old times. He loved the warmth you radiated. It always felt nice.

“The name of that bastard who left you.” He stated. He’s so close to you to the point that you could smell the saki and perfume on him, hear his ragged breathing, and hear the thumping of his heart. You try to remove yourself from his grasp but you’re trapped in his stare and tight hold, “What’s his name, Y/N?”

“I told you, it’s none-”

“Just a name, Y/N.”

Silence ensued between you two and you nervously gulp down.

So it really was him.

This was now or never.

“Just for one moment, can you stop running away from me?” he begs, as he inched closer to hug you and place his head on your shoulder, “Just stop running, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me what happened and why you ran away back then, just let me love you now and be a father to those kids.”

It's silent for a moment and he feels fear engulf him again, his confidence slowly vanishing. Were you going to push him away again?

Yet he feels you starting to tremble on his hold and something wet on his shoulders, he suddenly stands up straight to find you crying on his shoulder, “You’re so fucking stupid, did you know that?” you suddenly cried, “I literally broke up with you on the fucking phone, ran away from you-”

“Yet you never forgot me and raised those kids very well on your own.” He hummed, cutting you off as he rested his head on top of yours, still hugging you tightly. Yes, this was right, the warmth that he wanted was right here, he was finally at ease.His anxiety was slowly dwindling, “God, I should’ve tried harder to not make you feel that way before.”

“I-It’s my fault.” You stammered, “I kept doubting you and kept running from you.”

“You must’ve been scared, sweetheart.” He murmured, cutting you off as he ignores you recounting your past ‘mistakes’ --- he wouldn’t call it mistakes though, they were the seeds of doubt that he planted on you, so he was technically at fault there, he should’ve tried harder to not make you feel that way. He should’ve been more observant ---- He buries himself on your scent and draws small circles on your back to soothe your shaking figure. You’d do this to him a lot before, it was his turn now to return all the comfort and support you gave him.

Atsumu slowly lets go and sees you’re a mess in front of him from the red rims under your eyes to the wet cheeks to your non-stop shaking figure.

‘...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.’

No, it seemed like you had turned it off towards other people except your kids. Atsumu noted how strong you were towards your kids, how you tried hard to build a home for them and be the most genuine mother you could be, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to help and support you.

He slowly brings his hands up and softly cups your cheeks to wipe the stray tears, “I know that I can’t take all your problems and baggage away for a night but I’ll be here, Y/N. I’ll be here even if you’re annoyed, I’ll be here even if you throw me out because of the confusion you have with your feelings. I’ll stay. Permanently, no take-backs.”

You shakily lift your hands to grab a hold of his rough hands and squeeze it to make sure this is all real, that this wasn’t a dream.

“You’re an idiot.” You sniffle, taking in his warmth and basking on it, “I really told you to be selfish, for once. Why can’t you do that?”

“That’s ironic coming from you.” he mused, “You were always the giver in our relationship in your own way, you raised our kids in the best way possible. I could think of a million ways that you were the giver in our relationship and I was more of the receiver.” Atsumu chuckles at the irony as he slowly runs his fingers through your hair. He feels better now that everything is out of the way, that he can finally hold you with no restrictions. The little family with you that was supposed to be a fleeting moment, was now slowly becoming a reality.

“In the end, all that matters is that I love you. It’s never changed for the past six years, Y/N. I doubt it’ll change in the long run.” he confessed, leaning in to give you a brief kiss on the temple. You feel yourself start to calm down as you rested on his chest and listen to his heart beat.

You missed that sound, the sound of home.

It takes a while for you to actually settle down and sit with your kids, Atsumu reminds you that you could take your time in the introductions, even volunteering that he could help you with it but you decided against it in the end. This was your responsibility. You still had to make up for the past six years of heartbreak you gave to the poor man and your kids.

Atsumu doesn’t shy away though, he comes by after his morning training during your lunch break to have lunch with you and even volunteers to pick up the kids after class before his nightly training.

Slow pace and baby steps as he’d like to call it.

“Jiji’s acting weird.” Yuuto frowns as he picks on his fish with his chopsticks, “He’s been hanging around us too much, kaasan.”

“Yeah!” Youta echoes, “Is he going to be like Daiki-ojisan? Is he going to be our ojisan?”

You place your chopsticks down and stare at the pair in front of you. It would be hard to explain to the pair about Atsumu and his relationship with them, you almost wanted to call the man himself to help you explain but you decided against it.

This was now or never.

“Can kaasan tell you something?” You softly ask, placing your chopsticks down, the steamed fish long forgotten.

“What is it, kaasan?” Youta asks innocently, tilting his head just a bit, “Did jiji do something again? Should me and yu do something about it?”

“No,” you shake your head, “It’s...It’s about your otosan…”

Silence enveloped the table, the boys never talked about their father in front of you because they noticed how sad you’d be by the mere mention of their father yet that didn’t stop them from asking around your close circle of friends like Atsumu and Daiki. Did you find out about their interest? Were they going to be scolded?

“I...I want to introduce him to you…” You slowly began, “he...he’s come home…”

Youta and Yuuto’s eyes widen immediately, “He? He has?” Yuuto suddenly exclaimed, standing up from his chair. You could detect the excitement in his eyes, “What does he look like, kaasan? Does he have the same hair as us? Does he look like us? Did- did he get all his dreams?”

“Is he a doctor, kaasan? Or does he play sports like Daiki-ojisan and jiji?” Youta adds, wondering out loud, “Weird. We’re not that famous yet, kaasan. Is he going to be proud of us?”

You feel your heart thump and your eyes water at the question as you swallow the lump on your throat, “He’s, he’s very proud of you.” you try to blink away the tears, “In fact, your otosan was very scared because you might hate him.”

“Is that why he wasn’t able to come home?” Yuuto asks quietly, he had always been smart for his age.

You were silent for a moment and you take in a very deep breath, when they were old enough you’d tell them all about what happened, in the meantime, you’d tell them a simple explanation, “No, it was kaasan’s fault...Your otosan wasn’t able to come home because of kaasan…”

“Will...will you tell us why, kaasan?” Youta questions, you could tell that he was scared to ask that question.

“Because kaasan was scared…” You paused, trying to find the right words to explain to them, “Kaasan had you when me and your otosan was still quite young so kaasan ran away…”

“Did o-otosan not want us then?” Yuuto quivers, his lifted spirits now down, you could tell that he was trying to hold it in. You immediately had to stand up and rush to their side to comfort them, “Of course not!” You exclaimed, taking their hands and bending to their level, “It’s just, kaasan had very bad things happening around her that she had to run away.”

“Are...are the bad things gone now then, kaasan?”

You turn to Youta whose eyes were soft and spirits down too, he seemed to have grasped the situation yet at the same time, he couldn’t get it. Maybe it was a big kids type of thing? Would he understand this all when he was older?

“Almost…” You quietly replied, you knew you still had a lot of things to fix within yourself like Atsumu had said, it’s not something you can ever get rid of but it’s never bad to take a helping hand once in a while, “Your otosan is helping me and you guys are helping me too, so they’re slowly disappearing…”

“When...when will we meet him? Our otosan?”

You’re silent for a second and you nervously tell them to wait a moment as you go to your room to take out a Polaroid, one with you and Atsumu in it. It’s an old one, taken on your last anniversary. It’s one of those memorabilia's you kept of him that you could never throw away.

You come back to the table and sit across them as you place the picture in front of them, “You’ve met him already…”

Youta’s eyes widen, “Isn’t this…”

“Jiji?” Yuuto finishes, jaw slacken.

You couldn’t tell if they were happy or disappointed at all. Their faces were bare stripped of emotion, the only thing you detected was shock.

“It was never your otosan’s fault, I…” You shakily sighed, holding in the tears, “It was mine, I’m so sorry…I’m so so sorry…”

At that moment, you really didn’t know how you should face them or how you should explain it to them, you were so caught up in your fears and anxiety that you didn’t notice how soft their features became, “Will you tell us?” Youta asks.

You look them both in the eye.

“Will you tell us why where we’re older, kaasan?” Yuuto adds.

Your shaking ceased when you heard those words.

Ah yes, they were their father’s kids. Always so patient, always there to listen to you. How were you blessed with such good kids? You broke down a smile reserved just for them.

“Yes, when you’re ready and older.” You affirmed, bowing down in apology, “I hope you’ll be patient with me then.”

taglist [officially closed, if you guys want to be removed for the side stories, feel free to tell me hehe ilyasm]

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#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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sintreaties · 2 years

Note

mary is inside/enters ririka's dreams

(Please don't send any more prompts guys. For fairness' sake — and because I have a horrible attention span — let me finish the ones I already have)

This one goes to the Meariri shippers out there, then. The last chapter was like rain in the desert, huh? These bitches gay, good for them.

So we got an oneiric setting. The goal was to mess with the very structure of the story. Although it was a short one, I'm satisfied with what I came up with.

She opened her eyes.

The light came in blades through the closed curtains of her window. She rolled over under the duvet and reached for her phone: if it wasn’t Sunday, it would have been time to get ready for school.

Mindlessly, she opened the browser and searched for the restaurants that were open for lunch.

—

The cool thing about sleeping is that, if you’re lucky, you get a good eight hours of cease-fire from the world. Just darkness, warmth, and silence. Not as calm as the womb, but that’s as close as it can get, without having to crawl all the way back through the place where we all come from.

Then, what happens to those that aren’t as lucky? Not insomnia, no.

Saotome had the chance to find out one day — or rather, one night. Mary herself wouldn’t have been able to see it coming. That’s on her though. Had she been just a bit less stubborn to heart’s matters, had her ears been more willing to listen, legends would have come to her aid. As they’re wont to do, or else people wouldn’t tell them.

Nights are threaded with something special, and lovers know best about it. So, what would happen if two lovers thought of each other, right as they fell asleep together?

This place feels… cramped.

A fair observation. A correct one too. Mary remembered being in her bed — alone, and thus with all the space she needed. This was very different, to say the least.

It felt like being stuck between a book’s pages. Like a poor, unfortunate flower one plucks and stashes away, forcing themselves to believe that they won’t forget about it in a matter of hours.

Ririka’s mind seemed filled with glue. As the word occurred to Mary, she tried to keep in check the sudden difficulty she found in breathing. She tried looking at her hands (she did not find the space for it), and then she realized, again, but with unforgivable clarity: why did she think that this was Ririka’s mind?

Because only Ririka is so quiet. This is what it’s like to wear her mask. Dark and cramped. Hard to breathe.

Plus they had known each other for long enough. Mary tried to tug at her collar — and could not, again.

So, one hand, Ririka. In the middle, Saotome, trying not to suffocate. And then…?

“Hello, Mary.” Kirari — a clump of something that Saotome sensed with the utmost annoyance, holding the hand of Ririka’s quiet presence — smiled in the dark. “Come and join the Student Council with us.”

“Oh, hell no!” cursed Saotome.

She pulled away, ran in the dark, until whatever was Kirari disappeared behind her shoulder. She didn’t notice it, but it got easier to breathe.

(And she didn’t know it, but only when Mary was around Kirari left Ririka enough space to stretch among her own thoughts).

The scene changed. Colors flooded Saotome’s vision, to the point that she could breathe them in, feel them on her skin. Outside: the sun, a few tables, an empty sidewalk. But it didn’t feel lonely, or weird. That silence wasn’t the end of the world. A part of Saotome thought that it was because Ririka was used to being alone. If all, she preferred it.

Ririka herself proved it. She sat at one of the tables, closing her eyes as the sun came to kiss her eyelashes, like house cats do on balconies. As if the table itself had been waiting for Mary, food appeared before them. Ririka’s hamburger was twice as big as her face, dripping with sauce. Just like she liked them.

Saotome didn’t remark on the fact that, although she had been standing a few feet away, she was now sitting right in front of her host for the night.

She’s getting hungry? Mary wondered. Is it because it’s already breakfast time? Man, how long have I been here?

As she watched Ririka eat, Mary rested her chin in her hand, relaxing in her seat. Being an oneironaut came with its respite, it seemed.

“You’re always thinking about eating,” said Mary. “Even in your dreams.”

“That’s not true,” replied Ririka. She licked some sauce from the corner of her lips. “I think about you too.”

Can you choke in dreams? Saotome waited for the coughing fit to dwindle. “D-Don’t lie to me! Dumbass!” she spluttered.

“We never go,” continued Ririka. She looked at the hamburger, choosing where to bite next. “Out to eat, I mean.”

“Why would we?” Saotome crossed her arms. “You never speak to me, anyways. I never know what you’re thinking. Unless I force you. What am I supposed to do then?”

“I don’t want to speak. I just want to be with you.”

Ririka, Saotome learnt, wasn’t just dark, and glue, and hard-to-breathe. Ririka was very warm. She leant against Mary’s shoulder. Their bellies were full, the sun wrapped them in its blanket. Ririka made herself comfortable in the alcove of Saotome’s presence, now that Mary was at a loss for words.

Mary did try looking for them. They slipped, between Ririka’s closed eyes and Saotome’s burning cheeks, evading her. She would have been able to find them, for sure. But Ririka’s feet were getting cold.

Kirari woke up much earlier than her and came to join her, hogging the sheets, playing with her phone as she waited for Ririka to wake up so she could make her less bored.

Although she forgot it at once, Saotome understood all of this because some part of Ririka understood it before her.

But legends can only last for so long.

Mary opened her eyes.

The sun came in blades through the open curtains of her room.

#kakegurui #saotome mary #momobami ririka #meariri #saotome mary x momobami ririka #sintreatiesreplies #sintreatieswrites #anon

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elvish-sky · 3 years

Text

A Light From the Shadows Chapter 3- We Always Keep Going, or The One Where Shit Goes Down. Literally.

A.N: Indecision strikes again in the form of me honestly not being able to pick a title for this chapter- so I picked two! Also- I won’t be able to post fics (b/c no access to AO3 or Google Drive) tomorrow or Sunday, which is why this is being posted today. This is the first chapter, and honestly the first thing I've written in so long that I like and am actually proud of. I feel like I might be getting back into the writing groove? Fingers crossed! But, seriously, thank you all for the love and support of this fic. I am so happy you like it <3. Also i’m very excited for your reactions to the canon characters showing up…

Warning: Blood, Angst

A Light From the Shadows Masterlist

Read on Wattpad and AO3

*******

The faint grey light of the moon filtered down into the cell from a small crack in the stone ceiling, barely illuminating Aeri’s face. It cast a shadow across her hands and set the vaguely familiar face of the elf passed out in the cell next to her aglow.

Aeri lay on the cold stone floor, hands and feet still bound. Her fingers flexed as she tried to get some blood flowing to her arms. She’d been in the same position for a very long time- it was so dark that she could not tell exactly how long had passed since Rhugar had dumped the body in the cell next door.

“Where am I?” a weak voice asked.

Aeri started. She turned her head and saw the other elf clinging to the bars separating them, even more, familiar with her eyes open.

She looked so scared, terror illuminating her face just as the moon had moments before.

“Please tell me. Where am I?” She clutched at the bars desperately.

Aeri shifted, trying to move closer. “You’re in Dol Guldur.”

The elf looked horrified. “Really?”

Aeri nodded, and she could see the despair crashing over the elf’s face. She tried to think of a way to distract her.

“Who are you?”

The elf looked away, “I don’t know if I can tell you that.”

Aeri sighed. “Fine. Will it help if I tell you my name first?”

She didn’t respond, so Aeri continued.

“I’m Aerinithil.”

The elf’s spine straightened, eyes widening in shock. “Really?”

Aeri couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’d know my own name. But how do you know it?”

“You’re Calenglîn’s daughter! The one she had with that human.”

Aeri grew wary. “How do you know my mother?”

The elf had a faint smile on her face, reminiscing. “We were best friends, inseparable until she left with Eddard.”

And then Aeri realized where she’d seen her before.

“...Celebrían?”

The elf nodded. And then passed out.

Aeri scrambled over to her, chains clanking against the rock-solid floor as she crashed into the bars separating them.

“Celebrían!!! Celebrían! Please wake up, please, please, please…”

Aeri trailed off. She’d been shaking Celebrían through the bars and rolled the elf over to see blood spilling through her dress, pooling on the floor underneath her. Aeri parted the fabric at the source, on the left side of Celebrían’s abdomen, and saw a stab wound, bleeding and so clearly infected Aeri was sure the blade that had done it had been poisoned.

“Oh no, no no no no no,” Aeri muttered, scrambling for something to stop the bleeding. She looked down at herself, the ragged hem of her tunic. Quickly, she tore it off and tried to wrap it around Celebrían through the bars of the cell. She succeeded, getting the fabric over Celebrían’s wound and tied it, contorting her arms through the bars.

Aeri heard padding footsteps, the ones that she now recognized as belonging to Rhugar, and panicked. Celebrían was passed out, possibly dying, because of a clearly poisoned stab wound in her side, and Aeri was sure that Rhugar would only make it worse. She had to do something. And she had to do it now.

Aeri knew that the one thing that could help her now was the thing she was terrified to do- at some point when she was bleeding, broken on the floor, something had seeped into her. A shadow. She’d spent the time in this cell learning its language, and now she called them all, whispering, muttering to the very things that had once sought to destroy her.

And they came.

Darkness spread across the cell as Aeri’s hands moved, directing the shadows to cover each wall and crack and crevice until there was no light at all. Aeri realized that she could sense shapes in the darkness- she could feel Celebrían’s hair like it was brushing against her hand instead of attached to the elf’s head a foot away. She was aware of everything happening in the pool of shadow she had created that spanned the two cells.

She sent shadows worming into the manacles on her ankles and wrists, worming their way into the very heart of the metal, and then the darkness expanded, corrupting the metal until it collapsed off of her wrists. She did the same to those shackling Celebrían, heard the clink of the broken shackles on the floor once the shadows had done their work, and called them back to her.

Aeri heard Rhugar drawing closer and closer to the cell, and drew back the shadows so that there was a small circle of light around her and Celebrían, but darkness still separated them from the doorways to both cells.

Rhugar opened the cell door and saw nothing but darkness. The entire cell was just pitch-black- he’d been able to at least see his hand in front of his face when he’d been in here before. But this was different. There wasn’t a little light that made it easier to bear- this was the total absence of light.

“Aerinithil…” Rhugar entered the cell, unsheathing his sword as he moved, trying to find his niece.

Aeri crouched, waiting in the pool of light she’d left for herself and Celebrían. She could feel where Rhugar was in the cell and felt it as he drew closer and closer. Just as she sensed him about to emerge from the dark, she put her hands behind her back.

Rhugar stepped forward, emerging into the light. He threw up a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness.

Aeri watched him, waiting for him to look down and notice him. He blinked, trying to adjust to the light and when he looked at her he grinned.

“Ah. There you are,” he drew closer, “but what’s going on with our friend over there?” He gestured to Celebrían.

Aeri waited as Rhugar padded over to the bars separating them from the elf. Her hands twitched behind her back, flexing.

“Where are her chains, Aerinithil?” His voice had a dangerous edge.

Rhugar turned to look at his niece once more, and Aeri took a deep breath.

She raised her hands, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

It took him a second to notice the lack of manacles on her as well, but when he did, the expression on his face was almost comical. Until it became twisted, wrong, his face echoing the evil in his eyes.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Aeri raised her unshackled hands. “I learned.”

She brought them together and the darkness rushed in around them, shadows racing forward at her call to bind Rhugar’s wrists and ankles the way he’d bound hers, forcing him down until he was kneeling at her feet.

“Farewell, Uncle,” she told him, and then punched him in the face. Rhugar collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, and Aeri limped past him.

She left her cell and approached the still-locked door of the one next to it. Twisting her hand, she called a shadow and directed into the metal of the lock, corrupting it until it fell apart. She shoved the door open, wincing at the shriek of metal against stone, and saw Celebrían laying on the floor. Aeri rushed over to the elf, kneeling beside her and trying to shake her awake, careful not to touch her wound.

“Celebrían, please, wake up, please wake up.”

Celebrían’s eyes opened. “Aerinithil?”

Aeri nodded, blinking back tears of relief. “Yes, yes, it’s me. Can you stand? We have to go!”

Celebrían winced. “I do not know if I have the strength.”

“You have to.”

Aeri heaved Celebrían to her feet, apologizing as the elf cried out in pain. She slung Celebrían’s arm over her shoulders, supporting her, and they walked out the door together, both limping, Celebrían hanging on to Aeri like her life depended on it.

They made their way down the hall slowly, cautious of any enemies waiting around the corner.

“Do you know the way out?”

Celebrían shook her head.

Aeri sighed, “Me neither. Guess we’ll find out,” and they limped on.

A ways down the hall, an orc rounded the corner in front of them, stopping short at the sight.

“How did you get out of your cells?”

Aeri shrugged Celebrían’s arm off her shoulder, leaving the elf leaning against the wall. She sprang forward and knocked the orc unconscious, much like she’d done to her uncle only a while earlier, and then grabbed Celebrían once more.

They hobbled through the halls together, every time they saw an enemy Aeri would knock it unconscious. Until there were too many.

A horde of orcs was chasing them as they limped as fast as they could through the cold stone hallways, bare feet hurting on the rough floor.

Aeri released Celebrían once again and turned to face them all as they rushed towards her.

She raised her arms, flexing her hands and twisting her fingers

Celebrían looked up at Aeri. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing it all down.”

Elladan sat astride his horse, racing towards the fortress of Dol Guldur alongside his brother. They’d been tracking the orcs that had kidnapped their mother for weeks and were finally closing in.

“Brother!” came a shout from next to him, “Look!”

Elladan looked. The fortress was starting to shake, a rumble sounding through the air. He stopped his horse.

“Should we keep going?”

“Our mother is in there,” Elrohir told him, “We always keep going.”

Elladan spurred his horse after his brother and kept going.

Several minutes later, the twins stopped short in horror. A cloud of darkness was rising from the fortress, filling the sky and casting shadows on the surrounding land. It billowed up and up in waves, blanketing the forest as it spread.

“What do we do?” Elrohir asked.

Elladan held up a hand, “What is that?” and peered into the darkness.

A person, a young woman, was racing towards them at the front of the darkness, another woman cradled in her arms.

Aeri sprinted at the front of the shadows she had summoned, the darkness following at her heels as she ran. Celebrían was cradled in her arms, muttering and groaning as Aeri moved, trying her hardest not to jolt her friend.

She saw two figures astride horses waiting on the path ahead, and slowed for a moment. She could tell they were elves, but after Rhugar’s betrayal, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. And then she drew closer and saw the same features of the elf in her arms in their faces. Aeri knew that Celebrían had twin sons, and these must be them. She started sprinting again.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure how she was managing to carry her friend, as well as keep up the darkness that was currently tearing the fortress apart. She thought it might be adrenaline. But she was thankful for the extra energy as she heard the thunderous noises of the fortress crumbling behind her.

Aeri approached the twins, slowing as she reached them.

Elrohir watched this mysterious woman approach them. She had ears like an elf’s but there was something about her that assured him that she wasn’t, or at least not entirely so. He could see the elf she had cradled in his arms, see that it was-

“Emmë?” Elladan whispered.

Elrohir slid off his horse, walking towards the girl that held their mother.

“Who are you?” He whispered as he got closer.

Through the dust and grime covering her face, he saw a faint smile as she spoke. “A friend.”

Elladan walked up behind his brother. “Thank you for bringing her.”

The girl nodded. “Of course. She has a poisoned wound, so get her to a healer soon.’

“Thank you again,” said Elrohir.

She nodded. “Take care of her,” said the not-quite-an-elf-that-had-pointy-ears, and then she strode into the forest, alone.

Later, Aeri sat on a branch high in an old oak, looking out over the forest. Dol Guldur still dominated the landscape, but it looked much different. Instead of the commanding fortress it had been that morning, it was a crumbling pile of rubble. She couldn’t believe that she had done that.

Holding up her hand, she let a shadow wind around it, wrapping around her right-hand thumb like a ring, shaking. This new power, controlling darkness, was terrifying. She’d brought down a fortress with it in a matter of minutes- who knew what else she’d do? But something inside her called for more- it wanted to be set free, shown to the world in an even greater display than what she’d just done.

Rhugar hauled himself up onto the wall, wincing. He’d been knocked unconscious by that awful niece of his, and just as he’d come to the ceiling had crashed down around him. Small scrapes and bruises covered every part of his body. His head was throbbing, and he reached up to wipe at his face. His hand came away red with blood, and as the pain grew he realized he had a large cut on his face. He grimaced as he stood, surveying the land around him. He was at the top of the ruins now, having spent a long time hauling himself up, and could see for miles. He could also clearly see that Dol Guldur, his base, was completely destroyed. His master would not be pleased, but that would not matter. Dol Guldur could be used whether ruined or not.

Rhugar took a deep breath and began the descent.

Aeri didn’t know whether Rhugar had survived. As much as she wanted him to be gone, some part of her still thought of him as family, remembered the uncle that he once was. But she knew he wasn’t, that he hadn’t been that person for a long time. Something had reached into the inner depths of his soul and turned them rotten.

She climbed down the tree and limped off into the woods, in the direction of the home that, after the deaths of her parents, only she knew about. The safehouse hidden in the far north, above even Erebor, that she hadn’t been to for years. She began planning- how she’d get supplies to withstand the long journey north, acquiring a horse, and how to wipe out the blight known as the servants and master of Mordor off Middle-Earth, once and for all.

Aeri had no clue why the shadows had chosen her, but she knew she’d try to do better with them than Rhugar had done with the darkness inside himself.

*******

A.N: WHAT DO YOU THINK?!?! I’m honestly so excited to hear your thoughts on this!! What do you think of the canon characters appearing? I loved getting to include Celebrían, even if I did have to make a minor tweak to canon to include her (but it was very minor). and what do you think of Aeri’s powers?

Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

ALFTS tag: @lothloriien @laurfilijames @cassiabaggins @claraofthepen @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Mentions of Death, and Smut

So these are getting longer, hope you guys don’t mind but I am having so much fun writing them. And don’t worry this is nowhere near the end.

Chapter 3

The second she wakes up, Natasha reaches for her side. She’s mildly surprised to find it bandaged, the white tainted pink in some spots.

She didn’t expect you to leave her to die or anything but she- well she isn’t sure what she expected. The last thing she expected though was to find you, asleep, on the floor beside her bed. Your chest rising and falling with each breath.

After taking a second to breathe and collect her thoughts, she gets out of bed and goes to shower. She’s careful not to agitate her wound as she does so.

Her eyes stare back at her in the mirror, water droplets still clinging to her forehead.

For the life of her she can’t wrap her head around you.

One second you’re reckless: running head first into a fight, blowing things up without warning, and deciding that a mission that would’ve taken at least a week to successfully complete could be done in a day.

Then the next second you’re being sweet: calling her ‘pretty girl’(yeah she heard that), tending to her wound in a seemingly gentle manner, tucking her into bed, and falling asleep in that uncomfortable spot to check on her if need be.

In actuality she isn’t sure that you care about her, you just fixed her up after an incident. Most likely laid there to make sure she didn’t die. That’s what any decent human would do. And she could at least admit that you’re a decent human.

Your voice followed the knock on the door,“ Natasha, uh, you okay?”

Her eyebrows pinch together. She pulls the door open and comes face to face with you.

She watches as your y/e/c eyes scan her form, lingering on her side.

“Do you um-” you clear your throat,“ I don’t mind helping you bandage that back up.”

Natasha’s gaze zeros in on the gash on your forehead. It definitely hadn’t been attended to, if the dried blood was anything to go by.

For the first time today, she speaks,“ seems like you’re the one who needs bandaging.”

You frown, only to instantly figure out what she means.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Barely a scratch.”

Running her tongue across her bottom lip, she reaches out and grabs your wrist. Her gentle tug has you following her into the living room.

She stops in front of the couch and nods for you to sit. Which you do. Briefly she disappears, only to instantly return with the first aid kit you had yesterday.

After sitting on the coffee table, she pulls some things out of the red container, and looks at you expectantly. You lean forward, eyes never leaving her’s, even when she breaks her gaze and starts cleaning your forehead.

“I don’t remember this happening.” She murmurs, a glance in your eyes then back to your forehead.

You resist the urge to raise your eyebrows,“ bullet clipped me right before you got hit. But like I said,” you smile softly,“ I am okay. Now slap a band-aid on this so I can patch you up.”

Her eyes narrow at you,“ what’s with this act, huh? You’ve been reckless and brazen since we met and now all of a sudden you’re quietly sweet.”

She watches as you tense up the second she says reckless and she’s further confused as you go quiet.

From that point on. Even as you put a clean bandage on her and proceed to make breakfast.

And you feel it. You feel her inquisitive gaze following your every move and you ignore it. Why? You feel so incredibly guilty over yesterday.

It was your idea to retrieve the data before you were ready, you are the reason Natasha got hurt and it killed you.

You couldn’t stop the nightmare that hit you last night. Everything had happened exactly as it did in real life. You and Natasha were fighting, you got hit, she got hit. Except in the dream you couldn’t save her.

Those words rang in your head from the second you woke up on the floor to the moment you saw her in that bathroom. Seeing her alive and for the most part well quelled your anxiousness.

That is until she just reminded you of your mistake.

You are reckless and brazen.

“Y/N.” Natasha sighs.

It instantly pulls you from your thoughts.

She’s said your last name like a hundred times, each time with a bit of disdain. But hearing her say your first name, in the soft way that she did, it spurred something in you.

Taking a deep breath in, you lock eyes with her, and release it.

“I’m so sorry Natasha.”

Confusion writes over her expression almost instantly,“ for what?”

“You’re right. I am reckless, and stupid, and brazen. You got hurt because of me, It was my idea to go into that building and I-”

Hesitance flickers through her before she’s stepping toward you. Her hands move slowly, reaching up to grab your forearms. She smooths her thumbs over your skin and it grabs your attention.

Eyes locking on her hands on you.

You’ve known her all of two weeks. In that span of time you’ve never seen her so gentle.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t shoot me and as far as I remember I agreed to the plan.” She tells you.

When your eyes meet, you don’t dare to look away.

“And I never called you stupid. In fact I think you’re pretty damn smart. You just do things differently.”

You chuckle, shaking your head,“ differently?”

“Look, I shouldn't have blown up at you after our first mission. It was a complete success and it was in big part thanks to you. Your plans work, I’m just use to a certain way of handling things.” Natasha explains.

You smile,“ I get it. One hundred percent. But I’m not use to having a team, so all I ask is that we trust each other. We’re like complete opposites, we barely know each other, and we’re in a business where trusting someone is near impossible. But I’m still asking, that you trust me, at least while we’re on missions.”

Natasha pauses. Those silvery green eyes continue to look into your y/e/c ones. She searches and searches for your sincerity, for her reason to trust you, and when she finds it, it nearly sends her to her knees.

There was no room in your eyes for any other emotion and she didn’t know she could trust someone in an instant.

"Okay.” Her words are barely above a whisper but you hear them.

It causes you to smile and it’s then you notice that Natasha has been holding your arms this whole time.

Her skin on yours feels nice, despite the persona the redhead assassin gives off, her touch is warm and tender. It’s easy to say that her touch could make you forget the universe all together.

You zero in on the tingling racing up your arms, the pounding in your heart, and the emotions rushing through your head.

“If you keep staring at my lips I’m gonna get the wrong idea Y/L/N.” Her raspy voice reaches your ears.

You hadn't even realized you were staring at her lips now. Could she blame you, what with how close you two were, how the tension in the room shifted from awkward to arousing in an instant.

Licking your lips, you make eyes with her,“ and what would that be?”

“That you want to kiss me.” Her eyebrow quirks up in the slightest and you notice a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

You daringly take a step closer, eyes darting from lips to eyes,“ if I didn’t know any better I’d say you want to kiss me too.”

“Maybe. But you’re not gonna find out that easily.”

“Don’t worry,” you lean down ever so slowly and speak low into her ear,“ I plan to work for it.”

*****

Your words left her on edge. For the past two days she’s watched your every move. And she noticed the shift in the way you did everything.

The way you leaned just a little closer than before when you poured her wine, the way your fingers lingered on her skin when she allowed you to change her bandage, or the way you’d cage her between your arms for those brief seconds as you helped her wash dishes.

She waited, quite literally holding her breath at one point, for you to do something.

By then she didn’t care how hard you worked for it, she just wanted it.

It ate at her as she laid in bed, with you just a room over.

For the life of her she couldn’t understand why she wanted whatever it was so bad. She couldn’t pinpoint when exactly she stopped being so annoyed at your usual tendencies and started feeling whatever she’s feeling.

It drove her crazy.

You drove her crazy, in a completely different way than before.

Part of her is intoxicated by it, hanging on to the feeling until you do something. The other part of her wanted it to end, but only because she just knew once you did something that feeling would amplify in the best way possible.

It’s why she told Fury that you two didn’t get the data when he asked. Apparently he caught wind that the target base had been attacked and he assumed it was you two, she said it wasn’t.

Yeah. She lied just to capture a few extra moments with you. Had you two gone back to the compound the moment may never come and she couldn’t chance that.

Currently the two of you were reading through the mission file to ensure, one hundred percent, that you did everything. She was talking you out of reading the collected data.

You were curious and it was there. But you genuinely weren’t going to read it, going behind Fury’s back like that would ruin your credibility with him and you would never. Still it was fun getting Natasha all flustered and riled up.

“Earth to Miss Romanoff.” She snaps back to attention at the sound of your voice, closer than before.

She takes in your position as you lean over her shoulder, your lips mere centimetres away from her ear.

“Natasha,” you sing,“ get your head out of the clouds pretty girl.”

There you go again with that little name!

“If you don’t reply I may be forced to use extreme measures.”

There’s the oh so alluring sound of your flirting. Exactly what put her in a daze in the first place.

She looks into your eyes but doesn’t reply.

“Oh I see, you want me to take extreme measures.”

You read her so quickly and so well that it scares her.

Is she losing her touch? She’s spent years, decades, perfecting her ability to hide her emotions. But with you it was like she hadn’t ever been trying in the first place.

You walk around the chair she’s sitting in to sit on the coffee table in front of her.

“How off would I be if I guessed that you’ve been dying to kiss me.” The instant you smirk her heart kicks into overdrive.“ In fact it’s all you’ve been thinking about isn’t it?”

Natasha runs her tongue across her lips and you watch the action intently.

It wasn’t as hard for you to realize you liked Natasha as it was for her to even think she liked you. If anything you realized you liked Natasha the moment you met her.

So of course you’ve been thinking about kissing her. And quite frankly you’ve loved every second of the teasing. It drove you crazy that plain ole you could make the Natasha Romanoff hold her breath.

“Natasha?” Her eyes darken as you purr her name.“ Do you want me to kiss you pretty girl?”

Her heart flutters and she feels like a love struck school girl. It would piss her off to no end if she ever felt the notorious butterflies because of you.

As much as she wants to kiss you she can’t find the words. So she settles for a nod.

Leaning closer, you bring your hand up to cup her cheek. Your thumb runs across her smooth porcelain skin. The look in her eyes is one you don’t ever think you’ll forget.

If kissing her was going to make that look even better then you just had to. And so you did.

Your lips press against her soft pink ones and, cliches be damned, you feel fireworks. They explode on your lips and send tingles across your face and down your neck.

Natasha feels the exact same thing. She almost feels like she’s shaking.

She can’t help but think how right she was to expect this to be incredible. But she also knows she overly underestimated.

Not a single one of her thoughts could’ve prepared her for the feeling of your lips on hers and she reveled in it.

When you pull away your name is a whisper from her lips to yours and she’s adamant on pulling you back in by the hair.

One final tug has you straddling her lap, your hands now finding her hair and tangling into the shoulder length red locks.

Weeks ago you were sure Natasha hated you but now, as you bite her lip and she moans, you know that feeling is gone.

The moment, however, is abruptly ruined as Natasha’s mission issued communicator goes off.

Your lips part and both your chests heave with ragged breaths.

A breath or two later and Natasha brings the communicator to her ear,“ Agent Romanoff.”

You make to climb out of her lap but her hand grips your hip. She levels you with a look that stills you.

“Actually we’ve collected the data as instructed.”

Her words intrigue you. You knew she had spoken to Fury about the mission before and you assumed she already told him you collected the data.

The conversation continues and as much as you would love to stay in her lap, you make the decision to get up.

Natasha rolls her eyes and glares at you and you stick your tongue out at her.

Chuckling, you collect her now empty wine glass and retreat into the kitchen.

With a moment to breathe, you let your thoughts race:

You just kissed Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha Romanoff let you kiss her.

It was the best kiss you’ve ever had, yes ever.

Nothing you’ve done before has felt so right.

But that doesn’t mean anything if it doesn’t happen again.

Does Natasha even want to kiss you again?

Cause you definitely want to kiss her again. Hell since you aren’t lying to yourself you could admit that a part of you needed to kiss her again. How could you live a life without those lips after having had them?

You don’t have time to figure it out as the angelic devil herself enters the kitchen.

A smirk rests on her lips and her eyes immediately connect with yours.

“So?” You start,“ why’re you just now telling Fury we collected the data?”

Her eyes widen, it’s barely noticeable but as always you catch it,“ what?”

You step closer, bending down in the slightest to catch her now averted gaze,“ I asked, why are you just now telling Fury we collected the data? Because you and I both know that happened days ago. And you and I both know you talked to Fury the night after we collected it so, answers Romanoff.”

She looks away for the briefest second and you catch the slip up in the confidence she exudes.

“Miss Romanoff,” you gasp,“ did you lie to Fury just to spend time with little old me?”

For the first time ever, you see Natasha’s face flush. The pink tint on her pale skin is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh my god, you’re blushing. You did lie to Fury for me.”

“Shut up Y/L/N.” Natasha grumbles and turns around.

You laugh as her form retreats from the kitchen.

“Awe don’t walk away pretty girl, I think it’s sweet you wanted to spend more time with me,” you wrap your arms around her waist from behind.

She starts to relax into you hold.

“And I think your blush is adorable. The bad ass assassin going all red over me.” You continue to gush.

She rolls her eyes and pushes you away, retreating to her room with a groan of annoyance, and a small smile.

*****

Tag List: @uglipotata72829

And since it exists now(lol) feel free to ask to be added to the taglist.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #mcu #marvel x reader #black widow x reader #black widow #reader insert #Thin Line

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storysofmyown · 3 years

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Seven stages of love Chapter 3: Ludus

Summary: Ever since the Celestial War, since they all fell, Asmodeus has dedicated himself to his sin. Not caring about anything else, but drowning himself in the pleasure and ecstasy of it all. But not anymore, now he cant even handle the idea of it. But, what else is there to want? After so long of having indulged in his sin, what is there than Asmodeus is looking for, something that will fill him, and that wont drive him to destruction? Perhaps his brothers can help him with that. Warnings will appear in each chapter.

Trigger Warnings: Self depricatement (?), anger, mentions of exhaustion. Please tell me if I forgot to add one.

Word Count: 3278

Read on ao3

It had been at the very least an hour, and Asmodeus eyes had yet to focus on the damn page in front of him. His eyes were looking at the words. He was reading and he knew what each word meant, but it all felt like his brain refused to understand what was in front of him. He read the same word over and over again but in his mind all he could think about was Leviathans words and what it all meant to him. His heart rate had been calmer than ever before, but that didn’t mean it was good. That only meant that he was in such a state of confusion he had to look up from the book to realize he was in Satan’s room. A faint memory came to mind of him waking up in the middle of the day and making his way here. But…it was all fuzzy. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be to say it felt like his memories were submerged underwater. There was a faint recognition of things, words, and moments, a faint recognition of his own feelings…of the things that had presented themselves, and how distant they felt to him.

But, it all just felt so out of place. He knew his body was somewhere in the House of Lamentation, but his mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Almost as if it was traveling through a cosmic place with all the answers he could ever need; to all the questions he could ever ask. But instead of looking at the answers, he was in the middle. Just starring at the everything of the world through the eyes of an spectator, and not through the eyes of someone that had his own live. Perhaps, if he just reached out into the overwhelming darkness of the water that submerged his entire being, he would feel better. But how to reach out to the unknown? What if what laid on the other end was worse than what he knew now? In the end he let out an audible groan and set the book back on the stand, a pout on his lips.

“This is impossible!” He was incredibly tired. His eyes heavy and mind completely gone as he yawned and turned to Satan who was smiling foolishly at his book. That’s right, Satan had stayed in the room as well, but it’s not like either of them had registered each other’s presence. He had tuned out of the world entirely, and he was sure Satan had done the same. Speaking of which, the blond demon had muttered something under his breath, before proceeding to chuckle.

How in the world did he manage to pay attention to something for so long, Asmodeus wondered, before a sigh escaped his lips as he decided he should just give up this meaningless search that had become his life. Maybe it was time he finally accepted that there was no way he would ever understand the yearning that had kept him awake for so many years in the house. The aching to be simply hugged by someone who wanted to hug him. Perhaps that’s how he was meant to be for eternity. Had his father made it so he would end up as the Avatar of Lust as a punishment so that Asmodeus never felt that?

“Please, you don’t believe him, right?”

Satan spoke once again. Making Asmodeus raise an eyebrow at him as he decided it was enough self-deprecating for a day. Leviathan had made him question his existence enough the other day. And so, he proceeded to approach Satan, standing behind the demons couch and looking over his shoulder at the pages of the book.

“What are you reading?” Satan jumped, hitting Asmodeus in the face with his book, making the lustful demon groan a little as his hand flew to his face, tears burning on the corner of his eyes as he glared at Satan. “What was that for?!” His comment effectively making the wrathful demon glare.

“Why were you reading over my shoulder?!” He snapped, glaring harder at Asmodeus which only made him scoff.

“I just wanted to know what you were reading, you jerk!” Satan stared at his brothers in confusion for a moment.

“…I thought you had gone back to your room already.” Satan’s sighs as he calms down, sitting in his original position.

“Well,” Asmodeus walked around the couch before propping himself on the other end of it. “you can be quite scary when we barrow your books. Hence why I was going to read it here and then go but…”

“But?”

“…I don’t know. I guess I just don’t have the attention span to spend hours reading.” Asmodeus shrugged, sitting on the couch before resting his back against the armrest, letting his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling. Breathing slower with each passing second, eyes drifting closed.

He was exhausted.

His eyes were heavy. He wasn’t hungry at all even if he had yet to eat anything since waking up. He was so incredibly tired, but during the night he couldn’t sleep. Part of him felt like it had been carrying with the same weight as Beel carried for hours on end, simultaneously feeling like his legs wouldn’t be able to take him anywhere. It didn’t help that his brothers had been acting so strange with all the space…but perhaps it was his fault for worrying them. After all, Belphie and Levi probably already had told the rest of their findings. Satan was the only one that still treated him with some degree of normality. And even so he knew he was trying to act…gentler with him.

“…you wanted to know to what the book was about?”

Heh, another confirmation of his suspicions. Satan’s voice made Asmo sit up, looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow before nodding. He might as well try to act like his whole world had not fallen apart a few nights ago and unlike each passing day was eating him alive to the point where even the simplest task would make him go into a frenetic state. Oh well, might as well try to keep up the act. He looked at Satan before nodding, the demon not letting go unnoticed the lack of usual spark his younger brother had.

“Yes!”

“Well, in that case” Satan sighed, closing the book and looking at the back, examining it for a few seconds before nodding once more. “Very well, the story is about those two strangers.” He starts, looking at Asmodeus. “Two strangers that become the most important thing the other has.”

“Eh?” Asmodeus answered involuntarily. Shifting in his sit as he looked at Satan properly now. It was a…interesting concept.

Two strangers. They meet in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by everyone yet no one at all. The voices are echoed by how confused and lonely they are. But then…then they see each other. Satan said that they didn’t necessarily feel the sentiments that that word imply. That word...the one that kept coming back to him and placing itself against everything Asmodeus knew. That same word was plastered all over the book, in each page, and even in the cover. But even so, Satan stated the book claimed to not be that. He said…it was about some kind of…superficial sentiment. Some kind of crush they had. A brief moment of passion the two shared for one another after just that one moment.

Satan went on to describe their journey. And how as they slowly got to know each other they started to actually fall into a more intense feeling. But, to be fair, Asmodeus had stopped listening the moment Satan had said the first few sentences. Two strangers. Two complete unknown persons, and yet they managed to feel a certain type of affection towards one another. From all the people he had met, to all those he had merely shared a bed with. No names exchanged, no number, no way to see each other again, to those recurring visitors whom he had even their birthmarks memorized…he didn’t feel like that with any of them.

Were there people that could actually experience that type of devotion? Perhaps it was all just made up. Yeah, there was no way that existed. Have a sudden romantic infatuation for one another? Just like that?! No, Asmodeus refused to believe something like that could happen. It didn’t make sense at all!

“…are you even listening?” Satan’s voice finally registered as he sighed, closing the book and setting it down. “You are free to leave if you are that bored-“

“I don’t understand.”

“You weren’t listening to me. Of course you wont understand.”

“What? No, that’s not what I mean!” Asmodeus protested, half glaring at Satan now. Damn it, he was so damn confused. First Leviathan told him there was an entirely different kind section of that word, which was reserved for friendship, and platonic relationships. And now Satan told him that it was possible for two people to fall in adoration with one another although they were complete strangers?! He could have sworn that each time he learned something new it just helped to…to make him despise his sin even more.

Asmodeus took the book from Satan’s hand, the bookmark he had placed neatly between the pages falling, the page being lost as Asmodeus opened the book and scanned the first page, almost immediately devouring the content of the book like Beel would do with a restaurant if not stopped.

“…I was reading that” Satan protested, glaring at Asmodeus as he got to take the bookmark from the floor. The demon turned to place it on a table, before looking at Asmodeus. He had bag under his eyes. Something his brother would have never let be shown in the past, or let it be seen by anyone at the very least. Be it by an extensive amount of makeup or by his hour-long beauty regimen, it was strange for Asmodeus to let show anything that he deemed a “flaw” in his skin. And the way he was reading the book…he was desperate. A desperation Satan had certainly never seen in any of his family members to this day. “…you can give it back once you are done.”

“Mhm, yeah” Asmodeus answered briefly as he got up and walked over to the door, hitting the wall on his way out as his eyes refused to leave the page.

For the next 4 days, Asmodeus did nothing but be enthralled on the pages of the book. To be fair, he had finished it on the second day, but he had been rereading it. Over, and over again. Each time more vigorously than the last, his eyes jumped entire paragraphs he knew gave no useful information to the questions he needed answers to. How could two strangers fall in such a way for one another? How could it be that two complete strangers could experience more feelings on their first meeting than he had on his long life?! From the celestial realm to this very moment, the only feeling he could remember was that of lust and perhaps pity…sadness. No other feeling had ever made its way to him in the nights before, but now, now it was different. He felt something, and he wanted a certain feeling.

To him it was almost a lie. From all his experiences, never had any of the demons or demoness he had been with looked at him with something other than lust. They never sought to make a conversation that went past the names and the “where are we doing this?” In his mind it was impossible that a feeling so deep be felt so easily. Because if it did…then what would that say about him?

On the fifth night, as the dusk hit the Devildom, under what was the bleak light of the stars coming through the window, Asmodeus finished the book for the third time. His eyes focusing on the very last line. Those words. Those three simple words being muttered from one person to another. And no more words. Not an explanation, not a reason, not even a damn hint of why they felt like that on that very night. Asmodeus could feel some tears burning on his eyes as he glared at the book and threw it on the nightstand beside his bed. The stupid book had only left him with the same exact question that had been plaguing his mind from the night of his revelation. He hid under his covers, ignoring the ache of his heart, and went to sleep, only to dream of his inner broken, soul, and the void.

The next day, he went to Satan’s room to give him his book back. Praying to the father that had hurt them for the demon to not be on his room and he wouldn’t need to even mutter a word. But of course, that wasn’t the case.

“Ah, Asmodeus, I’m guessing you finished the book?” Satan’s voice was heard, prompting a sigh from Asmodeus as he fully stepped onto the room. The demon was on the high end of a stepladder, reaching for one of the top shelves.

“…yeah.” He spoke on a defeated tone.

“Did you enjoy it?” Satan asked, looking at one of the books, taking it out of the shelve and dusting it off. Asmodeus thought for a second. Had he enjoyed it? Well, its not like he was all that invested in the story. His focus was more on finding answers than it was on indulging into the story. And so, he couldn’t even recall the name of the characters, or the name of the book. Much less if he had enjoyed its content. But if he had to give an answer… “Asmo-?”

“No” They spoke at the same time. Setting the book down on the table, just as Satan looked down at Asmo, raising an eyebrow. He was about to ask why, but it would seem Asmo beat him to it. “How can two complete strangers feel something like that?!” He spoke, not even having given his brother another look, passing around the restlessly . Asmodeus tone increased slightly as he walked around the couch, hands moving and gesturing to the book. “Isn’t that sentiment supposed to be worked and developed with time as you get to know the person?! Isn’t it supposed to take years for people to finally realize the extent of their true feelings for another person?! It can’t be that simple! It can’t be as simple as walking into some place and making eye contact and just…and feeling it!”

“You don’t have to shout!” Satan spoke louder as well, before sighing as he watched Asmodeus shoulders drop and look away. For a moment Satan stayed silent as he analyzed Asmodeus words, thinking back to what he had read of the book before finally speaking. “…they didn’t fall for each other. At least not at first.” He states, starting to go down the steps of the ladder.

“Eh?!” Well that was a lie, Asmodeus thought. “Yes they did. The book describes it the first time they meet! They-”

“And upon their eyes meeting it was like the music faded. The bodies dancing around became shadows, all surrounded in black like the rest of their lives, only for the still barely noticeable grayish color the other made them see. With each step they took towards the other, the color became more vibrant, bright. They were like fire on a pitch black room for the other, and they smiled. For the first time, it wasn’t a calm or sweet smile. It was a nervous awkward smile, as they barely managed to announce their names. As they barely managed to exist close to the other.”

Satan finished quoting the book, making Asmodeus stare blankly at the demon as he frowned.

“Show off...” he remarked under his breath, just as Satan reached the last step, sighing. Instead of hopping onto the ground and walking over to Asmodeus he sat down, giving Asmo a look that made him step closer.

“The way it was described, the nervousness and awkwardness…I don't think they fell for each other, at least not in that very moment. Sure, they wanted to meet and get to know the other. And they found the other interesting, and upon that conversation is that they became important to one another…but I don’t think it was as intense as you think it was. It felt more…innocent.”

Innocence…that was something Asmodeus used to be familiar with. But he had lost touch with it the moment his body hit the grounds of the Devildom. Once he discovered this new world and all the things his body was capable of…the things his body wanted, he become detached from that part. Never did he imagine he would be missing that side of him. The side that didn’t need to be touched to be validated, and simply spending time laughing and talking would be enough to make him feel important. He wished he could go back to the moments where he wasn’t aware of anything at all. He missed not being himself. How cruel of the universe. To put right in front of him the description of what he had felt during those first encounters…the feeling he no longer experienced. The feeling of being alive as his skin was set ablaze by the wonderful sensations now he would hid from.

“…how cruel.” Asmodeus whispered, as he proceeded to sit beside Satan on the same step, resting his head on his brothers’ shoulder without thinking, their shoulders bumped together as Satan looked carefully at his brother.

“Cruel?” He raises an eyebrow.

“So…at first…they really didn’t feel anything for each other?”

“…I wouldn’t say that. They certainly felt something…but it isn’t the type of sentiment you thought it was. Truth be told…I think those two were so desperate to feel happiness and desired…that they fell in **** with the idea of a relationship and being wanted…and then it slowly morphed into what they had at the end. True, absolute devotion.”

Asmodeus stayed quiet at the mention of the word. But on his mind, there was such a turmoil that only grew with each passing moment. He didn’t know what he was missing. But he knew that when he found it, he would feel…whole. But each time he went to try and find it, he only came back with a bigger puzzle to resolve and with barely any pieces to put it together. With barely any grasping understanding of the subject that was torturing him night after night.

“…I still don’t understand.” He pouted, making Satan chuckle as he leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows as he tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling.

“Yeah, I think that’s the point. It isn’t something that we are ever going to understand. Not fully, at the very least, it’s just…it’s just something that is.” Satan sighed, before looking back at Asmo who still had the same expression. A lost one. “…but that’s better. In my opinion, at least. What fun is there to have in a question that is so easily answered?” Satan merely got a hum out of Asmo this time.

But the demon was listening. And he was wondering. Perhaps his brother was right…but he was not about to give up finding a concrete answer. After all, it was the only thing driving him at this point.

Ludus: Flirtation, playful, lively. The discovery of a crush, its rooted on having fun.

****

Hello~, I hope you all had enjoyed this chapter. This chapter was so hard to write, honestly. Mainly because I didnt know how to have Satan make the connection and explain it to Asmo, but here it is, and I really hope you all enjoyed it! next chapter will be published on Saturday like usual, until then!

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jean-kayak · 3 years

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Chapter 17

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: angst lmao that’s really all i can say without spoiling anything

Word Count: 2581

A/N: This is another FLASHBACK, and this will be the last one for the rest of the series, but after this, it goes pretty downhill lmfao

Tags: @iwascrybaby, @styxtm, @germinvasion, @prxttyguardian, @bigdaddyzawa, @kbbvbz, @tomsadversary, @kqtsukisgf, @pettyluxury, @protectpancakes

Chapter Summary: Words can hurt. Like really, really bad.

If you ever wanted a time to be good at holding back your tears, it would be right now. Final exams are coming up, so your stress levels are already through the roof, and to make it even worse, your teacher for interior design basically told you that your project was a failure and that you're going to have to start over. Today is Friday.

It's due Monday.

You're sitting on one of the benches in the main lobby of the high school, waiting for your ride, and you just can't stand being at school any longer. You're looking down, hoping no one who's still wondering through the hallways after almost everyone's left looks your way.

You freeze when you hear a familiar voice, and you feel a new fresh wave of tears roll down your face. You hear Eren laughing with his friends, and you keep your gaze down, refusing to look up as you wipe the tears from your eyes.

And you hate how your body sheds more tears at just the sound of his voice, and you blame it on the fact that you're already stressed. He "rejected" you a long time ago, so there's no reason for you to still be pining over someone you're never going to be with.

You keep sniffling due to the fact that you're looking down, and you're hoping he walks past you soon without looking your way at all. When you feel someone lightly nudge your head, you feel your heart drop. "Hey." His voice is soft, and that just seems to make you more upset. "What's wrong?"

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on your shoes. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Bullshit." You sigh as you look away from your shoes. He definitely is the most stubborn person you've met, and you're best friends with Jean.

"It's true. There's nothing wrong," you repeat. "Now, I'm pretty sure you'd rather be with your friends than with me, so you can go." You wipe your face with your sleeve, sniffling again which doesn't help your case.

"Look at me and say that." You feel yourself clench your hands into fists at his stupid fucking persistence, looking up at him, and you refuse to believe that you see his face soften when you look at him. "What the hell happened?" he asks, and you shake your head again.

"Like I told you, it's nothing. You wouldn't care." This is what you tell yourself, you're pretty sure it's the truth anyway. There's no way he would actually care about how you're doing.

"Where'd you get that from?" he questions in disbelief, and you scoff as you look back down at your hands, flexing your fingers as you relax them.

You shrug. "I don't know. It's just something I assumed."

"Well, it's a stupid assumption," he tells you before he sighs. "Come on, let's go." You look up at him, raising your eyebrows. "Tell whoever's picking you up that I'm taking you home." You scoff again as you shake your head.

"Eren, I already told you, I'm fine. I don't need you treating me like a baby," you respond, your words coming out more aggressive than you wanted.

"Come on, Y/N, you know I don't look at you that way. Now, let's just go." You roll your eyes as you look in the opposite direction of him, cursing yourself when you feel more tears brimming your eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you'd rather hang out with your friends than me. They're more important than I am." You didn't realize how self-deprecating you got in your head when you tried to get over your stupid crush.

"Who told you that?" He sounds angry now, and you can't hold the tears in anymore, more falling down your face as you shake your head.

"No one." I did. You try to hold back the sob rising in your chest, but it slips out, and you suddenly feel a hand on your wrist pulling you up from the bench before an arm is around your shoulders, leading you out of the school.

You find yourself sitting at that same booth in the ice cream parlor, this time barely putting a dent in your ice cream. "You can start on the work now. Just get a little bit done while you sit here," Eren says, and you shake your head, giving him a small shrug.

"No, I'll probably just wait till I get home. I'm sure you've got somewhere else to be, don't wanna hold you up."

You don't look up when he leans forward, resting his arms on the table. "Who's telling you all this shit?" You can't help but feel pathetic. You can't say yourself because then you'll feel even more stupid.

"No one, it doesn't matter." You put a spoon of ice cream in your mouth to stop you from saying anything else. You glance at him, and you know that he can tell that you're not telling the truth or that there's something else underlining your words, and you hate how much of an open book you are.

"Seriously, Y/N, do the work. I have nothing else to do." He leans back in the booth, eating some of his ice cream to emphasize his point, and you sigh heavily before you slide your ice cream to the slide and start pulling out the stuff you need to start on the toughest thing you currently have to deal with.

You're actually pretty immersed in your work, your notebooks and binder spread out all over the table, pens and colored pencils littering the surface, and you just happen to look around to see a pencil in Eren's hand. He seems pretty focused, and you chew on your lip nervously before you set your pencil down, flexing your fingers that are starting to hurt.

"What are you doing?" you ask cautiously, and he looks up at you through his lashes before he lifts his head up.

"Drawing," he responds easily, and you nod, remembering how Jean said that he had started to take it up.

"Drawing what?" you push softly, and he responds with an easy shrug.

"Stuff, I guess," he responds, and you raise your eyebrows as you give him an easy smile.

"Can I see?" He easily slides the book over to you, and you pick it up, setting it on top of your stuff. Your eyes widen when they land on the different sketches spanning across the two pages you're looking at. "You're amazing," is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, and you're really at a loss for words.

You didn't know what you were expecting, but they're way better than what you thought. "I would hang these up in my room," you say, and you keep your attention on the drawings as you hear him chuckle softly.

"I don't think they're that good," he contradicts, and you scoff as you look up at him.

"Are you kidding me? You're seriously amazing," you emphasize before passing the book back to him. "What?" you ask when you notice that he's staring at you.

He hesitates for a second, not saying anything as he looks down at the table before looking back at you. "Can I draw you?"

You blink in surprise before you let out a depreciating chuckle. "You wanna draw an ugly girl with dried tear tracks on her face?"

"I want to draw a girl who is not ugly, and who is going to finish her project and get the best grade in the class," he counters quickly, and you chew on your lip softly as you try to fight the heat rising to your face.

"If you want to," you respond softly. "What do you want me to do?" you ask, fiddling with the pencil in your hand nervously.

"Just keep doing what you're doing." You respond with a small nod before turning back to your work, feeling a little bit weird now that Eren's watching you, but you're soon back to being absorbed into your work, nearly forgetting that he was drawing you in the first place.

Eren decides to leave once you have most of your project drafted, almost ready to work on the final result. "Can I see that drawing?" you ask as you pack your backpack up.

"It's really bad," he says, and you roll your eyes just as you zip up your bag.

"I know that's not true," you object, and he chuckles softly before sliding out of the booth.

"I'll show you one day. Come on, let's get you home," he says, nodding his head towards the door, and you walk out of the ice cream parlor feeling a lot lighter than when you came in.

^^^

The end of your freshman year of high school passed in a blur even though you swore you had those weeks where it felt like it took forever for them to end. You barely made it through your exams unscathed, your brain feeling like it had been fried ten times over, but now you had the summer to look forward to.

Eren had a graduation party, and the only reason why you were there was that Jean got to invite some of his friends because his mom didn't want him to feel left out. You two were the only ones there though, most of them not wanting to be surrounded by a bunch of former seniors or either having things to do.

You went to obviously hang out with Jean, but once more people started showing up, that's when you realized that this probably wasn't the best idea. You and Jean were able to take refuge in his room for the time being, and you couldn't go to your house because Jean's mom was making him stay for at least a couple of hours.

Jean wasn't happy about it, so you listened to him complain for at least an hour about that before he switched the subject onto you. He started asking you about your relationship with Eren, and he wasn't happy when you told him that sometimes he would take you to get ice cream. "What's so wrong with it?" you ask, and he just shrugs.

"I just don't like it," he replies, making your frown deeper. "Do you like him?" The sudden question makes you jump slightly, and you try to mask the nervousness in your chuckle.

"What do you mean? Like if I--"

"Y/N," he cuts you off, his voice telling you there's no point in beating around the bush, and you sigh heavily as you pick at the side of your cup.

"No? I don't..." you trail off, not really knowing how to answer. "It doesn't matter," you conclude.

Eren causes your feelings to be all over the place. One moment, you're fine, it's like you're over him, and then he'll do something like bringing you to the ice cream parlor to make you feel better, and then those feelings explode all over again.

"I'm going to get something to drink," you say, quickly standing up and walking out of his room. You maneuver through the mass of people, the house seeming to be stuffy from how many people are inside, probably due to the heat outside.

You slide past a bunch of people before you decide that you need a breather. You make your way to the back door, sliding it open just enough for you to fit through before closing it behind you. You release a sigh that slumps your shoulders when it feels cooler outside than it does inside. You walk away from the view of the door, leaning against the house so that no one can see you.

You're about to sit down when you hear voices coming from the side of the house. You make your footsteps light as you tiptoe across the deck, and you keep your back against the wall as you look around the corner, feeling an uneasy feeling settle over you when you see Eren talking with his friends.

Eren and Will are sitting next to each other in cheap lawn chairs while Porco leans against the wall, cigarette lit in his mouth. The conversation is nothing to really pay attention to, but once you rest your head against the wall, out of their sight is what catches your ears. "You ever get that whole crush thing sorted out with Y/N?" Will asks the question, and you can feel your heart starting to pound.

"Yeah, she said it wasn't true," you hear Eren respond and a scoff follows it.

"Yeah, right. Don't tell me you believed that." It's Porco that speaks this time, and you bite your lip as your hands dig into the brick against your back. "It was so obvious, it's almost sad."

"Like I said, she denied it," Eren repeats, and you want to leave, but your feet are glued to the ground.

"And then you were hanging out with her," Porco continues. "Like you had a crush on her, too," he jokes.

"Fuck off, man," Eren says. "I was only nice to her because she's Jean's best friend. Trust me, that's the only reason why I put up with her."

You think you physically feel your heart break. The tears are brimming in your eyes, and they spill as you turn in the opposite direction towards your house, your walking soon turning into running, not stopping when your parents ask you what's wrong, and you close your door, locking it before pulling the covers over yourself and crying so hard, you fall asleep.

Coming up with a lie to tell your parents wasn't easy, you roping in Jean to help you, and you both just said that you had gotten into a meaningless fight, but you're fine now. Jean was livid when you told him what happened, but you told him not to do anything. For one, Eren was way bigger than him, and two, Eren was about to leave so there was no point.

Jean only came to your house to hang out, and you never stepped foot back into Jean's house until Eren had left for college. Sometimes Eren would text you, but you never looked at it. You would swipe the notification away, and slowly the texts stopped coming in.

You obviously knew that it could never work between the two of you, but why did he have to say that about you? Was that true? You didn't want to believe it, but he seemed so serious that it makes you cry all over again. It just makes all of those moments you had together mean absolutely nothing, and it makes you want to punch the memories out of your head.

You didn't go see him when he left, you telling your parents that you weren't feeling that well, and Jean came over to tell you that he was gone. It took you a lot longer to get over him than you wanted, but you made sure to distract yourself for the whole summer, and Jean helped you.

You didn't tell anyone else what happened and neither did Jean, and even though it caused a deep wound, you were slowly but surely starting to heal, and Eren deciding that he wasn't going to come back often made it easier for you.

You didn't have to see him ever again, and you used that to aid in your healing process.

|Chapter 16|Masterlist|Chapter 18|

#nothing changed #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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coloraturadiva · 4 years

Text

A mistake - Chapter 3

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x F!Reader (You)

Summary: Napoleon realises he had made a mistake

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Warnings: angst, fluff, pregnancy (I’m sure I forgot something...)

Word Count: 2692

A/N: a special thank you to my lovely beta @iloveyouyen ! This is the third and last chapter of this story, I hope you’ll like it 😉

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

Feedback, reblogs and constructive criticism are appreciated!

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome!

Tagging some people that never asked for it and others that actually did: @iloveyouyen @littlefreya @aletheladyinred @madbaddic7ed @promptandpros @mrsaugustwalker @jencanbeyouryengeralt @radaofrivia @henrythickcavill @ladyreapermc @mary-ann84 @onlyhenrys @qualitynightkoala @eefjedegraaf @summersong69 @minillamakeup-blog @trippedmetaldetector @maan24 @bichibibi @rn7rocks

Knock knock

“What are you doing here?”

There he was. You had heard no words from him for the past 2 weeks. As he said, he came to the house the day after he left to collect his things when you were at work and left his keys in the mailbox.

Now he stood on your doorstep looking like he was the one suffering from morning sickness. He was looking terrible, not his usual spit and polish self. Pale, his lips dehydrated, the eyes dull and puffy, the hair messy: he looked like he had aged 20 years in 14 days.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course” you felt unsure about his intentions, but you let him in nevertheless . “This is still your house anyway”. You didn't hear a word from him or his lawyer. You had expected a phone call or even papers delivered to you in a couple of days, but nothing happened, and you thought that he had been whisked away on a mission before having the time to arrange the situation with a lawyer.

“What do you want?” you asked him, not daring to look at him in the eye, fearing you'd burst out crying. You had cried so much during the past weeks that you thought you had no more tears in you, but his sudden appearance made you feel teary all over again.

“I left two very important things there” he answered in a soft, but raspy tone. Even his voice didn't sound like it used to be.

“Really?” you tried to sound polite, even if a million of different emotions were raging in your head: anger, fear, sorrow, loneliness, the urge to kiss him one last time... “What? I haven't seen anything...”

“My wife and my baby”.

“What?” your head span. You didn't trust your legs and went to sit on the closest seat you could find: an armchair in the parlour.

He followed you, terrified. His face turned even paler than before.

“What happened? Are you unwell?” he kneeled in front of you, his voice trembled with worry.

Your head snapped up. You looked at him in the eye for a second and... slapped him. You slapped him with all the force you had in your body. Maybe slapping a CIA agent wasn't the best idea for your safety, but you couldn't help yourself. He had to steady himself on the nearby sofa not to fall.

“YOU IDIOT! You come here out of nowhere after having left your PREGNANT wife and you even have the courage to ask me what happened and if I am unwell?! Of course I'm unwell, you broke my heart!” you were flushed, your breath laboured.

He looked at you wide eyed.

“I'm so sorry...” he began in a pleading tone, looking at his hands: he was still wearing his wedding band. Like you. “I panicked. I fucked it all up big time. I know I don't deserve to ask for anything and I'll understand if you won't get me back, but I had to try. I couldn't let go of everything we have built this way. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I hadn't tried to get you back.”

“You did, all with your hands” you retorted bitterly.

“I know. And I'm the most stupid and undeserving man in the world. But I'm madly in love with you and I can't let you go for any reason.”

“Except an unwanted child” you bashed him.

He bowed his head.

“I... I wasn't expecting it. Coming home and seeing you with a bump...”

“No, you never wanted it, it's not the surprise factor. That would have caused you to stay speechless, to panic for ten minutes, to say something stupid, not to leave me in less than two minutes, without giving me the opportunity to explain, with those bitter words.”

“Bitter words?” he asked lost.

“I knew a baby would have come to separate us. That's what you said. It's not the baby's fault! How can it be? It's your fault! You went away treating me like a broken object, without even looking at me. Not even an animal deserves to be treated that way! And you started to talk about divorce papers in less than three seconds after having realised I was pregnant. That broke my heart, you know that? That physically broke my heart! That evening I thought I was gonna die right on the floor, where you had left me! And why did you do that? Because things weren’t going like you wanted, because I displeased you! How awful! And it happened ONCE. Once in all the years we have been together! Well, sorry, but I was not born with the sole purpose to please your cravings and your ego, I’m human too and I have my interests and my wishes as well. You always knew, from the very start, that I wanted to build a family with you, but you were so obsessively against the idea of having kids that I renounced my own wishes because I wanted to be with you. I’m sure you believe that I did get pregnant on purpose, but I didn’t do it, I swear. I was as surprised as you when I found out. I’m not the one that goes behind other people's backs, you are... So you wanted to punish me for something that’s not my fault, or, at least, is your fault as well. Of course! You are the important one here, while I’m the stupid, lovesick woman that offended you by getting pregnant, but I’ll never feel sorry about loving my baby! You can’t throw away people like a broken toy because things aren’t going like you have planned. I won’t accept it.”

He felt ashamed of himself like he never felt in his whole life. Stealing, the black market, spying, that was nothing compared to what he had done to you without even realizing.

“And you know what's the worst part of it?” you continued. “That I loved you. I kept on loving you anyway. Even if you had treated me so bad, I couldn't bring myself to hate you. Hating you would have made everything easy, but it was impossible. When I arrived home after work the day after you left, I hoped to find you there, or at least that you hadn't come to take away your things. That would have meant that you were in doubt, that you were still thinking about it. But when I arrived home, I saw that all was gone. Your wardrobe was empty, your drawers were empty, your library was empty, even the comforting smell of you was gone from this house. My heart broke yet again. It was really the end...”

You started sobbing, all the emotions of the past weeks washed over you at once. You felt overwhelmed.

"Do you want to know why I left?" he asked looking at the floor after having taken a deep breath. "Because I'm scared…"

"Oh, don't tell me!" you answered sarcastically. "The hero, the great secret agent is scared of a baby! Please, I'm not that stupid…"

"I'm not scared OF a baby." He whispered. "I'm scared FOR the baby. And for you".

"What?" you asked not getting his point. What was to be scared about? Women get pregnant and babies are born everyday. It's normal, it's natural.

"I… I've always been worried about your safety…" he hesitated. "You know who I am, you know what I have done, you know what I do… I can't control everything, I can't be here to protect you all the time. I'm constantly worried that one day someone could decide to seek revenge against me by hurting you. It's something that has been burning me from the inside since the very first time I saw you. I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. You don't deserve it, it's not right. I've done my fair share of bad things, but you are innocent, you shouldn't be in this mess… But you are right, I'm an egoist. Even if I wanted you to be safe, I loved you too much, I wanted you to be mine… Even if it was a risk for you… That's why I never wanted a baby. Thinking of you being in danger is already a big hardship for me, but a baby… That's too much. That's not a life for a baby. I know very well how it hurts you having me to stay away on missions all that time, not knowing if I'll come back all in one piece. That's wrong. A baby and a young mother shouldn't be living like that… That's why I panicked, that's why I left. I thought that with me gone, maybe you could have been safe, you could have built a new and better life for the two of you. Maybe with a better man… That’s it. I panicked and in my head, going away was a way to protect you..." he paused for long minutes, playing nervously with his wedding ring. "What can I do to make amends?” he begged. “Please, tell me.”

You kept on crying. You had no idea. You loved him, but he had hurt you so much you didn't know what you really wanted.

He was devastated. Seeing you crying, so trembling and fragile and all because of him made him feel physically sick.

He didn't think too much about it, or at the consequences: he went to sit on the armrest of the armchair and took you into his arms. He didn't move, he didn't caress you, he just held you still.

At first you were stiff, unsure about the unexpected contact, but soon enough you melted in his arms. It felt so good to be back where you felt you belonged after such a long time. You were unsure if you could ever forgive him, but you also knew that you couldn't live without him.

“What made you change your mind?” you suddenly asked in a whisper. “Why did you come here today?”

“You. Both of you.” He hesitated, his voice trembled. He sounded deeply emotional. “I mean, I love you. It's you, it's our baby. I don't want you to be with another man… I want to see our baby grow… I know it's a risk and I don’t know if I can protect you, but at least I want to try. I can't let you go… "

“Our baby” you sobbed.

“Yes, of course you were right. Like you are always right. It takes two to make a baby. I can't blame everything on you. I'm sure I did my part… I’m just a scared idiot, but I love you. It only took me too long to realise how much I love you and how important you and the baby are for me. More important than my fears.”

“The baby as well?”

“Yes, the baby as well. I love both of you so much”.

You sighed. He sounded like he meant his words. He sounded like himself again. A tired Napoleon, but your Napoleon.

“I... Your... Your grandmother visited me.”

“My grandmother? How? I don't know where you are staying now. How does she?”

“She probably has been a secret agent for all her life and never told a soul. I can't find a different explanation” he smiled. “Her methods are also quite... effective. I was there, tormenting myself to decide when was the best moment to come to you, if today was too soon, or already too late, when she knocked on my door, stormed in and gave me a lecture. She talked for 15 minutes straight, I think. She didn't let me say a word. And she beat me with her walking stick.”

“WHAT?”

“I told you her methods are effective. I said something that displeased her, and she wanted to make it clear.”

“You probably deserved it...”

“Indeed. I deserved that and your slap too.”

“You had already decided to come back before her visit?” you changed the subject.

“Yes. Two days after I left you, when I found myself with all my things in a house that wasn't ours and without you and having left you alone, I realised that I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“That was nearly two weeks ago...”

“I know, but I didn't have the courage to come, I had no idea what to say...”

“And waiting made a difference?”

“Yes, because the more the days passed, the more I was sure that I missed you and that leaving you alone wasn’t the best way to keep you and the baby safe. I realised that I made a big mistake. Not being with you was a mistake… By leaving you I was only hurting you, not protecting you...”

You both fell silent. One secretly praying to not have ruined it all with his own hands, the other reflecting on her feelings, trying to understand if forgiveness was an option.

“Could you ever forgive me?” he asked tentatively after several minutes, still holding you in his arms.

“No.”

He froze. He felt like he had been slapped again. But more forcefully, this time.

“I already did. The moment I let you in, I had already subconsciously forgiven you. I love you too much to live without you, I want to have you there with me. And you came back to me...” you sighed. “You know I can't stay mad at you for too long...” you softly smiled.

“Even after what I did?” he still didn't dare to look you in the eye.

“Even after what you did... I would like to believe that I'm doing it for the baby's sake, but the truth is that I'm doing it for myself. I'm terribly greedy when it comes to you.”

He dared to kiss you on the top of your head. You didn't resist.

It felt so good. It felt simply right.

You suddenly disentangled from his arms and got up from the armchair. You started to walk away.

Napoleon was startled. What was happening? Why did you start to move so suddenly? The kiss was too much?

“Come with me”. He heard your voice from the corridor and bolted in your direction.

He caught up with you in the guest room.

You turned to face him, standing close to a big box.

"Yesterday I saw this crib in a shop and even if it's a bit early, I had to buy it. But I'll need your help to put it together" you smiled weakly.

Napoleon looked at the big box. It was white, decorated with cute pastel green Teddy bears. He always had a penchant for beautiful (and expensive) things, he was an expert in art and antiquities anyway, and was used to treating himself with ridiculously expensive clothes, but had never paid attention to these kinds of things, thinking they would never interest him. However, right now that box looked to him as magnificent as a Raffaello painting.

He neared you gingerly, afraid of doing something wrong.

"Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to put this crib together with you. And all the rest of the things for the baby. And us. I want us to be together...” you trailed off.

“I miss you”.

“I miss you too.”

You looked down at your growing belly.

“Come here” you threw your arms around his neck. One of Napoleon's hands went instinctively to your belly. You looked carefully at his face. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but was trying hard not to break apart in front of you.

“How are you?” he sounded suddenly concerned about your health. “How do you feel?”

You cupped his cheek.

“I'm good now” you smiled at him.

“I'm sorry. For everything” he uttered, deep affliction clearly ringing in his voice. "You'll be safe. Both of you. I promise…"

“I know” you answered softly. “Let's forget about the past weeks, shall we? Let's start anew from today.”

“I love you Y/N”.

“I love you Napoleon”.

Thanks to everyone who read my story and made it to the end! 😘

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #napoleon solo #napoleon solo fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #the man from uncle #napoleonxreader #napoleonsoloxreader #napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo x you #xyou #napoleon solo x female!reader #female!reader #female reader #wrinting

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

Text

Standards of Performance, Chapter 6: Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Finally, I write most of the chapter before the day I’m supposed to post it. This was mostly done on my laptop (which I’m not used to) as we just moved and my PC is barely set up, so forgive anything that looks weird or wonky. As always, I hope you enjoy. I love getting all your kind messages <3 (Also message me if you want to be on the taglist - I suppose I should be better about that!)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 6, Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter Summary: Events during a new case test your ability to keep your feelings hidden, and a night out takes an unforeseen turn.

Words: 3736

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Turns out, lying to Hotch was easier than you thought.

It helped that you were lying to yourself too, of course - that you pretended your gaze didn't linger on his form whenever he was in your vicinity, that the swell of pride in your chest when he agreed with something you said was purely professional. There were times, though, that the facade was much harder to maintain. The most recent case had been one of those times.

You had been tracking down an unsub abducting children in a rural Iowa town. Three kids had gone missing in the span of two weeks, and after Garcia matched the victimology and MO with neighboring states, it looked to be close to a dozen in the years before that. The case started off rough enough - locals refused to believe it could be one of their own, police resisted the BAU’s guidance, the usual - but it came to a head when a fourth child went missing during the investigation.

Thankfully, the team figured out the identity of the unsub relatively quickly. Reid did a geographical profile of all the locations where victims were taken and found a public health clinic that had branches in each area. Garcia cross-checked the employee records to find that only one doctor had done travel shifts at each clinic during the time the children were taken, and within minutes, you were rushing to his address.

The SUV carrying Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss arrived long enough before yours that by the time you pulled up, they were already kicking down the door and entering the home. The first thing you heard after you flung the car door open was the deafening crack of a weapon firing, and despite your lack of training with firearms, it was apparent that it was not an FBI-issue pistol.

You would never describe yourself as fragile - you couldn't be, not in this line of work. But when you registered the implications of that sound, your knees buckled, instantly bringing you down onto the dusty ground outside the farmhouse. The rest of the team sprinted in, guns drawn. You faintly registered Prentiss yelling inside, then more gunshots, but your head was ringing so loudly from the visceral panic that you couldn’t make out anything specific.

When Hotch burst back out onto the porch, you thought you might honestly sob with relief. That is, until you caught the glint of the sun in the slick, dark blood dripping down the sleeve of his suit.

That was when you puked.

Something about the sight of Aaron Hotchner bleeding felt so wrong that even as you struggled to your feet and stepped over the pile of sick you left in the dirt, even as you got closer and saw the rivulets of blood drip down to his fingertips and dot the wooden floors of the porch, you felt like you were in a dream. Your mind couldn’t grasp the sudden shock of his mortality, that he could bleed, that he could die, even, and he very well might, depending on what vessels were hit. You made it up the steps, only managing to call out his name - his first name - your throat still burning from bile. Despite the chaos of the current moment, he still whipped his head around at the sound of that, as if hearing the name Aaron desperately falling from your lips was more attention-grabbing than the rest of the team gathering around him trying to stem the bleeding.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Rossi, peering through the holes in Hotch’s mangled sleeve. “It was just buckshot, and he barely hit you. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

He turned out to be right, thank god, and later that afternoon, Hotch was freshly bandaged and sitting across from you on the return flight to Quantico.

So, yeah, the “lying to yourself” thing wasn’t going so well at that moment. Hotch was absorbed in paperwork while the rest of the team napped - because of course he was; even being shot didn’t sway his apparently relentless refusal to relax - and each time he winced at the movement of his arm, your vice grip around your chest tightened a little more.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up, frown softening slightly as he saw the concern on your face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he assured you with a half smile.

Teetering on an emotional precipice, too scared to respond for fear of falling over the edge, you went back to your reading. After a few minutes of listening to him write while not turning a single page in your book, he set his pen down and took a breath.

“You were screaming my name,” he said, quietly, despite you two being the only ones awake.

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarified, “when we went into the house. I could hear you outside, yelling my name.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I did. I heard the shotgun go off. Clearly,” you gestured at his arm, “I had a reason to be worried.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, as if you didn’t understand the question. “Dave and Emily were with me. Any of us could have gotten hit. You only yelled for me.”

Oh.

You shrugged. “You’re the team leader. It’s my instinct to call for you when something goes wrong."

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Hotch gave you an unreadable look and let the subject drop.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and when you finally made it back to your apartment, you had no plans other than to sleep off the stress of the case and the embarrassment of Hotch calling your actions into question. Garcia, however, wasn't about to let that happen.

BAU-tiful People Group Chat

Garcia: *added You to the conversation*

Garcia: Ok, my lovely children, I know you’re all tired, but I miss your faces, so I’ll see u at Whimsy tonight at 9! Notice I didn’t use a question mark bc it is NOT a question!

You knew from overhearing the team talk that Whimsy was a bar downtown they liked to frequent, but you’d never been invited before. Despite your overwhelming exhaustion, the idea of going out with the team, of finally feeling accepted by them, was enough to make you amenable to the concept. It may have seemed insignificant on the surface, but Garcia adding you to their group chat was the biggest welcome gesture you’d received yet.

Morgan: Only if you wear that dress you know I like ;)

You lived for the day they would realize they were actually flirting with each other instead of just pretending to.

Prentiss: Garcia… you’re killing me… but you know I’ll be there.

JJ: Contacting the babysitter as we speak.

Morgan: Fuck yeah!!! Pretty Boy, you in?

Reid: Can’t we ever go somewhere quiet?

As the group chimed in with various iterations of, “Shut up, Reid,” you hesitantly typed out a text to confirm your attendance. You were excited, of course, but nervous to be the new kid at their favorite hangout. After today's events, though, the desire not to be sober won out over nerves.

You: I’ll be there! Thanks for the invite!

Rossi: Hope you kids are ready for me to drink you under the table, as usual.

Morgan: Eyyy, you KNOW we party hard! See y’all tonight.

____________

Turns out, Morgan was not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. By the time you arrived, 15 minutes late, everyone looked to be at least 3 shots deep. Garcia ran over to greet you, squealing, and wrapped you in a suffocating hug.

“I’m so glad you came! What do you drink? Tequila? I’ll grab the next round!”

You laughed and confirmed that tequila sounded great, and as she scurried off to the bar with Morgan on her heels, you had a chance to look around.

The atmosphere of the club surprised you - it was all glass and steel and modernity, packed with people dancing to something with intense bass - not the low-key joint you’d pictured the team wanting to unwind at. But as you watched JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi cheer on Reid as he threw back a shot, doubling over in hysterics as he coughed and sputtered at the taste, you realized that this place was just loud and energetic enough to keep them from thinking about anything other than work. In that way, you definitely saw the appeal.

“I come bearing shots!” Garcia yelled as her and Morgan made it back to the table. “Grab yours… here we go- whoops! Alright, everyone got theirs?”

She turned to you, grinning behind a pair of hot pink spectacles. “Cheers not ONLY to rescuing four kidnapped children alive, but also to our lovely intern and her first Whimsy outing!”

The team erupted in cheers and you smiled back, downing the tequila. You chatted with the group while Garcia ordered more drinks, and then more drinks, and soon you felt a pleasant buzz filling your head.

“Morgan, you better ask me to dance right now before I go find another man to do the job,” Garcia said with a wink in his direction.

Morgan grinned and mock-bowed, holding out a hand for her to take, and led her off to the dancefloor.

“Should we join them?” JJ asked around the table.

“Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t do anything worth getting kicked out for,” Prentiss shot back. You giggled and followed the girls, leaving Rossi and Reid behind at the table in the midst of a heated debate about childhood brain development that you couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

Not long after you started dancing, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and turned around, looking up into the stunning green eyes of a man who looked to be about your age. It was hard to really tell what he looked like in the dim lighting, but by the way Prentiss was giving you a thumbs up and mouthing, “Go for it,” from your side, he was good enough for you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked above the music. You smiled and nodded in confirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to his hips.

He knew how to move, that was for certain. He ground against your backside lightly, snaking his hands around your stomach. You weren’t used to this kind of thing - dancing with random men at bars, letting them touch you like this - but the combination of the music and the booze and the relief at the last case being over was making you feel more free than you had in recent memory.

You exchanged grins with Morgan, who was dancing a few feet away in a much more R-rated manner with Garcia. The man behind you (whose name you didn’t know, but who cared?) leaned down to kiss your neck and you arched against him in response, reaching up to run your hand through his hair.

Throughout the song, you had rotated back to facing the table where the rest of your team was sitting. You glanced over, saw Reid and Rossi still deep in discussion, along with another man in a black button-up with a very familiar side profile and-

Hotch.

Hotch was here, and as if the powers that be were insistent upon proving to you that the opposite of serendipity existed, at the exact moment you had that realization, he turned and made direct eye contact with you. Drunk, wearing a skintight dress, a random man grinding on your ass, and staring right back at your Unit Chief at the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and if you had been drunker, you might have hurled tequila all over the dancefloor. Instead, you pulled away from the mystery man behind you, ignoring his shocked, “Wait!” and beelined to the bar.

“Tequila. Shot. Please, I’m sorry, just saw someone I didn’t expect to,” you blurted out to the bartender, swearing you could feel Hotch’s eyes on your back from across the club.

The bartender, probably having seen much worse, nodded in understanding and poured your drink. You gulped it down, wiped your mouth, and leaned on the bar to get your bearings.

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s a bar, it’s outside of work hours, it’s perfectly fine that you’re buzzed and dancing and having fun. Everyone else is!

Really, it wasn’t that you were worried about your job, or even that he would judge you (he probably would, but that was unavoidable regardless of the setting), it was just that you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for the possibility that he would come. He was in the group chat - obviously, if he had seen Garcia’s invite - but had never struck you as the social type, the kind of boss that would interact with his team outside of work.

“Did you see that Hotch is here?” Prentiss asked breathlessly, appearing at the bar beside you.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one surprised.

“I did,” you whispered back, despite the thumping music and the rowdy patrons making it logically impossible for your words to reach the table 20 feet away. “Does he usually join you guys?”

“Never,” she said, before thinking and correcting herself, “Not in years, anyways. When Haley… we used to drag him out, but we stopped after a while.”

“Why do you think he came tonight?"

She shrugged. “Who knows? Far be it from me to explain why Hotch does anything.” An idea seemed to pop in her head, and she grinned. “Maybe it’s because of you!”

“M-me?” Your reaction to the suggestion wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as you’d tried for, but Prentiss was too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, gotta help initiate the intern on her first night out, right?” She grinned and clapped you on the shoulder, then turned away to head back to the dancefloor, leaving you alone. You sighed, gathered yourself as much as you could considering the effects of the tequila, and turned around to go greet him.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Yes, well. Thought I’d show up for a bit; it’s been a while.” He gave you a tight lipped smile then looked back down at his glass of whisky, the awkward energy palpable.

Probably because he just saw you basically dry-humping some random dude.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Feel free to, uh, come dance if you want! Morgan and Garcia are showing us all up,” you said, gesturing to where Morgan and Garcia were in fact drawing the attention of several onlookers.

He chuckled at that. “They’re certainly a sight to behold, aren’t they?”

You nodded in agreement and headed back to the bar, the brief conversation pointing you towards yet another drink. Talking to him was so easy , sometimes, and others it was like pulling teeth to get a human response out of him. Could you blame him, though? Your last one-on-one interaction was you basically inviting yourself over to his apartment with takeout and listening to him spill his guts about his dead wife and kid, and he probably felt uncomfortable with you after that, and then you went right to this case without any chance for things to go back to normal, and then he got shot, and oh my god, you didn’t even ask him how his arm was doing, how fucking rude can you be, dumbass? and-

“Whoops! Shit, I’m sorry!”

You looked at the person you’d just bumped into in the midst of your internal crisis.

“Hey, it’s you!”

The man you’d been dancing with earlier, now much more obviously handsome in the brighter lights of the bar area, grinned in recognition.

“Hey, I thought I’d scared you off there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. Just saw my boss and freaked out a little bit.”

“Oh shit, your boss is here?” he asked. “That’s uncomfortable, damn. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s just… yeah. Anyways. Wanna pick up where we left off?” you asked, more desperate than ever to get Hotch out of your head. If he didn’t want to see you having a wild night, he shouldn’t have come to the club.

He took your hand, looking pleased. “Lead the way.”

It really was so much easier, you thought, to let yourself feel attraction for guys like this. Uncomplicated, willing to take what you give them, no backstory to speak of. They weren’t riddled with tragic history, unattainable in both position and personality, not to mention impossible to even imagine ever returning your feelings. Guys like Cooper (you’d finally learned his name somewhere amid the grinding and groping) were easy and fun and they didn’t keep you up at night agonizing over whether that thing you said at work was impressive enough.

But then again, they didn’t give you the roller-coaster feeling in your stomach that Aaron Hotchner did every time you locked eyes.

And lock eyes you did - an increasingly frequent number of times, actually. It seemed like whenever you turned to face his direction, he was staring you down. He always went back to his conversation with Rossi and Reid, but you noticed that he seemed to get more and more pissed off with every song that played. His frown was deepened, his expression dark, and you could tell even from a distance that his knuckles were white from gripping his glass.

You shrugged it off as Hotch being Hotch - who knew what that man was thinking? And besides, you were trying to forget him, damn it. At least, that was until a particularly raunchy song came on and you were in the middle of getting your ass felt up, when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder and whip you around, bringing you face-to-face with your boss himself.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” you asked, utterly bewildered as to why he was interrupting you.

He ignored you, instead staring down Cooper, who very quickly decided Hotch wasn’t one to fuck with and walked away.

“Hotch! Is there a case? Should I grab the others?”

He shook his head. “Can you come with me, please?”

Perplexed, you acquiesced (not that you had much of a choice, with the way he was gripping your elbow) and followed him through the crowd, out the back door, and into an alley. He let go of you then, sighing and crossing his arms.

Your mind was wild with questions - did you do something you shouldn’t have? Get too drunk? Everyone was drunk, though, and you weren’t even half as wasted as some of the others. Did Reid or Rossi tell him something bad about you? Were you about to somehow get yourself fired off the clock?

“The boy you were dancing with was bad news,” he said, after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” you repeated, this time out loud, and you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him like this, but you were too caught off guard to conduct yourself more appropriately.

“He was a drug user,” Hotch said, as if that would explain everything.

“A drug user,” you repeated back, no less confused.

“Cocaine,” he continued. “He was high - his pupils were dilated, he was rubbing his nose, and he's been to the bathroom several times.”

“So… you’re going to arrest him? For doing cocaine?” you asked, still baffled as to what he was insinuating.

“What? No,” he said, “I’m trying to warn you not to get involved.”

You had entered some parallel universe, you decided. There was no other explanation for your boss, a man you’d known all of four months, dragging you outside a bar on a Friday night and telling you not to dance with a hot stranger because he was on cocaine.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you really did get yourself fired. “Sir, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business.”

His face hardened at that. “It is exactly my business,” he said, eyes boring a hole through your skull, “to watch out for things that may compromise my team.”

“Compromise your team?” you repeated his words again. “I was dancing, not getting engaged to the guy.”

“Should I allow you to dance with a sexual sadist if it’s just dancing?” he pressed, using the stern voice that usually caused any sort of dissent to whither and die right in your throat.

It didn’t work this time, probably because he was acting fucking insane. “Are you seriously comparing a sexual sadist to a guy who does cocaine while he’s out partying?”

“It’s not just while he’s out partying, by the way he conducted himself, he was a chronic-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you said, nearly yelling now. “You had no right! I'm sorry, what are you, my dad?!”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I hadn’t already had to sit through an 8 hour surgery not knowing if Garcia was going to make it out alive because her date shot her, then perhaps I would have no right. But as it stands, I do. Please be more careful with who you associate with, even if it’s just dancing.”

He spat that last part out, more vitriolic than you’d ever seen him, and stalked back inside. You were left outside in the alley, alone, reeling from confusion surrounding the entire interaction and shock at the emotional charge he’d leveled at you.

Reentering the bar, you saw that Hotch’s seat had been vacated and his jacket was gone. You rolled your eyes, and on your way to the bathroom, nearly ran into Cooper again.

“Hey!” he said. “What was that all about? You good?”

You looked up at his face and for the first time, noticed faint traces of white dust around his nose. He looked keyed up, jumpy - his pulse racing and visible on his carotid. You sighed.

“I’m good. Just not in the mood right now, sorry,” and pushed past him into the bathroom.

Hotch was an emotionally stunted asshole with a control complex, but he was also never fucking wrong.

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deathonyourtongue · 3 years

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Winter Passing | Chapter 12

Summary: After car accident leaves him at the base of a mountain with no sign of civilization for miles, a breakup is the least of Henry’s problems. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, salvation presents itself in the form of an old cabin in a clearing. Despite years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories that warn against such things, he uses his last of his strength to reach the cottage. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: A wee bit of angst. A/N : To make up for the last update, this one was far easier to hash out, and ended up being longer than I even planned. Enjoy!

Stepping foot inside the coven took Henry’s breath away. Gone was any sense of Roman architecture, replaced by the arresting columns and vaulted ceilings made fashionable by the Gothic movement. Looking up, Henry’s eyes widened as he realized the pinnacles of the ceilings were open to a sky that seemed not-of-earth. Stars shone not only white, but pink, purple, and blue, while the moon looked as though it might sink into the entryway at any moment, hanging so close, Henry felt like he could reach out to touch it.

While he knew that they’d just been out in the sunlight, being under the cover of darkness inside somehow felt more fitting. Hand clasped tightly in Olivia’s, Henry found himself unable to move, rooted to his spot as he took in the grandeur and magic of a sky so familiar, yet so very, very different from his own. Were it not for the feel of Olivia’s soft palm against his, Henry would have sworn he was in a dream.

When he finally managed to tear his eyes away from what was above him, Henry took in the impressive surroundings, finding them equally as captivating as the night sky. Each stone archway was intricately carved and immediately caught his gaze. Some told part of a story, like the stations of the cross, others were adorned with what he could only imagine were symbols important to the coven; some simply held filigree the likes of which he was accustomed to seeing in ancient buildings all across Europe. Every 20 paces or so was an ornate candle-lit chandelier, the yellow of the flames contrasting nicely against the wash of blue light from the night sky. Marble statues twice his size and portraits painted during the renaissance flanked each walkway, Henry finding it oddly bittersweet that he wouldn’t have time to take in each one. It took a gentle tug on his hand to bring Henry out of the whirlwind of art and history, and looking down at Olivia, he couldn’t help his sheepish smile.

“I know. It’s a lot to take in. We don’t have much time. Dinner’s in half an hour,” Olivia smiled knowingly, jerking her head towards one of the two grand staircases.

“Is this a formal dinner?” He asked as they followed an usher up the stairs, Henry’s voice soft and almost conspiratorial as they went.

“Yes, but don’t worry, you won’t be underdressed. There’s a reason I packed light,” Olivia winked, pausing behind the usher as the man opened the door to her apartments.

“Bigger than I imagined,” Henry breathed, walking into a room fit for a 14th century princess. An ornately-carved, four-poster bed covered in navy velvet took up the majority of the room, with a matching mahogany fireplace across from it. As he watched Olivia step over to it, Henry had to press his lips together to keep from chuckling. Unlike the hearth back home, this one was taller than Olivia, allowing enough space for her to walk into it if she chose.

“Shall I be wearing chainmail for tonight’s festivities?” He joked, Henry moving to take a seat at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on Olivia as he watched her start a fire with a simple snap of her fingers.

With the room well on its way to being adequately heated for the night, Olivia gave Henry a deadpan smile. “Hardly, unless you consider a tux the modern equivalent,” she replied, moving to stand between his legs, her expression softening as she met his gaze.

“Thank you for coming with. I know it’s a lot in a short span, but I feel better with you here, rather than leaving you alone out there with no idea how to defend against that apparition,” she whispered, stroking her hand across his cheek, grinning at how his stubble felt against her fingers.

“I’m thrilled to tag along. This has been incredible and we’ve only just arrived,” Henry whispered back, cupping Olivia’s face in both hands before giving her a sound kiss, leaving no doubt that he was there for her, and enjoying every moment of it.

Though Olivia wanted nothing more than to fall back into the soft sheets and connect with Henry the way they tended to do whenever they had a free moment, she knew the schedule was tight and that Theofina would not appreciate their tardiness.

“Alright handsome, get up, time for your fitting,” Olivia smirked, knowing it would take a bit longer to prepare Henry than it would for her to dress. “Arms out, legs slightly apart, like you’re at the tailor’s, please.”

She watched the confusion grow on Henry’s face, Olivia hiding her smile as she walked slowly around him. The idea had been in her head since the first invitation, but had finalized only as they’d driven from Rome to the gates.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her right hand until it was level with Henry’s chest. Like he’d seen happen before, waves began to form right in Olivia’s palm. This time however, the water was the color of the sea at midnight, the waves far calmer than he’d seen in the past. Mesmerized by the glint of the water against the moonlight that filled their room, Henry didn’t notice Olivia moving her left hand into position.

A sudden burst of cold hit him, forcing Henry to shut his eyes momentarily as he shivered against the temperature change. When he opened them again, he found himself donning a navy tuxedo jacket with black lapels, a white shirt with labradorite buttons, slacks the same inky blue as the jacket, and to top it all off, a black bowtie and patent-leather Oxfords. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror next to the hearth, Henry found that Olivia had even managed to style his hair, his curls defined and not weighed down in the slightest; it was the best he’d ever looked, for any event he’d been invited to.

“Wow.” He managed, smoothing a hand over his lapel admiringly.

“That’s nothing. Watch this,” Olivia smirked, giving Henry a wink before stepping back. With the same left hand raised, this time towards herself, Olivia raised both hands over her head as she began to spin. Henry watched as the water in her palm began to cascade down, coating her as though it were paint. With one final spin, her street clothes vanished, a gown fit for a queen in their place.

Henry gasped out of instinct, having never seen Olivia look more stunning. With a lace-covered bodice and a train that mimicked the ocean waves she was a master at creating, Olivia looked every inch the powerful witch Henry knew her to be. It was the color, however, that put the cherry on top. A deep hue reminiscent of the sky above them, the color against Olivia’s olive skin was breathtaking. Mouth ajar, Henry stood transfixed, more impressed by the woman in front of him than of any statue or painting.

The coven hadn’t seen a human in its midst in quite some time, or so it seemed, at least to Olivia. As they descended the grand staircase, she knew all eyes were on them, and for once, was grateful for the veil those of her order wore during any event. Dyed to match her ensemble, Olivia felt secure in the knowledge that she was one of the best-dressed at the celebration of Imbolc, a fact confirmed when she heard several other witches’ teeth clicking as she passed them on their way into the great hall.

Stopped at the door only to be given a candle, Olivia let any thoughts of others disappear as she closed her eyes, took a breath, and remembered those who had come before--most importantly, her mother.

She took in the hall as she opened her eyes, finding peace and beauty in the multitude of white candles that filled the room, knowing that if nothing else, she’d enjoy a proper celebration of Imbolc, not the simplistic version she was used to year after year.

“You’ve set tongues wagging,” Estrella’s voice made Olivia beam, and in looking over, she found her closest friend looking immaculate in a gold and black ensemble that brought back memories of wars long forgotten.

“You kept them,” Olivia mused softly, reaching out to touch one of Estrella’s many gold arm bands reverently.

“How could I not?.”

The two touched foreheads, saying more with silence than they ever could with words. Henry watched the exchange with respectful interest, realizing for the first time how little he knew of Olivia’s history. Whatever had occurred between them, Henry knew it had only served to bring them closer, and for that, he was glad. Olivia had seemed like such a solitary creature at first, that knowing she had at least one friend who was like blood to her, eased his heart a little.

It was Theofina’s voice that broke the moment, her low tone one that immediately called for respect and attention. No matter what they were doing, the whole of the coven stopped to listen.

“Welcome all to our celebration. Imbolc is a time of hope and renewal of strength. Of new life, and growth. A promise of things to come and a light at the end of the darkness. We come together tonight not only to reamplify our power, but to grow stronger as a coven. Welcome to all who are joining us for the first time, or for the first time in years. May you seek that which you wander for. Let us begin the feast!”

Not five minutes into dinner and she could feel the stares directed at Henry, most of them lustful in quality. The women of her coven had never bowed to the societal pressure to be modest or demure. If they wanted a man, they made it plainly apparent, and despite being a mere mortal, the women of Athanato Fengari wanted Henry.

Olivia’s only saving grace was that Henry seemed to pay them no mind, his attentive gaze fixed solely on her and his plate as they ate. Bolstered by tender touches to her back and hair, Henry silently made it clear he only had eyes for her, and as dinner progressed, she relaxed and began to actually enjoy her food.

Just as she was finishing her plate of Parthian chicken and fire-roasted vegetables, Olivia felt a tap at her shoulder. Looking up, she came face-to-face with Theofina, the older woman wearing a wry smile that immediately put Olivia on edge again.

“Nice of you and your…plus one to join us,” she greeted, her tone withering as she looked down at the couple.

“Thank you for having us,” Olivia said, feigning a smile for the benefit of everyone watching. Without looking, she knew that everyone in range was looking at them, not only because Henry was human, but because Theofina so rarely singled people out during festivities.

“It’ll be your first Imbolc in the coven since--”

“Yes, since then,” Olivia cut her off, not about to let Theofina air out the past in front of members she didn’t even recognize. Though she was under no illusion that her history wasn’t been spread like wildfire each time a new class of girls initiated into the coven, she didn’t want anyone getting the pleasure of hearing it from the horse’s mouth.

“Well, you know the offer still stands, even though you’ve chosen a mere human as your temporary companion. We have…ways of making it work. All you have to do--”

Olivia stood abruptly, her face mere inches from Theofina’s. There was heat behind her glare, and though she stood firm, her hands shook visibly.

“I will never agree to that arrangement and you know it. I see now the true reason why you summoned me. I should have known things would never change with you still in power. My mother was right about you. Absolutely right.” Olivia spat, her eyes filled with fury and anguish for the past.

Without allowing Theofina time to respond, Olivia fled the great hall, tearing into a run as soon as she was outside the room, not stopping until she reached the scrying pool in the garden. Tears washed down her cheeks as she collapsed at the edge of the inky water, not noticing it slowly begin to swirl.

Henry, who’d bolted out of his seat as soon as Olivia had left the room, was only a few steps behind, his strides getting longer as he stepped over the beginnings of the newly-planted hedge maze that would soon envelop the pool. His expression softened when he saw Olivia curled over, hands covering her face.

“My love?” He spoke softly as he approached, Henry reaching out to smooth a hand down Olivia’s exposed back, before taking her chin in hand so she could meet his gaze. She could only manage a moment’s glance, before a fresh wave of tears caused her face to crumple in grief once more. Henry moved swiftly, sitting down and easily bringing her into his protective embrace. Cradling Olivia close, he simply held her as she cried, knowing better than to offer platitudes for a situation he still didn’t fully understand.

Slowly, the sobs turned to whimpers, then to the staccato silence of someone trying to regain their normal breathing pattern. Eyes closed, Henry could feel the pain radiating off Olivia in waves, crashing against his own heart despite the fact that she was composing herself.

“I’ve always wondered if my mother’s death was truly an accident. Witches, in general, aren’t exactly the type to have accidents. We don’t kill easy. Theofina’s unrelenting need for the power that runs through my veins--that ran through my mother’s--makes me wonder if the rumors are true. And her wanting me to get pregnant...Gods, I could only imagine what she would do to the infant. It’s why I had it all removed in the first place.”

“You had a hysterectomy. That’s why you said I was shooting into a desert.” Henry remembered their conversation, understanding now why she could speak on the subject with so much more ease than other women who’d had the same procedure under different circumstances. Olivia nodded, turning her gaze to the scrying waters. With a wave of her hand, she brought up a scene that though silent, nevertheless made Henry immediately hold her tighter, his expression creasing in pain for his beloved.

There in the murky ripples, was a scene reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition. Olivia’s face contorted in a perpetual scream as Estrella worked quickly to remove the organs that both women knew couldn’t stay. Panic filled the room, Estrella continually looking over her shoulder between cuts, urged on by her friend’s pain and need. Olivia’s face was pale and clammy, each muscle strained taught as she fought to remain conscious through the ordeal. Unconsciously, Henry cupped her head, pulling it flush to his chest before kissing her crown over and over again.

“Estrella was kind enough to help me; she risked not only her life, but her place in the coven for me. She was quick with the blade, and ensured I recovered properly.” Olivia’s voice lowered to a whisper before she added, “She keeps that which is most sacred hidden away, where even I can’t find it.”

Henry squeezed her close, holding on tightly, until the image on the water had passed, replaced by that of an older woman. Looking closer, Henry recognized the face immediately, though the fear associated with it vanished, the new version of it full of life. Kind eyes nearly identical to Olivia’s stared back at him, the woman’s expression filled with joy and appreciation.

You were made for her as she was made for you. Keep her heart and she’ll keep yours. Remember… Life is full of surprises.

Jolting as he heard the voice clear as day in his head, Henry looked down to find Olivia’s tears had returned, this time hand-in-hand with a smile just as bright as her mother’s.

“Mater,” Olivia whimpered, reaching out to touch the water, her fingers stopping mere inches from the surface as she realized that moving the water would break the image.

“I miss you so much. There wasn’t enough time. You still had things to teach me.”

The words, coupled with Olivia’s tears, left Henry’s own vision blurring. Though he had no idea how long it had been since her passing, he knew to count himself lucky; his own mother was still alive and just a phone call away. Without realizing it, he began to rock Olivia, tears slipping down his cheeks as he watched the two communicate in silence.

A rustle in the garden made them both look up, Henry quickly wiping his tears as he readied himself for another confrontation between Olivia and Theofina. Instead, he found Estrella and a few other women standing just beyond the hedge maze, each holding a candle.

“It’s time, sister,” Estrella spoke softly, her expression one of understanding as she caught sight of the tear tracks on Olivia’s face. With a discreet wiggle of her fingers in the water, Olivia made the image of her mother disappear before standing. Taking a deep breath, she wiped a hand over her face, Henry watching in awe as any sign of her tears disappeared, Olivia looking as fresh and put together as she had upstairs, hours before. Wiping his own eyes once more, he followed her as she cut back across the hedges and joined her sisters.

Watching as the line of men and women shuffled ever closer to the door of the great hall, Henry began to feel his nerves take over. Though he knew how to do it, he’d never considered himself a great dancer. He watched, hugging Olivia from behind as each couple in front of them were announced and promptly took the floor, moving swiftly around the great hall in what he could only assume was a Foxtrot or some variation of it; whatever version it was, it included far more spins and turns than he’d ever done with anyone.

Squeezing his hand, Olivia smiled up at him reassuringly. “Don’t fret. I’ll be the one getting dizzy,” she joked, giving his forearm a gentle jostle.

As their name was called, Olivia moved into position, slipping one hand in his while the other slid up to his shoulder. With a bright smile, she counted down and moved them out, leading only for a moment until Henry got his bearings.

The candles seemed to flit in and around them, dancing it seemed, along with everyone in the hall. Before he knew it, they had already lapped the room, not one foot out of place. Head held high, Olivia beamed up at him, pride and love clear in her gaze.

The more they danced, the more time seemed to slow. Looking at all the blurry, passing faces in the crowd, Henry could feel the energy being created, each spin and turn amplifying it to such a degree that he wondered whether those in the outside world could see it, a homing beacon of sorts.

He was in awe, shaking his head as they went for another lap, unable to fathom how every movement felt so light and effortless; it was as if he’d been a ballroom dancer all his life. Though he was almost positive a certain element of magic was involved, he couldn’t put his finger on when it had happened, and dared not think too hard on it lest it break whatever hold on him it had.

Instead, he waited for the swell of the music, and when the time was just right, he leaned down and kissed Olivia with all the love he had in his heart, hoping it was enough to lift the heaviness of the day, if only for one, perfect moment.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #winter passing #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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illuminatedquill · 3 years

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Nevertheless, Finale (Preview)

This is going to be my final post until after the last episode airs.

Let’s get right into it. Remember that feeling of happiness we all had after episode 9 aired? Bit Na x Gyu Hyun, Soljiwan had their happy endings; Na Bi finally kicked Jae Eon to the curb; Do Hyeok x Na Bi seem to be full steam ahead towards their happy ending.

That’s gone now. Episode 10, the finale, looms ahead like the iceberg to the Titanic and, if you’ve been poking around on Twitter this morning, you might have spotted a HUGE SPOILER that got leaked somehow. If you’re reading this, you know what’s coming. I have to talk and try to make sense of it for anyone who is cheering for Do Hyeok x Na Bi about what it all could mean.

So, again, BEWARE. It’s going to get messy. SPOILERS AHEAD, DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF YOU WANT TO GO IN CLEAN AND ANXIETY FREE.

What. The hell. Is this scene.

As of this writing, there are now three more pictures that seem to point in one terrible, terrible direction: that, against all reason, all sanity, all sense, Jae Eon x Na Bi are going to be endgame. I’m not going to post the other ones, but I’ll link it here: https://twitter.com/apinya96335760/status/1428390704699506689?s=20.

How did we get here? Where did this come from? What are the writers thinking?

Let’s rewind and do a little recap: yes, Jae Eon has made progress with his character but, as I’ve stated in a previous post, just because he’s aware of his feelings for Na Bi doesn’t make him automatically entitled to be with her. In fact, his character has only gotten worse, making him a meaner, more possessive version of himself. He hit rock bottom in episode 9 after he used Na Bi in an attempt to hurt her friendship with Do Hyeok. As we saw, Na Bi didn’t take kindly to that; she burned him, and their whole rotten relationship to the ground in reply. Jae Eon, somehow shocked at this turn of events, realizes that he has lost Na Bi for good.

The preview for episode 10 seems to hint at a potential reconciliation for the two and, honestly, I am hoping for that; it needs to happen so that they both can move on to the next chapter of their lives. Despite Na Bi’s wish to never see Jae Eon again, she does need his help on her art project which is in dire need of rescue after it gets mysteriously destroyed. The art project, to me, is the one remaining way they can reconnect and be honest with each other, along with their feelings; putting it into the sculpture is the way of letting each other go and coming to terms with all that happened between them, good and bad.

But I do NOT see them getting back together. There is no way in hell that Na Bi would consider such a thing, especially after the events of the last episode. And her feelings for Do Hyeok are emerging stronger than ever, as suggested in some cute scenes from the preview as well:

In a nice callback to his original confession in episode 8, Do Hyeok once again offers Na Bi flowers (although I don’t know if he is confessing again). This time we see Na Bi accept them, so it does seem like she is ready to reciprocate his feelings with her own. Makes sense.

So what is with those spoiler pics?

Here is the current main theory I’m seeing: it’s a dream.

Yeah. I know how that sounds. We know that Jae Eon returns to see Na Bi’s art piece at the gallery and, judging from the photo, that’s where he makes his last, desperate plea to see if he has a chance with her. The timeline of this photo is odd; we KNOW that Na Bi accepts Do Hyeok’s flowers in the preview. If she really is accepting his feelings and committing to a future with him, why would she turn around and kiss Jae Eon all of a sudden?

There is no way they can suddenly turn his character around - or have Na Bi grant him forgiveness to the point where she makes this decision - in the span of one hour. The sheer amount of writing, logic, and character bending gymnastics to arrive to that conclusion is insane. I can’t wrap my head around it. Jae Eon x Na Bi are DONE. He said it himself.

So this is where the dream theory comes in. Jae Eon sees Do Hyeok x Na Bi, acting lovey dovey now that they’re committed to one another, and has his whole narrative finally revealed (whatever that means; to explain, a few weeks ago, it was spoiled that “Jae Eon’s narrative” will be finally revealed in this episode and now I think I means this); heart broken at his lost opportunity, he imagines what life would be like if he hadn’t messed up and he and Na Bi were reunited. Hence the spoiler pics.

I mean, look at those photos. It seems too good to be true. And those sure as hell aren’t Na Bi’s dreams and wishes; she hates Jae Eon and never wants to see him again. Her and Do Hyeok are as solid a couple can be and they’re not even dating (yet). I cannot imagine for the life of me what Jae Eon could do in the final episode that makes her give him a second chance. And I’m being objective as possible, despite my bias for Do Hyeok. Yes, he helps her with the art project. Great. But that should lead to reconciliation and letting go. Not getting back together.

(There is literally no time left. One hour, folks. That’s all they have. If they really wanted this to be endgame, they should have been putting in the work WEEKS ago. Yet, here we are.)

I’ve said this before, but I’ll repeat it here: nothing is guaranteed with this show. Every time I think it’s going to go one way, it goes another.

But, to me, this potential ending doesn’t make sense. Not in any way. Communication, respect, putting your partner’s feelings first, making sure that you are healed and whole and have no baggage when you enter a relationship - these are all lessons that the show has imparted to us, the audience, and ones that I have talked about in my posts.

If they do go with this ending, it will be a betrayal of all that. It will be another classic ‘the good girl changes the bad guy so he can be with her’ ending, and Nevertheless, despite its problems, can’t be faulted for being just another kdrama. This ending doesn’t exist in real life; the Jae Eons of our world rarely change, and if they do, not enough to warrant a second chance like this. This ending route is a fantasy and Nevertheless exalts itself for being hyper realistic.

But. I don’t know. It all comes down to Na Bi and what her heart is saying. And despite my previous posts pointing out time and again that her feelings for Do Hyeok are growing stronger with each passing episode, unfortunately, we still don’t know how she feels about him. The preview is promising but the spoiler photos are damning.

If you’ve read to this point and are still feeling unsure, I’m sorry. This was as much a post for me as it was for you to sort this all out and try to make sense of it all. I tried my best.

(Feel free to scream about with me through a message or reply.)

Last episode, everyone. Let’s hope the drama sticks the landing, doesn’t let us down again, and we finally see Do Hyeok x Na Bi get their happy ending. They’ve been through enough. And so have we.

See you all at the finish line. As they say, it’s all over but the crying . . .

#jtbc nevertheless #nevertheless #kdrama #han so hee #chae jong hyeop #song kang #yoo na bi #yang do hyeok #park jae eon

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sol-luminosus · 4 years

Text

Same verse as that of ‘Creep’. Happening first chronologically before they ended up on the hallway. Only that this is a Hananene version.

A look into Amane’s own point of view of love.

Title: Lego House

Fandom: Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Pairing: Hananene

Genre: Romance/Angst

Rating: T

Chapters: 1 (One-shot)

Summary: And out of all these things I’ve done, I will love you better now.

Yugi Amane was captivated.

It coiled and coiled and turned in the very expanse of his chest, gripping his heart so hard and so intently that he was positive his chest would burst into a thousand pieces at any given minute.

Nene was gazing at him questioningly, tilting her head of glittering silver locks so a few strands would cascade and slightly obscure her face as it waterfalled and framed the edge of her cheek.

He’d resisted the urge to tuck the stray pieces at the back of her ear.

Just by a moment’s brave surge of will to control himself.

Amane simply answered her concerned expression and previous barrage of questions about his well-being with a gentle smile, hoping that his beguiling expression would be enough to ease the worries in her mind.

He could tell however, that his strained effort had failed, given by the way her brows had furrowed further in a mixture of what seemed to be annoyance and worry from having something clearly hidden from her.

Indeed, the eyes were windows to the soul.

His in that very moment, must have been filled with desperation and longing. Perhaps at least surely, only those two emotions had leaked out.

She couldn’t have seen it, he was positive.

He’d never let her see it.

The clear and vulnerable emotion of love he’d tried so hard to will down and forever entomb in the very depths of his heart. It screamed so deafeningly, almost numbing his senses at times and making him forget of the actuality of things.

That he was dead and Nene wasn’t.

That his future was long gone with his wishes to remain rooted to where he is now as the only thing he should cling to,

That he had let go of his dreams to fly to the moon a long time ago.

A few decades which oddly, seemed to span for as long as an entire lifetime.

That at the very least, he knew he had the power to alter Nene’s fate.

So that he won’t drag her to the same empty abyss that he had long accepted to be irrevocably submerged in until the day he’d received his judgement.

This journey to redemption was and his alone. It will and would have nothing to do with her.

For a moment, he was sure his heart had swayed. When she’d regarded him with those iron-willed gems for eyes expressing her desire to live her life the way she wanted with a lifespan that could barely be a fistful, Amane just couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from her. She’d called out to him—reached out with those two hands clasped together as if in a fervent prayer.

The same position as she had back when she’d first summoned him in the bathroom stall.

And all the while, although it was her own wish that should have nothing to do with him, she’d undauntedly declared that she would no matter what, journey to the moon together with him.

He knew he’d seen them before. On that very night however, they’ve shone and glimmered much more blindingly than they’ve ever before. The stars in her eyes had enthralled and bewitched him so that at that moment, he was certain he’d forgotten about anything else for a split second.

That he wasn’t the infamous Honorable No. 7 called Hanako-san.

That he was simply a child burdened with a sacrifice far too heavy for him to carry than what his small shoulders could have handled.

That he was just Yugi Amane, a socially awkward teenager who was in pieces and had eyes which reflected an unsettling amount of wisdom for his age.

And she was just Yashiro Nene, a girl with her head up in the clouds in search for dreams of true love and a promising long life ahead.

But he’d only forgotten for a split second.

How he’d wished, that he could’ve told her with all the honesty and transparency that his resigned heart could offer, that he was content enough with seeing the entire universe in the depths of those two luminous, ruby eyes.

Those very eyes he’d come to love ever since he was just at the tender age of nine all those years ago in that festival.

“Hanako-kun, what’s with you today? You keep spacing out for no reason and there’s clearly something wrong. I’m not going to stop prying unless you tell me—“

The sudden boisterous noise of the bathroom door swinging open and slamming on the wooden wall had both of them jumping out from their positions.

“Oi, Hanako! This is bad. Nii-san is out on a rampage right now because the mokke are running wild in the student council office. He’s talking about ‘exterminating all spirits’. What if he goes after you during his crazy fit?”

The golden specks in Amane’s eyes had turned dark with mischief, hovering over to the loud intruder in the name of Kou with a teasing expression and fingers touching his lips in a bid of mockery.

“Oh, what’s this? You’re suddenly so worried about me? Could it be? Are you in love with me?”

The blonde haired boy had reddened a dusty shade of pink from both shock and embarrassment, before the bellow of his voice had come booming in a strong effort of denial. “I am not, you crazy apparition! Maybe my brother’s already tried smacking you before I came here that’s why there’s suddenly something wrong with your head. In the first place the one I love is sen—“

His sentence had been cut off none too curtly, with an audible slap of skin ringing through the four corners of the room from having a palm slammed flatly over Kou’s mouth, effectively silencing him down. The leader of the School Wonders could barely show any sense of sympathy for the exorcist’s angered protests from the evident pain of having his teeth graze and split the skin of his lips.

“Oh, look at the time. Shouldn’t we hurry over to this mokke massacre you were talking about?” Amane had animatedly declared, glancing over to the wrist of his free arm where a nonexistent watch was strapped.

Kou had struggled to wheel away the hand clasped so tightly over his face. If he’d had the sense to be as livid as his brother would be in situations like these, then he’d be absolutely convinced that Amane had actually tried to suffocate him just to get him to stop talking, with the sheer amount of pressure he’d used reminding him far too irksomely of wood glue.

“What are you saying? We haven’t been here for long. In the first place we should hurry up and think of a strategy firs—“

For the second time on that afternoon, Kou had found himself being stopped midway of his musings, only having to have realized then that Nene had been in the bathroom all along. His eyes had grown wide with startlement, before having the familiar creep of a blush climb its way back up to his face with the difference in shade ten times as strong compared to the previous flush of color he’d donned just minutes earlier.

His dimwitted self which entirely lacks self awareness had almost confessed to her indirectly and in the middle of a bathroom of all places. Nene had only stared at him with an exasperated expression, a combination of what was obviously that of displeasure from the two of them bickering nonsensically and the urgency of the situation which they were very, very clearly stalling at that moment.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right! Let’s get going already.” Kou had laughed nervously to himself, the embarrassment hiking further up in his throat with his voice clearly about two octaves higher than normal before speeding up and out first out of the bathroom.

“What the heck was that about? Is there something wrong with my face?”

“Other than still looking human and not resembling a radish yet, I think you’re perfectly fine.”

Nene had turned to him with a brief look of irritation, before harshly spearing him on the head with the sharp ends of her hair pins.

“Hmph, stupid Hanako-kun acting all weird and suddenly calling me a radish, again.” She’d grumbled in frustration under her breath, with an injured Amane cradling his head in his palm and having his complaints about Yashiro’s ruthlessness ignored to be whisked away by the wind.

In the midst of his half-heartedly hurt reverie, his thoughts had peddled back to Kou’s would-have-been confession, noting how easy it was for him for the words to flow and cascade from his mouth.

And he was certain that had he been not there and the setting at the very least, had been somewhere that wasn’t as peculiar and off-putting as a bathroom, then the blonde boy would have not hesitated. He could picture him perfectly in his head, the words which Amane had kept from spilling running freely with his heart completely exposed and in its rawest for her to have as her own if Nene would willingly accept.

The very thought of her responding and reciprocating his feelings had caused an unutterable amount of fear to brew in Amane’s chest.

For he who was nothing more but a sham that could merely falsify and imitate what little of his memories could correctly recall as ‘life’, Kou was the living, breathing counterpart to his lies—someone who actually had the ability within his reach to promise her happiness.

He knew, and frankly, he didn’t really need to be reminded.

It was never a competition from the beginning.

And Amane was neither a willing contender.

His eyes in the shade of a precious mineral had darted on her back, watching with a somber fondness as the slope of her slight shoulders further sagged from her dipped mood exclusively caused by him just minutes prior.

Amane’s stare had narrowed in a sentiment of strangled affection, one that he was absolutely terrified for anyone or anything to ever decrypt from him.

“Maybe just for a little while. If it means I can keep you, I can stay in love with you for a little while longer.” The words had gone out and died in a whisper, coherent but with every syllable surely indistinct enough for anyone other than himself to understand.

She’d whirled her head around in query, certain that she’d heard him speak but not quite catching his words as she’d been lost in her own embittered sighs and grievances over the grating spectral being.

Amane had simply smiled at her, that same tenderly lonely smile he’d given her earlier that day when they were in the bathroom.

And Nene had only felt the same sting of emotion she’d felt back then as well; puncturing and aching yet beckoning her to him at the same time.

Creep: (Same verse/Tsukanene version)

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hard-boiled-criminal · 4 years

Text

Planetary Magick: 1

(Twisted Wonderland x Earthling! Witch! Reader)

This is crossposted on my ao3 and quotev. I have a chapter on some general information you should know about this fic before going into it, so please go and look at it first. I’ll have it linked in the masterlist. There is some essential information there, so I’ll also have a shortened version of the general information linked in the masterlist.

I haven’t quite decided all the love interests yet, so please comment who you want to be included. But don’t comment until after you’ve read the essential information post. I’ll know if you haven’t when you comment. I started this fic with my two favorite boys in mind, so they’ll probably end up getting more attention at the beginning.

Without further ado, here we gooooooooooo

_____________________________________________

“Alrighty, here we go,” you mumbled to yourself as you got yourself settled and comfortable, then set a twenty-minute timer on your phone for your meditation session.

You breathed in deeply for four counts, held your breath for four more counts, then exhaled for four counts, closing your eyes during the exhale. You scanned your body, seeing how every part of you felt and releasing any tension you discovered. You focused on your breath and how it moves the body, allowing you to clear your mind. Any wandering thoughts that passed through your head you let go, like seeing a leaf floating down a river: you notice it, then let it go.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale…hold…exhale…

In…hale…out…

. . .

You let out a low, gravelly hum as you began to awake, blinking. Or you think you’re blinking, at least. It was the same level of dark when your eyes were open as when they were closed.

‘When did it get so dark? Last I remember, it was mid-afternoon… What was I doing again?’ You hummed again, but in a way that you didn’t use your vocal cords. It was more of a throaty exhale. ‘Oh, that’s right! I was medita…ting…fuck, I fell asleep while meditating, didn’t I? That’s one of the big thing’s you’re not supposed to do, (y/n).’

Seeing as you probably wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep now, you went to sit up from your laying position, just to hit your forehead against solid wood.

“Ah fuck,” you quietly exclaimed in both surprise and mild pain.

You raised your arms to figure out what you hit your head against, but they also hit wood. Starting to panic a bit, you rapidly felt out the area all around you: it’s all wood. You were in a box. You desperately tried pushing on all of the sides, one at a time, hoping that you weren’t sealed inside. Nothing budged. Your breaths began to speed up, becoming shallower.

‘Why am I in a box? How did I get here? Oh fuck, have I been kidnapped?! Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Various expletives cycled their way through your thoughts as a result of the panic.

You yelped when the box suddenly began to tilt forward, causing your body to slide down the box that you now realized was quite a bit longer than you were tall. Your feet stopped your sliding when they hit the new bottom of the box, letting you stand upright. You didn’t know what this meant. Why would someone stand your box up? What was happening? You heard a voice speaking from outside the box, but your panic prevented you from processing their words.

You quickly shifted your priorities when the box started to heat up like a wooden oven, beginning to fill up with smoke. You didn’t have time to scream. You had to get out of there. With renewed vigor, you rammed your shoulder into the wooden panel in front of you. You felt it budge! It didn’t open, but it budged. You didn’t wait to ram your shoulder into it again. This time, the wood gave in to your force easily, popping off of the box and onto the floor. Maybe it gave way a bit too easily, as your momentum sent you careening to the hard floor, your shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. You heard a loud scream that you knew wasn’t yours, you simply didn’t have the breath to scream, as your momentum didn’t stop, making you somersault multiple times towards the center of the room. Well, somersaulting is a bit of a generous term; it was really more of a chaotic rolling, limbs flailing about as the world blurred between right-side-up and upside-down.

Something you always suspected, but now knew for sure, was that unexpected somersaults are very painful on the neck, not to mention your head that slammed into the hard floor each roll. You didn’t know where the cracks you heard came from, but you doubt it could be anything but your body. You just hope those sounds were the good kind, like the cracking-your-knuckles cracks and not the snapping-your-bones-in-twain cracks.

When you finally rolled to a stop, you laid limply on your side, unmoving. You painfully gaped for breath, trying to fill your lungs with the sweet oxygen you were barred from when rolling. Your vision blurred and swam; unable to make out anything or focus on anything except colors, you closed your eyes from the sight lest you get a headache.

Still disoriented and generally out-of-sorts after you caught your breath, you struggled to roll onto your knees, resting your forehead on the cool floor in hopes to ease the overwhelming dizziness that you could practically feel in every bone of your body.

“Why are you up?!” You heard strange voice yell out, coming from where your wooden prison sat.

You turn your head ever so slightly so you could semi-face where the voice came from. You squinted, trying to focus your gaze, but everything remained blurry. You could see bright cerulean flames dancing around what you think was your box, presumably the same flames that smoked you out. And by the floor was an animated gray blob, slowly growing larger. Or was it just getting closer? You couldn’t tell, your attention snapping back to your throbbing head as your vision span once more.

You groaned as you closed your eyes and turned your head back to where it was, the cold, probably stone, floor felt nice. It helped soothe your steadily worsening headache a bit, but any relief was better than none. You weren’t in a rush to move from your spot, and since the floor was stone, you wouldn’t have to worry about the fire spreading.

“If you’re just gonna sit around, then hurry and gimme those clothes!” That strange voice that reminded you of Team Rocket’s Meowth yelled again, though this time is was much closer. “Otherwise—”

You cut them off with a louder groan than before and held up an index finger in their direction to both shush them and to say, ‘give me a minute.’ “Please, just, give me a sec. I’m dizzy and might have a concussion—no, probably have a concussion. So please, don’t shout.”

“Hah? Why should I care about what some dumb human has to say? Now gimme those clothes unless you want me to roast ya!”

You grunt as you force yourself to stand, the dizziness mostly subsiding. You looked over to see if you could make out the Meowth-sounding figure now, but to no avail; your vision was still blurry and refused to focus. All you could see was that gray blob, but now you could make out a patch of white and two patches of that same cerulean blue on the figure.

“I’m sorry, the fuck did you just say? You want me to give you my clothes? Fat chance, ya little pervert.”

They made a disgruntled sound and yelled again, which did not help your headache at all, “I’m not a pervert, stupid human! Just shut up and hand over that uniform!”

“I’ll pass,” you quickly glanced around the room, looking for an exit. There was a large area of dark brown embedded in the wall to your right, no doubt being a set of double doors; you now had your escape route. You hope you were staring into the eyes of that bleary gray figure. “…yeet.” And you bolted towards the doors.

“Wha—hey! Get back here stupid human!” You heard them shout after you.

Running felt stranger than normal, like there was more drag, like you were dragging something with your arms. You looked down and finally paid mind to your clothes: they were definitely not yours. You were wearing something like a coat—or a cloak? —with heavy bell-sleeves, the source of the extra weight. You now also noticed that there was a hood pulled over your head as well. It was a miracle it stayed on after your rough tumble.

‘Yeah nope, fuck that. I’m not ready to be sacrificed by some fancy cloak cult,’ with that thought fueling your determination, you stayed true to your ‘yeet’ and rammed your other shoulder into one of the doors, not wanting to waste time on opening it like a civilized person. Besides, that would probably be quite difficult as it was still hard to see, and your hand-eye coordination was probably going to be shit because of your probable concussion.

Luckily, the doors were unlocked, the one you charged at bursting open upon impact with little resistance. You didn’t dare slow down, sprinting down the outdoor hallway the doors led to. And as you noticed a group of people approaching, you couldn’t slow down. You danced through the gaps between them, the sudden twisting bringing back the dizziness. Your poor coordination made sure that you bumped into a few elbows on your way through, adding a couple more bruises to the list. You didn’t bother to spare them a glance or even acknowledge them. Your body was screaming at you to stop, your frantic running only serving to further agitate your too-fresh wounds, sending streaks of stinging pain through your body.

It was no use though. Fatigue finally won you over, and you practically collapsed onto the floor of what was a library of sorts. Or maybe an archive? Even if you couldn’t make out any individual books, you could easily tell that the walls were lined with filled bookshelves. You panted heavily as you laid on your back, too exhausted to care about lying on the floor. Your peace could only last for so long, though.

“Did you really think you’d get away from my nose? Dumb human!”

You grumble in fatigue-induced anger, using a chair to help stand yourself back up. You’ve had enough of this pervert’s shit. You’re hurt and scared and tired and confused, and all you want to do right now is sleep. You quickly hoist up the chair, resting the side of the chair’s back on your shoulder, brandishing the chair as a weapon as your hands grasped the seat. You were just about ready to use the chair as a battering ram on this rat of unusual size.

“If you don’t wanna get roasted, better hand over—Buwah!?” Out of no where a whip stuck the strange creature, staying wrapped around it. “Ow! What’s with this cord?”

“This is no mere cord. It is a lash of love!” Their masculine voice sounded strange, as if they were forced to talk around a physical lump stuck in their throat.

Their voice was rounded, but in an odder way than usual. It was as if each word was its own separate circle: only one circle per word with the circles never quite connecting. It was as if they composed their sentences like a piece of music but added a breath mark between each and every note. You didn’t know how else to describe it. His words were round but ended strong and abruptly, as opposed to the gentle waves and curves you’d expect from a rounded voice.

You didn’t notice him until he stepped closer. His ensemble of clothes was mostly black, and the colors that weren’t black were at least dark. More than half of his face appeared to be covered with a black mask, so could you really blame yourself for not being able to make him out in this dark library?

You slowly lowered the chair back to ground as you tried to process that he called it a ‘lash of love.’

“Ah, found you at last. Are you one of the new students?”

“Uh, I’m sorry—”

“Yes, you should be! You shouldn’t do things like leaving the Gate on your own!” He cut you off and kept talking, not giving you a chance to speak, let alone defend yourself because you didn’t know what the fuck was going on. “Not only that, you have yet to tame your familiar, which has broken a number of school rules.

“Let me go! I’m not their freakin’ familiar!” The creature took the words right out of your mouth while squirming in the man’s grasp.

“Sure, sure. The rebellious ones always say things like that,” he immediately dismissed the thing’s outburst. “Just quiet down for a moment.” You couldn’t quite see what he did, but the gray beast could only make muffled noises. You think the thing was gagged, but you don’t know by what. “My goodness,” he directed his attention to you again. “It’s unprecedented for a new student to leave the Gate on their own. Ugh… How impatient can you be?” He sounded very offended by your actions, still not giving you the chance to explain that you were busy trying not to die. “The entrance ceremony is already well under way. Come along now. Let’s head to the Hall of Mirrors,” he turned on his heel, quickly walking away.

You had three options: 1) Follow him to whatever the Hall of Mirrors was. Maybe it’s like a hall full of those body-warping mirrors they have at carnivals? 2)Stay behind and wait for something else to come try to kill you. 3) Run away and hope you don’t run into something that wants to kill you.

You quickly jogged to catch up to him. “I—uh, where are we going?”

“As I said, the Hall of Mirrors. It’s the room you woke up in with all of the doors.”

‘Doors? Is he talking about the sealed box I was in?’

“All students who wish to attend this academy must pass through one of those doors to arrive here. Normally, students wake up only after the door is opened with a special key, but…” he glanced over to you, silently expecting an answer.

You pointed at the Meowth-voiced creature. “He kinda smoked me out.”

“So, in the end, the culprit appears to be this familiar. If you’re going to bring it with you, you have to take responsibility and properly take care of it.”

“Um, sir? That’s not—”

“Oh my!” He cut you off once more. “Now isn’t the time to be long winded. The entrance ceremony will soon come to a close. Let’s get a move on.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what’s going on,” it came out form your mouth quietly, barely above a whisper.

“What’s this? Are you still dazed? It appears the teleportation magic has left you disoriented…”

‘…teleportation…magic? Was I—Was I kidnapped by a wizard LARP group?’

“Well, it is fine. It happens often enough. I shall give you an explanation as we make our way there. For I am gracious.”

‘Gracious my ass; your favorite thing is to assume things about me, and you know what they say about assume: it makes an ass out of u and me.’

He cleared his throat as we stepped into the courtyard I had previously ran past. “This is ‘Night Raven College.’ Those magicians blessed with a unique aptitude for magic gather from all over the world, here at the most prestigious magical academy in Twisted Wonderland.”

‘Oh shit, they’re a Harry Potter LARP group. I don’t think Harry would condone kidnapping someone though…’

“And I’m the principal, appointed to take care of this academy by the board chairman, Dire Crowley.”

‘Crowley like the demon from Good Omens? Or like that guy who wrote a book on demons? Or maybe that one guy from Yu-Gi-Oh…’

“…” You patiently waited for him to say, “You’re a wizard, Harry,” but he never did. ‘I can’t believe I have to deliver this line without the lead up. “A what?”

He ignored you to continue with his ‘gracious’ monologue, “Only those magicians seen as worthy by the Dark Mirror can attend this school. Chosen ones use the Gate and are summoned here from around the world. An Ebony Carriage carrying a Gate should have gone to meet you as well.”

“A carriage? You mean one with a horse?”

He gasped, offended, for some reason, “Of course it was drawn by a horse! Our school would never be so uncouth as to have it drawn by anything else!”

“Well, I would have remembered if there was a horse. Horses are the embodiment of equal opportunity fear*. You don’t forget running into a creature like that.” You shivered at the thought of the horse-like fae you’ve heard about in legends. Like the one that can apparently kill gods.

“It seems you are more dazed than I first thought. Well, no matter! I shall continue with my explanation, for I truly am so gracious. The Ebony Carriage goes to welcome new students chosen by the Dark Mirror. They are special carriages that carry the doors to the academy. The market decided long ago that carriages are used to welcome people on special days.”

“The market? Are you telling me stocks have something to do with this?” You had to actively try not to say ‘stonks’ instead of ‘stocks.’

He ignored you again, instead speeding up his walking as the gray creature started squirming and making muffled sounds again. “Come. Let’s go to the entrance ceremony.”

With the both of you now speed walking, it didn’t take long for the three of you, counting the creature, to make it back to the doors you had originally burst out of. Crowley, not being one to wait for anything, quickly barged in. “Not at all!” he exclaimed, probably responding to something you didn’t catch.

“Ah, he’s here,” you heard someone say from inside the room.

‘…You’ve gotta be buttfucking me,’ was your first thought as you peeked out from behind Crowley to see the room filled to the brim with people wearing the same cloak as you.

“I cannot believe you all. We were missing one new student, so I went to find them,” he stepped to the side to present you, making your anxiety spike as all the eyes in the room turned to you. “You are the only one yet to be assigned a dormitory,” he now directed his words to you. “I shall watch over the raccoon, step in front of the Dark Mirror.”

You were never more grateful than now to have the large hood obscuring your face, preventing anybody from fully seeing it. You weren’t planning on going anywhere before you got kidnapped, so you didn’t bother fixing up your appearance at all. You probably looked like a mess. If you fell asleep during meditation, that must’ve meant that you were extremely exhausted; you wouldn’t be surprised if your eyes looked like they better suited a meth-addict grim reaper. Regarding what type of death your eyes belonged to, until you got a good look in the mirror, it was up for debate between two options: if your eyebags were dark enough to make your eyes look like they were sunken into your skull, yet at the same time pop-eyed from the contrast of white and red to dark bags, or if your eyes and eyebags were swollen to all hell, giving you a upper pop-eyed look, as if somebody squeezed you and your eyes tried to pop out of your head, but their escape was thwarted by your skin, just barely strong enough to hold them back. Your face probably looked a bit sallow and nothing but bone; today had been a taxing endeavor, both physically and emotionally. You’d kill for a nap—or any sleep—right about now.

You nervously walked up to the floating mirror, your movements stiff and tense, like a frightened deer.

You were ready to come face to face with your deathly reflection, but instead of your face, there was a mask instead. It looked like a floating porcelain mask that had its own free will, making subtle changes in facial expression and everything. It had a black lacy design in the shape of a masquerade mask around its eyes. ‘Probably has an edgy personality too,’ you added as an afterthought when you noticed the dancing green flames in the background. You couldn’t help but feel that it looked vaguely familiar…

“State thy name.” It spoke with a finality in its tone.

‘So, it talks too, huh? Oh, it’s probably one of those facial motion capture programs. Look at this man; it feels like he’s trying to match the same energy that the Wizard of Oz had. Nobody can live up to that legend of a man.’

“(y/n) (l/n).”

You subtly glanced around the room with your eyes, not moving your head, to try and see if there was a ‘man behind the curtain’ somewhere. You didn’t even see a curtain. Just a bunch of coffins and cloaked people.

‘I’m sorry, are those coffins? I can see better than before but not well enough to make out the finer details, but I can tell those look coffin shaped. Like the kind you would see in Scooby-Doo. Does that mean Crowley said I was transported here in a coffin?! What the fuck, man.’

“The shape of thy soul is…” the mask paused for dramatic effect… okay, for a lot of dramatic effect because this was a long pause. “I do not know.”

‘…what was the point in the dramatic pause, then?’

“Come again?” Crowley sounded like he was about to go into shock.

“I sense not a spark of magic from this one… The color, the shape, all are nothing,” the mask roasted you. “Therefore, they are suited for no dormitory.”

‘Rude but I guess that is kind of how it works? After all, magick is just convincing reality and the world around you to bend to your whims by performing certain actions. So, it’s like being a bender from avatar. But instead of the elements, its reality, sort of. Bending the world’s natural magick… But still, fuck you. I may just be a beginner, but I’m still a witch…wait, unless it’s talking about ‘sleight of hand’ magic. Is this like a Hogwarts school or like a Houdini school?’’

People started murmuring in the audience you now had, staring at you, judging you. You could feel a lump in your throat start to form, a telltale sign of the beginning of an anxiety attack.

“An Ebony Carriage would absolutely never go to meet someone who can’t use magic!” Crowley sounded stunned and frustrated. “In one hundred years, there has not once been a mistake in student selection. So why in the world…” Since Crowley was so wrapped up in what was going on, he failed to notice that his grasp on the creature had loosened.

“Pah!” The gray creature, which you think is a cat since you can see better now, exclaimed as he freed himself. “Then I’ll take their place!”

“Stay right there! Raccoon!” Crowley’s attention was now directed on the freed rabid cat.

“Unlike that dumb human, I can use magic! Let me in the school instead! If you need proof, I’ll show you right now!” The little cat exclaimed

‘Wait, what does he mean by proof? If he’s about to do what I think he’s about to do… then shit.’

“Everyone, get down!” The same voice you heard when Crowley and you entered spoke.

‘Don’t have to tell me twice,’ you lowered yourself to the ground and laid on your stomach; the back of your head was still throbbing, so you didn’t want to chance irritating it more by lying on your back. You crossed your arms in front of your face on the ground so you could comfortably rest your head in the crook of your elbow. Laying like this made your hood fall further over you face, obstructing the top half of the room from your view. The bottom half was all you needed to see though, as the cat spewed blue flames around the room—the same flames that made you panic inside the coffin.

“Waaaah! Hottttt! My butt’s on fire!” You heard an animated voice yell.

“At this rate, the school will be a sea of fire!” You heard Headmaster Crowley shouted. “Somebody, catch that raccoon!”

You heard some of the people in the room bicker about who should go after him, not because of the fear of being burned, but because they were being lazy and saw it as a hassle. ‘Well, I’ve got a bone to pick with him anyway,’ you sighed and stood up, casually walking over to the cat. There was fire everywhere, but you couldn’t find the energy to care. You were tired and hurt and probably concussed, and you had had enough. If your clothes catch fire, you can just stop, drop, and roll. God, you were so done with all this.

So you walked through the hot flames, no doubt getting some burns on your legs from the ordeal, and the slacks you wore that weren’t even yours didn’t burn easily, but the flames still managed to burn several holes through it. The cat didn’t notice you approaching, preoccupied with yelling at the bickering students. Luckily, the cat made sure there were no fires surrounding them, so you got a break from the heat. You took a moment to pat out the fires on your pants and the bottom of your cloak using the ridiculously large sleeves of your cloak. Satisfied that you weren’t burning anymore, you reached for the cat and lifted them up by hooking your hands in its armpits. They screeched at the unexpected flight lesson and immediately began to squirm.

“Alright, I think you’ve done enough. I’m sick of your shit, so cut it out before I choke you ‘til you pass out,” you blandly said to the cat since you were, as you put it, sick of their shit.

“Unhand me you stupid human!” They demanded as they wriggled in your grasp. You held them tighter. You could feel the others staring at you, completely silent for a few seconds before someone broke the quiet.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” That familiar voice of the stranger shouted, a heart-shaped collar suddenly appearing around the cat’s neck.

“Nygah! The heck is this!?” The cat shrieked and started tugging at the collar.

“Laws of the Queen of Hearts Number 23: "One shall never bring a cat into a festival," you could now see that the familiar voice belonged to a student with red hair, red as in bright ruby red. “You being a cat means you've broken the rule. I shall have you leave at once.”

“I'm not a cat!!” The cat denied the truth. “I'll burn this collar right up and… E—eh? I can't use my fire!”

“Hmph! You won't be using any magic until I remove the collar. Just like an ordinary cat,” the redhead explained.

“Wh-what?! I'm not some pet!” He’s a strong independent cat who don’t need no man.

“Don't worry, I'd never keep a pet like you,” fuck, that redhead can roast. “I'll take it off anyway when you get thrown out.”

“Wow, as wonderful as ever. Any and all magic gets sealed by your Unique Magic, Riddle,” another student spoke, this one had light colored hair.

‘Would you call that shade a pale lavender or periwinkle?’ You questioned his hair color.

He mumbled something inaudible under his breath before speaking up, “No, I wouldn't ever want that cast on me.”

“You must do something about this! It is your familiar!” Crowley shouted at you again.

You sighed, frustrated. “He’s not mine.”

“Properly discip... eh? It's not yours?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time, but it seems I couldn’t get it past that thick skull of yours,” You couldn’t stop some of the irritated sass from leaking out.

“Y-you did?” Crowley looked rightfully embarrassed as he cleared his throat. “Anyway, let's get it out of the school at any rate. We won't turn you into a stew. For I am gracious. Someone help, please.” Another student took the cat from your arms and carried him towards the door.

“Gyaaaa! Let me go!” The cat protested, desperation thick in their tone. “I'm going to, going to… Become the greatest magician!” Those were his final words as he was thrown out of the room.

“We had a bit of trouble along the way, but this brings the entrance ceremony to a close,” Crowley said with a pleased tone of finality. “Dormitory Heads, please show the new students back to the dormitories.”

This didn’t really concern you anymore, what with being rejected by a mirror of all things. So, you stood there, starting to space out.

‘…wait a damn minute. If that was a fire-breathing cat, then… the kind of magic they’re talking about is… real fucking magic. Like fantasy world, Dungeons and Dragons’ kind of magic: flashy fireballs and eldritch blasts… What the actual fuck is going on? Have I been drugged? Is this just a real bad acid trip? I know I’m not dreaming because I feel like DIO used Road Roller on me. What’s gonna happen to me? Because something definitely went wrong with that mirror since it rejected me and holy shit what are they gonna do to me? Is this gonna be something like a ‘you know our secret so we can’t allow you to live’ kinda deal? Am I gonna die? Is that why they had coffins prepared? Are they gonna shove me into one of those and bury me al—’ you were snapped out of your thoughts when the headmaster waved his hand in front of your face. Glancing around, you saw that you two were now the only occupants in the room.

“There you are,” he pulled his hand away from your face. “Well then, (y/n), I’m terribly sorry about this but… We must have you leave the school. Those without any talent for magic cannot be allowed to attend class here.” He must have noticed you tense up when he said that, because you thought that meant disposing of you. “There is no need to worry. The Dark Mirror will send you directly back from whence you came. Enter the Gate, and picture your home clearly in mind…”

You did as he told, picturing where you last were when you had began your meditation. Feeling very much like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, you found yourself chanting ‘there’s no place like home’ in your head.

“Oh, Dark Mirror!” Crowley called out. “Guide this one back to the place they belong!” A moment of silence. “Once more. Oh, Dark Mirror! Guide this—”

“It is nowhere…” the mirror interrupted.

Your eyes snapped open, a tight strained smile on your face. ‘I’m sorry, the fuck did you just say?’ Crowley seemed to have a similar dumbfounded reaction.

“The place they belong is nowhere in this world; it does not exist.”

“What did you say?” Crowley voice the pg-13 version of your thoughts. “That is unbelievable! Hmm, well, the unbelievable has been on parade today.”

‘Uh, yeah. There was a goddamn fire breathing cat ready to kill us all.’

“This is the first time it’s ever happened since I became Headmaster, what should be… Where exactly did you come from?” Crowley asked you.

“Uhh… Do you just want the country, or do you need the planet’s name since the mirror said I don’t belong in this world?”

“Just the country is fine.”

“Well, I’m from (country), but I have no idea how far away we are from it right now.”

“I’ve never heard of that place,” your stomach dropped at Crowley’s remark. “I have a general grasp of where all the students came from, but I’ve never even heard that name before… If you really are not of this world, then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to know your planet’s name.”

“Well, I’m from Earth.”

“Earth? As in the ground, soil, dirt?” He sounded like he didn’t really believe you. “Well that’s not very helpful, but I suppose you could call any planet ‘earth’ if you so wished. Well, no matter,” he clapped his hands in finality. “Let’s go do some research in the library.

“Who in their right mind would name a planet after its dirt?” You heard Crowley mumble under his breath as you followed him, clearly trying to keep you from hearing him, but that didn’t work out so well.

‘I think it might be the other way around, where we made another word for dirt named after the planet itself.’

You and Crowley made it back to the Library where you were before, but this time you could see just how large it was since Crowley turned the lights on. Using his magic, he practically summoned various historical books and world maps that showed the different countries and borders that were present at certain time periods.

Your vision was still too blurry to read, but you could still make out shapes fairly well, so you stuck to looking through the various world maps. The first thing you noticed were the continents: they were all wrong. You didn’t recognize any of them, though they were consistent across all the maps you had in front of you. These were not Earth’s continents. Desperate, you looked closer at the borders of different countries to see if any looked familiar, squinting to see if you could even have a possibility of reading the names.

You take a deep breath, ‘Okay, (y/n). You’re a-okay. There’s an explanation for this. I’m sure of it. Maybe you just astral projected on accident or something. Okay. You can deal with that. You’ve read about how to get back to your body. You can do it.’ You visualized a cord of sorts connecting the you here to the you that you remember meditating at home. And then you pulled. You opened your eyes and— ‘…I’m still here.’

“There really isn't anything,” Crowley was the first to break the silence. “Not only the world map, but the name of your home isn't written in any history. Are you truly from where you say? You aren't lying to me by chance?”

“No! Why the hell would I lie about any of—" you gestured around you wildly “—of this?!” You must have looked absolutely terrible because you saw Crowley almost look a little guilty for his accusation.

“Looking at all this, you may have somehow been brought here from another planet, after all... There's also the possibility you're from another world.”

“I really am an alien, aren’t I?” You could feel a lump rising in your throat, that previously pending anxiety suddenly rapidly rising. You sadly chuckled out a resigned ‘fuck’ and rested your forehead against the table, your hands grasping, digging into the back of your head. You could tell you were spiraling, but you couldn’t do anything about it. Your breaths quickened as bad thoughts and worries about what the hell is going to happen to you now kept infiltrating your head without pause. You tried to take deep breaths, only for your breath to hitch and prevent that. ‘Okay, okay, we can do this; mantra time,’ the only other way you knew that helped you calm down was to repeat an unrelated mantra in your head until you stopped hyperventilating. ‘The—the mitochondria… is the powerhouse of the cell**. The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.’ You repeated that phrase as best you could, both in your thoughts and aloud.

Eventually, you were able to get your breathing back under control. ‘Okay…okay. We’re good. I’m good. I’m fine.’

Crowley cleared his throat, obviously not used to being in these kinds of situations and continued as if nothing happened. “What did you have on you when you came here? Do you have any identification, like a license for a magic car, name on a shoe… You appear to be empty-handed.”

You gave your pockets a quick pat down. “I got nothin’.”

“This is concerning. I can't just let someone who can't use magic to stay at school. However, as an educator, I can't just toss a penniless teenager out on the street with no form of communication. For I am gracious.”

‘…Teenager? You know what, I’m not gonna correct him. It’ll probably benefit me more to let him think I’m a minor.’

“Hmmmm… That's right! There is an unused building on campus. It was once used as a dormitory in the past so if you can clean it up, you should at least be able to sleep there. For the time being, I shall allow you to stay there! Then I will look for a way for you to return home. My graciousness is limitless! I am a model for all educators. We had better be on our way. Let's head to the dormitory. It may be a bit old but there is a certain charm to it.”

You felt bad for the poor librarians who would have to clean up your mess. You couldn’t stay to do it yourself because Crowley already took off, his long legs giving him a longer stride, making you speed walk in order to keep up with him. You couldn’t wait to lie down and rest your aching body.

*Confederate statues in the US—getting rid of the scary white men but keeping the horses: https://youtu.be/aFgGazYzDPo

** “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” is easy to remember (since it’s been ingrained in all of our heads) and is completely unrelated to most causes of an anxiety attack. Unless it’s a bio test.

Okay, so, I wasn’t expecting to get to 6,000 words but here we are. So we have a witch reader, and by witch I mean drawing sigils and making spell jars and such. Let’s see how long it takes for the reader’s adrenaline to run out and realize just how badly they’re hurt. Also, reader is probably end up being a babysitter for those overgrown toddlers (you know who I’m talking about). You thought boarding school would mean getting away from parental figures? Ha! Think again! Cuz the reader is gonna step up and fill that role because these poor boys are young and stupid. But that’ll have to wait until after the reader gets some proper medical attention.

Chapter 2

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epic-potato-crisp · 3 years

Text

Courtship - Part 2 (AjinWeek2020/7)

Notes:

Part 2 is here after...a year?

Originally, this was supposed to be posted for Ajin Week 2020 Day 7: Anything goes. The whole story was just supposed to be two chapters, however I want to expand it a little and now we're at looking at 3-4. Stay tuned for further updates! (I'm considering whether Twilight is the right choice for their movie night. It's very temping. There are five (5) movies and so very little of Kei's patience.)

———————————————-

“I’m sorry, what?” Tosaki says.

Yeah, Kei probably shouldn’t have agreed to this. On the other hand, the look of pure bewilderment on his team leader’s face replaces about a month of entertainment for him. At the very least. It’s a fair deal.

“We’re dating.” Kou explains sheepishly, for the second time, scratching at his neck.

“Since when?” Hirasawa asks, appearing just as invested as he is amused.

Izumi hasn’t said anything yet, instead observing them in silence.

“Since like right now.” Kou says, laughing awkwardly, “It was pretty spontaneous. Right, Kei?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Kei responds briskly.

“Hey, you just said yes!” Kou argues, his brows furrowing.

“And I’m regretting it more and more.” Kei snipes back.

“Oof, boys, 20 minutes in and trouble in paradise already. It’s not looking good, huh?” Ogura comments.

“It’s just a…trial.” Kei says, anxiety still spiking up in him months later at the thought of the any kind of experiment, “For a week. More for research purposes than anything.”

“Research purposes, now we’re talking.” Ogura chimes in, “What’s your hypothesis? Are you going to need help evaluating the data?”

“Can you even evaluate a relationship that way?” Hirasawa argues, “In numbers? That sounds strange to me.”

“Well, plenty of psychological studies say yes, so.” Ogura shrugs, “So Nagai, what’s your deal?”

“The hypothesis is that seven days of close interaction will not lead to me murdering him.” Kei glares in Kou’s direction, “And that he will shut up about my dating life.”

Kou coughts out something that suspiciously sounds like “what life”, for which Kei elbows him in the ribs, hard.

“Yeah, what he said.” Kou wheezes, returning the glare in kind.

“And we’re not really going to write a report about it. We’re just letting it run simultaneously. Would that be with you?” Kei asks.

Tosaki stares at them for a full minute and then leaves the room without another word.

“I’ll just be-“ Izumi says, apologetically, hurriedly following after him.

“You boys have my blessing.” Hirasawa says, winking at them and toasting in their direction with his barley tea.

“Mine too, with a little extra sprinkle of blessing on top if you do take a few notes about it.” Ogura says, “From a sociological perspective, it’s pretty hilarious. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Fine, I can do that.” Kei says, “I’m bored as it is.”

They take their leave.

“Well, you’re not going to be bored for long with me around.” Kou says, once they’re out of earshot, grinning at him brightly.

Kei grimaces. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

Kei hadn’t believed that dating Kou would be difficult- to be truthful, he hadn’t considered the situation at all, but here they were. But reality is a whole different obstacle.

First, there’s the hand-holding. It’s been a good while since Kei had held hands with anyone, frankly, when he was in elementary school and crossing the street with Eriko, and that had been more of a safety precaution than anything. It’s an unnecessary amount of touch in his opinion, the sweaty entanglement of fingers grossing him out in theory. In practice…it’s not really that bad.

Kou slips his hand into Kei’s, that evening as they’re taking a walk around the forest. It comes as a surprise to him. They had just been strolling around aimlessly for a while, trying to clear their head from a day of training and the awkward conversation earlier. Lost in his own thoughts, Kei startles a little at the sudden physical contact.

“The cicadas are really fucking loud, aren’t they?” Kou says, almost nonchalantly. Kei notices that his grip, although confident at first, loosens a little in hesitation, giving Kei the opportunity to pull away. He considers it. However, instead of sticky and oppressive, the touch is comforting somehow. Which is weird, considering there is no purpose to it. But then, there is no purpose to this entire trial run, Kei concludes, which makes up his mind. He hums noncommittally and squeezes back. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how the other’s face lights up in surprise. “Maybe they just have a lot to talk about.” Kou stumbles to add. “Maybe they’re just as chatty as you.” Kei replies sarcastically. Kou laughs. “Yeah, probably.” he agrees, grinning. They continue walking until dusk approaches, coloring the sky in shades of purple and blue.

Izumi’s waiting for them when they get back with two glasses of chilled water. They say their thanks, Kou gulping down his water in a flash and wiping his mouth with his arm.

“Ah man, thought I was going to die of thirst.” he says, sighing blissfully as he goes in for a refill.

“Literally impossible in that short of a time span.” Kei corrects him, but he too can’t help a small sigh of relief. August brings about a heat wave that makes him even more grateful for the air conditioning at the hideout. He regrets to think that he “voluntarily” signed up for a training camp during this very time of the year when he could have instead spent his days in his room doing practice questions. Pure insanity. He’ll definitely get Sato back for this.

“By the way, Tosaki-san is okay with you… dating.” Izumi explains, “He was just a bit overwhelmed at the situation.”

Not only him, Kei thinks grimly.

“Well, it’s just for a week!” Kou interjects, with an embarrassed laugh, “We’re not sure about anything yet, you know?” Kei side-eyes him hard. His attempts at preserving his chances with Izumi-san are obvious enough that it’s almost pitiable. “Well, I am. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to spend the rest of my life dating someone like you.” he scoffs, which should serve Nakano’s agenda well, ignoring the slight constriction ins his chest. The walk must have tired out his muscle more than he realized.

“So he is okay with it?”

“Well.” Izumi bites her lip, “He said that by your mere existence, you’ve ruled out his two biggest concerns, so after that he doesn’t really care what happens. Unless it jeopardizes your training, of course.”

Yes, that does sound indeed like Tosaki.“And those concerns are?” Kei asks, genuinely curious.

“You can’t get pregnant and you can’t die.” she says, matter-of-fact. Kou chokes on his water.

“In that particular order, in case you were wondering.” she adds, rolling her eyes.

“Wow.”says Kei, any other words temporarily not coming to mind.

That’s one obstacle removed.

For some strange reason, having a boyfriend doesn’t magically remove Kei’s above average exhaustion after what the others refer to as one instance of basic interval training.

“I can carry you the rest of the way.” Kou grins, kneeling beside Kei who is currently wheezing into the ground, fingers digging into the earth. Thirty situps, followed by half an hour of jogging? Give him a break. He’s been through 15 and already wishes he were six feet under.

Permanently, that is.

“Are you dumb?” Kei coughs out, “How on earth would I benefit from that exercise?”

“Well, you could rest- you seriously sound like you’re gonna pass out any second.” Kou pointed out, “And I could get some strength training in. Win-win. I know I’m strong enough to carry you.” He has the audacity to wink at Kei.

“Hirasawa-san!” Kou yells and runs over to where the older man is standing and timing them. With Kou gesturing broadly while explaining, and Hirasawa nodding eventually, Kei knows his fate is sealed.

“Pick me up.” He says, lethargically stretching his limbs skywards once Kou comes back for him.

“Just get on my back like a normal person.” Kou laughs at his purposeful display of weakness, “Unless you really want the bridal carry?”

“Hell no.”

“Your choice, Nagai.”

Remarkably enough, riding on Kou’s shoulders is not as bad as an experience as Kei had imagined it to be. He gets a ride across their training grounds, coupled with brilliant view of the clear blue sky and puffy clouds that drift by without a care in the world, and his only physical exertion is reserved for clinging to his teammate just enough so that he doesn’t fall off.

Which is to say minimal. For all his bragging, Nakano really does have profound upper body strength.

“See? Told you I could easily carry you!” Kou teases.

Easily.

Kei doesn’t know what does it, the confidence emblazoning his tone, the mere fact that Nakano was right or the reality of the situation where he picked him up and carried him around like it was nothing.

Kei’s heart starts to beat a little faster.

“I’m not sharing a bed with you.” Kei declares, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What’s the big deal? Couples do it all the time.” Kou says.

It’s close to midnight and he’s standing at Kei’s door, armed with his phone and a pillow.

“Yes, but we’re not a couple.

“We are for this week.” Kou points out and damn, he is right. He pouts at Kei.

“So we only have a week. Please, Nagai?”

“You know how I feel about physical contact.” Kei glances back at his bed, which looks perfectly designed to host one person, and one person only. As it should.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to cuddle. Unless that’s…something you want?” Kou throws him an inquisitive gaze, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Of course it’s not, you moron!” Kei snaps back, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“Well then what the hell is your issue?” Kou says, slightly frustrated.

“I don’t want to share a bed with you, that’s it. Good night.”

Kei slams the door close in his face.

He hears his teammate/boyfriend-for-the-week groan and the head of to God knows where.

Kei fortifies his resolve – he doesn’t even need to give a reason, and yet he gave perfectly acceptable to deny his overnight stay.

Perhaps that’s his only issue.

Perhaps he also doesn’t want Kou to be able to listen to his steadily accelerating heartbeat whether they’re in close proximity.

But that’s something Kou is better of not knowing about.

Little by little, the hand-holding is integrated in their daily routine. Not when anyone can see them. And only if there’s nothing immediate that needs to be done. A brush of fingers as they pass each other in the hallway. Kou’s hand naturally slipping into Kei’s as they’re watching a video on his phone. Kou’s fingers grasping for Kei’s in the middle of a team meeting, right under the table, and Kei holding on for just a second too long, a scene that he will replay in embarrassment in his memories later.

Sometimes Kei wishes it wouldn’t feel as comfortable as it does, because this too is something that he will have to erase once their week comes to an end.

“Oh yeah, can we use the room later?” Kou asks, three days into their trial, barely swallowing down his food in time to ask the question. Which is directed at Tosaki, an unspoken agreement that comes with trying to sort out most hideout-related issues. Because the man really is the only person that would find a problem with that, Kei thinks grimly, and isn’t disappointed.

“For what?” Tosaki asks, suspicion setting into his features. Or perhaps that’s just his default look these days.

“Like, for a movie night?” Kou says, “The screen in here is really big.”

There is dead silence. Kei picks at his soba and tries to stave off his oncoming headache.

“Why?”

“Dunno, cause we want to have one?” Kou tilts his head curiously, “If you guys aren’t gonna use it, we can have it, right?”

Ogura tries to turn his laugh into a cough, failing miserably.

“Yeah, Yuu, don’t be such a spoilsport. Let them have it.”

“What are you calling me?”

“I already said I’m cool with Ikuya, you’d just have to stop being so uptight about it.” Ogura shrugs, gesturing at him with his chopsticks.

“This room is reserved in the evenings.” Tosaki grits out between his teeth, ignoring Ogura’s third consecutive attempt that day to get under his skin, if Kei is keeping count correctly.

“Damn it. “ Kou sighs, “You can’t make an exception?”

Tosaki’s eyebrow twitches.

“Wouldn’t a couch be more comfortable than chairs?” Hirasawa interjects, right before Kou can continue in what Kei knows is a losing battle, “There’s one in the storage room. It’s a little battered, but it will do the job.”

“Yeah, I actually think there’s a projector in their too.” Manabe says, “You won’t need a screen. We’ll just get the laptop hooked up. Kind of like a home cinema.” He smiles nostalgically at the prospect: “Haven’t been to one in ages.”

Tosaki sighs.

“Hell yeah.” Nakano says, pumping his fist. He grins at Kei: “What do you say, Nagai?”

“Whatever.” Kei says, despite feeling strangely excited at the idea, taking another bite to avoid further conversation.

Izumi appears thoughtful. “I might be subscribed to a streaming service, if I remember correctly.” she says, “So make use of that if you will.”

“It will be better than risking a computer virus.” she adds, awkwardly, as Tosaki shoots a glare in her direction.

“Izumi-san, Hirasawa-san, Manabe-san, you’re the best!” Kou proclaims loudly, his body positively vibrating with excitement, “This will be the most amazing movie night ever!”

Hirasawa chuckles. “You’re welcome. We’ll help you set it up right after dinner.”

“And I’ll check the wifi and my login details.” Izumi says, pointedly avoiding eye contact with her boss.

“I’m glad everyone has their priorities for the evening sorted.” Tosaki says icily.

Kou gives Kei a winning grin, which seems to say: “I promised you a movie night, and I made it happen.”

For all intents and purposes, Kei is the slightest bit impressed. Which is yet another tidbit of information Nakano doesn’t need to possess.

“You better not make me sit through one of your dumb action movies.” he mutters, instead.

This is going to be a long night.

#ajin #ajin demi human #ajinweek20 #ajin fanfic #courtship

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