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beskarhearts · 3 years

Text

Tangled (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

Word count: over

Warnings: lots of cursing (reader has the mouth of a sailor), a little ~steaminess~, mentions of canon typical violence/getting shot, sexual tension

Summary: You and Peña were no strangers to being at each others throats but this argument went a little different than any other had.

Notes: This was cliche and self indulgent but I loved it and I hope you do too. Let me know your thoughts and opinions!! (also probably not going to turn this into a series but it isn't impossible ig)

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You charged towards the file room, feeling every ounce of your body flooded with anger as Murphy trailed after you, pitifully trying the stop the damage that was just about to occur.

"It didn't come from a bad place!"

You sporadically came to a halt, turning on your heels and pointing a finger right in Murphy's face, who had nearly crashed into you at your sudden movement. "Don't you dare try to justify this!"

Murphy's face was crumpled into a hesitant type of acceptance, still following you as you continued walking towards the file room, your anger radiating even in each harsh step you took. Once you reached the door, you slammed it open and nearly crashed it into Murphy as you threw it shut again, your eyes trained on the man you were directing every angry, foul thought at.

"Javier Peña, you fucking asshole!" you yelled, your pointer finger now directed at him as he turned to face you. You felt even angrier when he appeared to look at you tiredly at first, face twisted into an expression that perfectly read 'What now?' It didn't change until he registered your rigid body language and the way your face was a shade darker and your brows that were scrunched up.

Then his face dropped slightly and he looked over your shoulder at Murphy, who looked like a kicked puppy with the way he seemed to cower behind you. "You told her?"

Murphy winced slightly, trying to shrug away his concerns but his voice coming out empathetic. "She kind of interrogated me."

"Yeah. Y'know, because interrogations are part of the job!" you spat, eyes shooting venom at the brown-eyed DEA agent that stood in front of you.

He dropped the file he had held in his hand back in a box, placing his newly unoccupied hands on his hips and sending you a plain look. "Listen, it was nothing-"

"You know what else is part of my job, Peña?" you interrupted, allowing him no room to throw around pitiful remarks and false explanations of why what he did was okay. "Let me tell you since you have clearly forgotten: part of my job is catching the bad guys. Meaning I am fully capable of being on the field and getting my hands dirty!"

You took in a deep breath, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from the rage coursing through your veins. Peña let out a small sigh, rubbing at his face and his mustache as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "I know."

You let out an agitated huff, throwing your hands up and looking over at Murphy, as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. You turned back to the DEA agent, clasping your hands together. "Let me get this clear then. You are aware that is part of my job. And that this fucking case has become my whole entire life. Yet you neglect to notify me that tomorrow you are going to arrest one of these motherfuckers and don't put me on the God damn team!"

You probably should of quieted down. Surely people could hear you outside the thin walls of the room you were in but you paid no attention to that. Hell, let them gather outside the door and listen to how much of an asshole Javier fucking Peña was. It wasn't like they hadn't heard you two bicker and yell at each other before - it was practically a daily occurrence. You were always at each others throats and the smallest thing could tick you guys off but today was different. Today your anger was completely justified and directed at the exact right person.

"Why don't we all calm down and talk this over calmly?" Steve gently tried to suggest, always the voice of reason during times like these. Sometimes you would entertain his ideas but today was not one of those days.

"Fuck off, Murphy!" you snapped.

Peña redirected his attention to the blond-haired agent. "Give me a minute."

"Oh, you are going to try to magically explain this one away?" you ridiculed as Murphy left the room quietly, shutting the door gently and leaving you two alone.

Javier looked back at you, looking calm as ever and unaffected in every way. It only made your blood bubble even more and as he spoke, you felt your whole body clench up. "You need to calm down."

You hissed at that comment, literally hissed. "Oh, fuck off! You have no right to tell me to calm down. If somebody did this to you, you'd be tearing into their ass and acting like a bitch."

Javier couldn't argue that point, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only was it true, but there was no way he could convince you it wasn't. It also was probably the worst thing to say in this given situation, always was something that tipped you off.

"I mean, the fucking audacity you have is unbelievable. Truly impressive." you started to ramble, still sending a deadly glare his way. "You think you are hot shit because you are Javier Peña and you are a DEA agent and the fucking man whore of Columbia. But I am just as good as you, Peña. Hell, I am probably fucking better!"

"You are right."

You froze as you heard his agreement, biting your lip as you tried to detect whether or not that was meant to be some sarcastic play to rile you up. But it appeared genuine which only confused you further. "Then why am I being excluded from extremely important events?"

"It's dangerous." Peña answered plainly, adding no additional details as if that was enough.

You scoffed, tilting your head at him. "No shit, Peña. No offense but no one becomes a DEA agent because it is a safe, secure job. So that doesn't explain why I wasn't included in this."

Peña shook his head, leaning against the rack of files as he looked back at you. You wanted to force him to look away, his stare making you uncomfortable but there was no way you were backing down. "It does. This one is particularly dangerous and I don't want you involved."

Your eyes widened as you took in this new information. "Oh, so you think I can't handle myself?"

"I never said that-"

"I can handle myself, Peña. I am a fucking adult and not to sound cocky, but a hell of a fucking agent. I am capable and I am strong!"

"I know."

"And I can handle this mission."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck did I have to find out from Murphy that I am not joining you guys tomorrow?" you yelled, feeling your body become slightly fatigued from all the anger but you still stood straight and tall.

"Because you care too much and you'll get yourself killed if that means nailing these guys." Peña said plainly. No hint of emotion or manipulation. Just an honest answer to an honest question.

You found yourself for the first time not feeling angry but slight bamboozled. It felt like the rug had been pulled under your feet. You were standing across fucking Javier Peña, who you were pretty sure had never seen take a single day off. "That is the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard."

Peña nodded. "Okay."

You rolled your eyes, feeling once again angry by the dismissal. "Well fuck off because I spoke to everybody and I am on the team tomorrow."

You began to turn towards the exit when the man firmly stated, "No."

You turned back around, an eyebrow raised. "Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"I'm in charge tomorrow and you aren't on." Peña said, a sliver of annoyance eeking out of his words as he looked back at you with a stern glare.

"Fuck off. If I want to go, I'll go." you fired back, arms crossing over your chest defiantly.

Peña stepped closer to you until he was a couple feet away, his voice lowering to a menacingly deep level. "I don't want you on tomorrow."

Your eyes were practically shooting bullets in his direction. "I know you don't fucking like me Peña, but stop acting like a school boy and get your head out of your ass."

"Maybe you are the one with your head up your ass, agent." Peña cooly said.

You tried to ignore the way he was looking at you (and the way you could smell his aftershave from here) and put your hands on your hips. "Fuck you, Peña. You don't want me on tomorrow because I am a better agent than you, you selfish prick."

"That isn't it." Peña said with a chuckle, shaking his head as if you were saying the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"It fucking is, isn't it? You don't want me strolling into your operation and doing the job better than you. Can't have your huge fucking ego tarnished by me!"

"That is not the reason why!" Peña shouted back, feeling himself lose his temper slightly.

This was the Peña you were used to, the one you egged on and led into a battle of cruel words and hateful glares. "Oh, fuck off. That is absolutely why!"

"Maybe, just fucking maybe-" Peña cut himself off, his chest now heaving as he copied your pose, hands on his hips and body stood straight.

You couldn't help the small grin that grew on your face. "What is it, Peña? Say it. Don't punk out now when things were just getting interesting."

"You are a child." Peña spat back.

You chuckled harshly. "Look in the mirror before you start throwing insults around, Peña. Now what were you going to say?"

Peña stared back at you, your eyes locked together in a visceral manner. "I don't want you to fucking die."

You couldn't help the throaty laugh that erupted from your very core, your head thrown back as you looked away from him for the first time to try to gather your composure. "Oh, fucking please! Spare me. You have never given a shit for me!"

Peña shook his head, looking slightly deflated as he looked away from you. "Fuck off."

"Oh, don't act like that. I am just supposed to stand here and believe that this whole time you've secretly cared about my safety and you don't have me on the operation tomorrow in order to keep me safe?"

Peña looked back up at you and you nearly wavered from the look in his eyes. You couldn't handle it if it were the truth, which the look he gave you said it was, so you continued on doing what you did best. "I don't need anybody to protect me. Certainly not you, Javier Peña."

"I'm not trying to protect you."

You lifted up a hand emphatically. "So you didn't not put me on this because you don't want me to die?"

"Fucking hell, you are so frustrating." Peña yelled back, face red and eyes throwing daggers as he stepped even closer to you.

You didn't dare take a single step back. You would show no fear or weakness. "And you are such a walk in the park? I forgot about how the man-whore of Columbia was always just a pleasant-"

You were cut off by Peña lunging forward and for a split second you thought 'Oh, shit. I'm gonna have to kick Peña's ass.' That was until you felt a pair of rough, chapped lips press into yours mercilessly and a pair of calloused hands grab at the side of your face.

You stood still for a solid few seconds, your brain seeming to short-circuit until it slowly registered the undeniable truth of the situation: Javier Peña was fucking kissing you.

Well then push him off of you!

Except you didn't. For all intents and purposes, you should have. You should of shoved him off of you, yelled at him for trying to pull his 'sex god' card on you, and maybe even delivered a striking slap to his face, just for dramatic effect. But you didn't. You stood there completely still until eventually your hands reached for the collar of his jacket, roughly pulling him in until he was pressed so tightly to you that you didn't think there was an centimeter of distance between the two of you.

You felt him turn you, pushing you back until your back hit the same file cabinet he had been leaning against earlier. Your lips finally caught up with the rest of you, lips fighting dominantly against each other in a frantic battle. It probably wasn't the prettiest kiss but holy shit, you couldn't think of a time you had been kissed like this. The kiss was so striking but also so passionate, both of you fighting each other in the most deliriously addictive way. You couldn't ignore the smallest voice in the back of your brain asking you why you hadn't done this way earlier.

Eventually your tongues danced against each other, begging for even the smallest taste of each other like you were both addicts craving even the slightest taste from the bottle. His hands drifted away from your face to your hips, clutching them roughly and tightly but not hurting you in any way. Just gripping hard enough for you to feel them and feel the emotion.

Eventually, after what felt simultaneously likes hours but also mere seconds, Peña pulled away and holy fuck, how did he look so good? His lips were puffed and red, slightly wet from the sloppiness of the kiss. His eyes were hooded and looking at you in a way he had before but you had never been able to place, always mistaking the lustiness for hatred (and hold up, had it just been lust this whole time?). His jacket was still clutched tightly in your hands and you should of let go. Anyone could walk in and see him standing up against you on a shelf with your faces red and chests heaving but you couldn't even bother to care, your brain still reeling and your body betraying you, yearning for more.

"I'm going tomorrow." you said, still slightly out of breath.

Peña sighed, his warm breath fanning over you and smelling slightly of mint gum and stale cigarettes. "I know you are."

You nodded, glad to see his slow acceptance creep in. You slowly released the jacket, looking at how it had crinkled from how tightly you had pulled him to you. He backed up slowly, one small step at a time as his eyes still traced each others faces.

Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him again, fight with him again in the most delicious way but the door opened and you both turned to see the tall, blond-haired agent you had both become closer with than you initially thought possible.

"Have you guys killed each other?" he asked, trying to joke but also hesitant to with how foul your mood had been.

You desperately pulled away from the shelf and shook your head, though not to answer him but in some desperate attempt to try to shake away the evidence of what just happened (despite the fact that it was imprinted on your mind). "No. I'm going tomorrow."

Murphy shared a weary look with Peña who just gave a short nod and began to walk towards the exit. "She comes. If she gets shot, its not my problem."

You and Murphy both watched him slip past, moving out of the room and down the hall, away from you. Murphy twisted his head to look back at you, shaking his head. "Based off his behavior, I'd say that went well." he sarcastically mumbled.

You tried to chuckle but it sounded fake and hollow, your mind too preoccupied. "Yeah. Super well."

Murphy gave a roll of the eyes, used to the two of you being frustrated with the other as he slipped away from the doorway. You followed him as you made your way out of the room, the room where you still comprehend what exactly had happened in it. "You must of really went after each other this time."

You nearly choked at Murphy's quip, your mind taking a moment to realize he was speaking rhetorically about your arguing. He had no way to know the violent dance your lips had done or the way you both had perfectly expressed arousal and hatred with your tongues alone.

You just hummed, pushing past Murphy to head to your desk so you could work and just forget what had happened. Forget it because it meant nothing.

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [8]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, guns, anxiety

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: oh my god oh my god sam stans how are we feeling djkghdfjkhgdf. no thoughts only sam wilson in ep1 of tfatws <333

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Hey, I’m just going to step out for today.” You looked up from the doodle you were making on the corner of the paper. “Catch you later? Just find me if you need anything.”

“You okay?” You automatically sat up straighter, blanket creasing under you. Something was amiss in his body language.

“Yeah, just-” He seemed like he was struggling for words. “-Brooklyn.”

You didn’t get what he was making a reference to until it suddenly dawned on you.

It was the codeword he had suggested right at the beginning of your time in the house. If he was in danger you were sure he’d tell you, at least an inkling of information.

But no, this was for some time alone, further confirmed by the distant look in his eyes.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here if you need.”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, turning around and leaving the room.

You were left staring after him, the drawing you were making of the house layout discarded on the bed. You were working on strategies, vantage points- anything that could help in case something went wrong.

Was it because of the dumb ‘moment’ you had shared two days ago? It didn’t seem like it because he hadn’t brought it up at all and God knows you would never. Was it something else that had happened, something you did?

Stop overthinking. He probably just needs a day to himself.

You had spent almost a month in each other’s company and he had never once complained. He had a tendency to be petty about minor inconveniences, like you trying to watch a movie when his favourite segment on the local news channel was going on. He liked the cooking show they hosted.

He had never made it a point to specifically tell you that he needed some time to himself, much less use the word.

“Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself, shaking off the nagging feeling you had.

If he had an issue, he would have voiced it. He never shied away from doing that before and you knew he wouldn’t start now.

You forced yourself to think about something else, grabbing the copy of American Gods you had already gone over once before but were subjecting to a reread. Opening the page you had last left it at, you were determined to distract yourself.

Nearly twenty minutes later and exactly zero pages since you had started, you realised that no matter how much you forced yourself to get into it, you went over the same line over and over again, not a single word registering in your head.

“Motherfucker,” you groaned, letting the book fall on your face. You took a long look outside the window, mind drifting.

It was a nice day out. Maybe some sun would help.

You lifted your legs off the bed, taking your book with you to the kitchen. You could get a nice sandwich-- the same as the last three fuckin’ weeks but you digressed-- a glass of water, and you could sit outside for a while. A mini picnic.

You opened a new packet of sliced bread, taking two out before stopping. You pondered over whether you should make him a sandwich for when he returned, knowing that he didn’t eat lunch before he left.

You thought about it for a good minute before rolling your eyes, pulling out two additional slices to make him one as well. It was just a sandwich. It wasn’t a big deal.

Tucking your book under your arm, you carried your lunch and a glass of water to the patio around the back.

The wind rustled the leaves and the sun wasn’t harsh. The low buzz of insects was the only sound that kept you company.

The air was crisp and you instantly felt better than you had all day in the room.

Setting your stuff down on the bench, you sat down, inhaling deeply.

The book suddenly didn’t seem so impossible to complete as you tried once more, slipping into the pages easily. Even after you finished your food, you continued to lounge about there, too engrossed and content to move.

You didn’t notice the afternoon go by, evening coming and going just as swiftly. You swatted at the occasional fly but nothing else bothered you.

It felt like summer break. At least what you thought it would feel like. You never had one, being homeschooled about things from various people in the organization. There wasn’t a singular, long break. You were just forced to adapt.

You didn't know how to deal with the suffocating realisation of knowing there were so many things you missed out on. It grew the longer you spent time away. You just shoved it away, forcing yourself to deal with it another day.

He comes back when the sky is slipping into shades of orange, a backpack on his shoulder. There was a patch of sweat around his neck and his head was hung low as he walked.

“Hey,” you hoped it didn't look like you were waiting for him. It could easily be taken as you camping out there, waiting for your husband to return from a hard day in the fields.

Sam looked up at your greeting. You noted that the bruise on his nose was starting to change colour but the swelling had reduced from how bad it used to be.

“Left you a sandwich on the counter if you’re hungry,” you added. He nodded in acknowledgement, making his way up the stairs and into the house without another word.

You let out an exhale, feeling a little better knowing that he was at least back in one piece. No reason to believe otherwise other than the anxiety you had developed over imagining the worst case scenarios.

You picked up your book again, intending to finish off the last bit before you went back inside for the day.

About half an hour later Sam re-emerged from the house, your attention snapping to him as the door opened and shut. He had changed into a new pair of clothes, looking a little cleaner like he was fresh outta the shower. He had a sandwich in his hand that he had already taken a few bites out of. You wondered if it was the one you left for him.

You didn’t expect him to take a seat next to you on the bench. He didn’t look at you or open his mouth to talk so you followed suit. You continued reading, or at least tried to, as he just sat there, finishing his sandwich without any kind of other interaction.

There was a strange tension he wasn’t addressing. He instead leaned back, arms crossed behind his neck to support his neck and closed his eyes. His foot tapped against the wooden floor and rather than getting annoyed, you found solace in the repetition.

“They recruited me on this day,” Sam said to no one in particular. His eyes were still closed and his feet still tapped against the ground. “Parents died when I was a kid, I got shifted around orphanages and homes a lot. Finally Ransone had someone pick me up.”

You closed your book softly, setting it down beside you. That’s what was bothering him.

Secret adoption is what they called it officially in the business, but around the organization it was just known as the recruitment process. Every record of Sam being alive would have been destroyed to maintain anonymity.

To the world he just… disappeared.

It was a day that clearly brought with it so much pain. You were too young to remember when you joined, and no one had kept track either. You supposed it was for the good.

It was supposed to be a happy day, one filled with new beginnings. Maybe that’s what he would have thought when he got picked. It’s what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not having anything else to offer. You relieved your memories everyday in your head. Having a morbid anniversary of sorts would no doubt drain the life out of you; remembering one singular day that would trigger the rest of the decisions you made in your life.

He didn’t say anything in return. You turned your attention to the sky, finding it easier to look at that than the disturbed look on his face.

“Do you regret this?” he asked out of the blue.

“All of it,” you replied, without skipping a beat.

“Every single one, huh?” Sam’s one eye opened to peer at you.

“It wasn’t up to me to take someone’s life away.” You were just a child. You knew nothing other than what you were taught; so then why was it so fucking hard to forgive your past self for straying into this. “Even once I realised that I couldn’t leave.”

You didn’t form any relationships while you worked with Ransone. Whoever you did allow yourself to care for ended up dead or worse, sometimes as a cruel lesson to not make friends in the organization you worked in because all they served as were distractions and liabilities. Others were plain scum; people who you knew were using you but you didn’t care. The loneliness hurt worse.

“What about you?”

“I’d give anything to go back and change things,” he admitted. He didn’t have a say either. It didn’t make things easier.

“You regret all of ‘em too?”

“Mostly,” he said. “One of them I don’t.”

“That one must have deserved it then,” you deduced. It was the only logical explanation you could think of; the worst of the worst.

“Nah. I let him go.”

It took a while to register what he said.

“What?” You twisted your body to look at him.

“First mission I ever did.”

His hands were shaking lightly, barely holding on to the gun. This wasn’t what he was taught. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

He had already managed to get his way into the house through the back. His partner had taken care of most of it and Sam only had to knock people out. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet.

But now his partner was injured outside the door. Quick shot to the leg, a punch in the face and he was out cold. Sam was already in the master bedroom by the time it happened. He had no idea about where his partner was, only the crippling fear of being left alone and the nerves from the threat posed to him if this didn’t go right.

He knew he didn’t have enough time. He had only a few minutes to kill him and get out of there before his family returned.

The man itself was sitting at the study table, his back towards Sam. Just pull the trigger and get out of here. It was deadly silent.

“I know you’re here to kill me,” the man said suddenly. Sam nearly jumped but instead tightened the grip on the gun.

“Stay where you are.” He sounded confident.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” His chair swiveled around, letting him face Sam. His hair was white with a beard that matched. He was dressed down in his pajamas, a robe covering him. He didn’t look nervous.

“Stop talking.”

“You’re younger than what I expected,” the man observed, not paying heed to what Sam was in. He was a considerable distance away. “You’re not even legal yet, are you? I got kids, I would know.”

Sam didn’t say a word, only lifted his gun up to align with his forehead. “I said, stop talking.”

“I’ve made mistakes. Several, actually,” he mused, “It’s why your boss sent you here. I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Then it should be easy.”

“Oh, it never is,” the man chuckled. “It doesn’t get lighter. You learn to ignore it but it’ll weigh on you for the rest of your life.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. It would get easier. It had to.

“I doubt that’s what you heard, however,” he continued. “Ransone’s a bit… unstable. It’s in his blood, but you- you don’t look like you could live with it.”

Ransone’s history was well known enough that rival gang leaders knew it too, apparently. The man would have been delighted at his infamous reputation.

Just shoot him. Just shoot him and end this.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, taking a sip from the tumbler he had in his hand. “You’re going to be the last person I talk to. It’d be nice to have a name.”

“Sam,” he whispered, inwardly cursing himself.

“Sam. That’s a strong name,” the man said, clicking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Sam?”

It wasn’t.

“I don’t have a choice.” He hated how defeated he sounded. It was a weakness.

“They want you to believe that. It takes away your freedom. I would know, I’ve used it.” The man smiled, setting down his glass. “I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

“Stop talking, man.” Sam pulled the safety off.

“Once you go down this way, there’s no way you can escape. Someone will always have to die; either him or you.”

“That’s not true.” He could leave at any time. He just needed-

“You’ll see for yourself.” The man leaned back on his chair, resigned. “But for now, go ahead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He simply closed his eyes and sat back.

You waited for Sam to continue.

“Couldn’t do it,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “Son of a bitch got in my head and I knew what he was doing too. Told him to get the fuck out before my partner shot him in the face.”

“Does Ransone know?” You were still reeling from the incident he recounted. You didn't know what else to say.

“Holds it over me every damn day,” he scoffed. “Some fucked up way of saying that I owe him one.”

To be frank, you were surprised Sam was still alive to tell you. Everyone knew that Ransone forgiven the first mistake someone made, but this was huge. If it were anyone else, he would have had someone try out a hundred different ways to push Sam to the brink of death and back; having him begging for the release that death would bring.

“He hasn’t ever cashed in that favour?”

“He did. Had me take out the leader of the Ten Rings after that.”

“So then why did you still continue?”

“I did something extremely dangerous a couple of years ago that he found out about recently. Used that to get me to come for this mission.”

He didn’t elaborate what he meant and you didn’t ask him to. You supposed it was a story for another day. This was heavy enough.

“He wants to get rid of me as much as I want to get away from him, trust me. We’re the weird, toxic relationship those self-help Instagram pages warned you about.” Trust Sam to make a dumb joke during a conversation like this. “Probably the only time someone from the gang let their target go and not died.”

That wasn’t as true as he thought he was but you didn’t want to seem like you were one-upping him. You didn’t want him to think you were making this about you.

“You remember the big break you were talking about?” you tread carefully, gauging his reaction before you continued. “The one that pushed me up the ranks or whatever.”

He gave a small hum of acknowledgement, bringing his hands from behind his head to fold across his chest.

“Similar story, ‘cept Ransone doesn’t know.”

“What?” His eyes shot open. “How?”

“I was so tired of him treating me like a child. Everyone around who joined after me was out there doinghardcore missions and I was stuck with petty shit.” You didn’t know any better. You wished you had. “So he told me if I made it through this one, he’d send me on more.”

This wasn’t your first mission. You had handled hits before, mostly in the shadows, from a distance.

This was different. It was broad daylight, waiting behind a wall near the gated entrance of the house for a car to pull up.

A challenge, Ransone had posed, with strict instructions to do it in broad daylight. If you got out of this undetected, he’d consider sending you on more sophisticated missions.

“Highly stealthy. They’re dangerous,” you were warned. “You won’t know what hit you if you’re caught off your game.”

The low rumble of the car outside the gate alerted you of your target’s arrival. The gates weren’t going to open, the guards were dead.

The car stopped, waiting for the path to open up. When it didn’t the car’s engine slowed to a stop. The man in the driver’s seat got out to open the gate, giving you a clear shot.

You took a deep breath, clenching your eyes shut for a second before taking aim.

The body hit the gravel and you quickly made your way to the car. You could see the woman in the backseat gaping at where the man was standing a few seconds ago. She was struggling against the door, trying to escape.

She finally succeeded, the door opening suddenly as she stumbled over herself trying to get out.

“Stay there,” you commanded. She slowly looked up at you, face white as a sheet.

“Please,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt us.”

“I’m sorry.” You truly were.

Her face changed, dropping the facade immediately. She just looked on in acceptance, not making an effort to move. Manipulative. She almost had you convinced

You held the gun over her, pulling the trigger. A single shot. Her body slumped over.

You stared at her in silence, expressionless. You let out an exhale, tucking the gun back into the waist of your pants, stepping over her body to leave.

A small, staggering breath made you stop in your tracks. It was so slight you barely heard it. You took a step back, trying to trace where it came from.

You ducked your head to peer into the car, your heart stopping. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon.

“What the-” you muttered, facing a boy who looked only a few years younger than you. He was staring straight ahead, muscles in his jaw tight.

The son wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be abroad, according to the case file. Unless there were two of them you didn’t know about, this boy wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Listen,” you began, but he didn’t look at you. Just stared straight ahead, body trembling. He was scared. He didn’t show it.

“Show no mercy,” Ransone’s voice rang in your head.

“He’s a child,” you murmured to yourself. Your gun felt heavy in your hand.

Show no mercy.

You could only imagine what would be in store for you if you returned to Ransone with some tale of sympathy. This boy was only a few years younger than you. He didn’t have anything to do with this.

Show no mercy.

“Kid,” you called out. He slowly turned his head. “Go on. Get out of here.”

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Leave. You can’t be seen if someone comes back,” you urged. “I won’t be able to help you.”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

When he didn’t shift, you slammed the hood of the car, scaring him enough to pull at the door and stagger out of the car.

You turned your back to him, not waiting to see where he was going. The more deniability you had, the better.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“And Ransone doesn’t know.”

“There’s no record of this kid. He thinks he was at boarding school.” You shrugged. “Wasn’t going to correct him either.”

“If he did find out-” Sam trailed off.

“I’d be dead,” you concluded. “Being his favourite wouldn’t matter.”

“Why was it such a big deal, this mission?”

“She was a part of a major gang that Ransone was losing to.”

Sam just nodded knowingly, looking ahead again. You knew he’d done missions like this as well. Things like this were common so it didn’t need further elaboration.

“This job sucks,” he let out.

You gave a short laugh. That was an understatement.

“I want out. Can’t keep doin’ this for much longer,” he continued, however, to your surprise. “Don’t wanna keep doin’ this.”

You bit your lip, eyebrows knitted in concern. “You will.”

“How?” You hadn’t seen him like this before, this hint of desperation in his tone that left as quickly as it came. “I’ve tried, everything just comes up short.”

“I’ll help you.” You wanted to, God you did.

“You gonna kill him for me?” He looked at you. “‘Cause that’s really the only way out of this.”

If you were pushed to the limit, if he was on his knees in front of you and there was a gun in your hand pointed at him; would you be able to pull the trigger? Would you be able to kill the only constant you’d had for more than half your life?

“I can’t,” you muttered, dejection making its way into your thoughts.

“I know,” Sam said softly, “I wouldn’t ask you to either.”

You took a moment to observe him. The sun did him good. There was a soft glow to his skin, the colours of the sunset dancing in his dark eyes. Laugh lines were becoming more prominent around them, only adding to its charm.

He was a good man. He deserved better.

“I’ll find a way,” you sounded determined, “I promise.”

You didn’t say that very often. Your word didn’t mean a lot to people in the business, but it seemed to, to him.

“Thank you.” He appeared taken aback but didn’t show it in his words.

You simply sent him a smile, a reassurance. You knew what you had to do, just weren’t sure how.

He was right. There wasn’t a way out of it other than the one he proposed, but it wasn’t an option. You had to find another.

You would. You’d figure it out.

“It’s Cinnamon, by the way,” he said without any context.

You looked at him in question.

“My embarrassing nickname.” This was not where you saw the conversation heading but you were delighted all of a sudden. “My ma used to call me that all the damn time. Mortifying.”

“Cinnamon and Buttercup.” You didn’t bother hiding the grin that spread across your face. “World’s best assassins.”

“If that name ever leaves this conversation, I’ll know who to murder.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried,” you said playfully, nudging his shoulder.

He shrugged, face relaxed. “T’was worth a shot.”

An unintentional pun you snickered at. You didn’t tease him any further, just filed the name away as a memory. Maybe you’d use it later.

“Have you ever let anyone go after that?” You didn’t want to keep coming back to this conversation but you liked having someone to relate to.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t want to test my luck.”

“Me too.” One had been enough. You lived in fear for so long, waiting for someone to pull the plug and tell him what you’d done. That fear only grew everyday, finding a place at the deepest corner of your mind to fester.

“It’s what I meant when I said Serpentine had a motive to want me dead,” Sam said, piquing your interest once more.

“Huh?”

“The man I was supposed to kill- he was their old head. He disappeared after that and no one heard from him but it pissed off everyone, right from Ransone to their stupid gang’s janitor,” he explained, your eyes going wide with every word. “So the irony is, if we’re right, I might have led us into this situation. They’re looking for revenge.”

“Holy shit,” you uttered under your breath.

“I just assumed he died of old age if someone didn’t get to him first. He looked like he was one birthday away from the grave anyway.”

“How are you still alive, Sam?” you asked in wonder.

“I’d do it again.” He laughed, a deep one from his stomach.

He was reckless, clearly. Happily and unashamedly so. And if you continued to hang out with him after this was over, he’d probably get you killed in some stunt or two.

But maybe you’d deal with that if the time came.

He leaned back again, this time no creases on his forehead from stress. He looked at peace.

You sat together in silence. You occasionally stole glances at him as the sun set in front of you, a small smile on your face.

You leaned your head on his shoulder tentatively. You could feel him tilt his head to look at you and you prepared to have him ask you to move.

It never came. Instead, he scooted closer to you, letting you rest against him more comfortably. Your heart skipped a beat; barely but surely.

A realisation quickly hit you, suddenly before consuming you. Your stomach sank.

“Fuck.”

Next part

211 notes · View notes

honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

The Cowboy Conundrum

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/GN! Reader

Word Count: 3,128

Warnings: Jack gets heatstroke and suffers the symptoms (passing out, vomiting, etc.), but other than that it’s mostly just hurt/comfort

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

Out in the middle of the desert, the days were long and hot, usually unforgiving and always unbearable. The sand was gritty, the sun was cruel, and the lack of humidity was somehow a curse and not its usual blessing.

Why the hell you were in a desert right now was beyond you, but apparently your work had decided to send you to the middle of God’s country, Arizona for something important, so something important you were doing. Well, you were waiting for your instructions in a cabin on the outskirts of some ghost town, but that felt close enough. You’d been here for almost three months, and at this point, you were entirely used to the boringness and the labor of day-to-day life in the desert.

Thankfully, it seemed the gods were merciful today. Instead of heading into town for a drink or counting tumbleweeds as you always did to stave off the boredom, a horse approached you as you exited your cabin to grab water from the well. It wasn’t a particularly interesting horse, just a regular old bay horse with one small white sock, but what intrigued you was the horse’s rider, or obvious lack thereof. Fully tacked in western gear, the horse had no rider that you could see. No one on the horizon, no shouts above the dry wind, not even a whisper of whoever had sent this horse running to you.

“Are you alone?” you asked, rubbing up and down the horse’s muzzle. “Are you all alone out here pretty boy? Hm?”

The horse whickered, shoving against you and flicking his tail. You nodded, looking out over the sienna landscape. “Is there something out there?”

Another soft whicker, and this time, you could’ve sworn you saw something, a glimmering mirage against the heat. A man, shambling upright, limping with every step. With one blink, he was gone, but the image remained burned in your head. You blinked a few more times, trying to dispel the mirage, but you couldn’t.

“Oh what the hell,” you groaned, picking up your hat and placing it securely on your head. “What could go wrong?” Already in riding clothes, you wasted no time swinging up into the horse’s saddle and gripping the reins tightly in one hand. “Take me wherever.”

Immediately, the horse was off, you along with him. Riding was as natural as breathing for you, and you actually felt nice with the wind threatening to upend your hat with every step the horse made.

It took almost ten minutes to find anything, but the horse seemed to know where he was meant to go and took you there without hesitation. When you finally came upon the crumpled body of a man, you swung off the horse’s back before he slowed to a stop, running alongside him and falling before the man. He was unconscious, his skin as hot as the ground beneath him and as dry as the air you were breathing. You shoved two of your fingers to the side of this neck, just below his jaw, and found a pulse, wild and erratic, racing under the man’s skin.

“Looks like heatstroke,” you said to the horse, flicking the brim of the man’s hat up and seeing his sun-flushed face. “Yep. C’mon, think you can carry us both?”

The horse was surprisingly willing to carry you and the mystery man. He knelt down so you could position the man at the front of the saddle, and stood still when you swung yourself up as well. Because of the extra weight, what should’ve been a ten minute trip home was closer to twenty, but before you knew it, you were dragging the man inside your cabin, leaving the horse cool and comfortable in the attached stall beside the house.

You groaned, hauling the man onto your only bed. You could take the couch until he recovered, you truly didn’t mind. Turning the ceiling fan on, you listened to it creak as you stripped the man of his clothes, piling everything to be washed in a basket by the door. When he was left in only his underwear, you began to relax. You’d need well water, which was typically cool, but for now, you grabbed an ice tray from your ancient freezer, popping out an ice cube and handling it carefully. The last thing you wanted was to drop the man’s temperature too fast, but you had to cool him down.

In the end, you ran the ice cube across his skin, focusing on the sensitive areas the most, his face, neck, and armpits. He gave no response to the shock of cold, and you couldn’t help but fear the worst. How long had he been out there? You knew heatstroke victims could lapse into comas, and you were technically supposed to call emergency services immediately, but who the hell were you going to call out here? All you could do was treat him as best you could and pray to whatever God resided over your personal slice of hell that the mystery man didn’t die in your bed.

You sighed, watching the last sliver of ice melt away. The man’s face looked a bit less flushed, and you ducked into your bathroom, coming out holding two thermometers. One was an oral thermometer, the one you were probably going to use, and the other was a rectal thermometer, the one you really should use. The second one was going to give you a more accurate reading, but holy shit. You hadn’t even technically met the guy yet, and you didn’t exactly think sticking a thermometer up his ass was the way to kick off your introduction.

Giving in, you put the first thermometer in the man’s mouth, watching and waiting for the beep. When it dinged, you pulled it out from between his teeth and sighed. 104.2 degrees fahrenheit. Shit. Still in the danger zone.

There was no getting around it now. You needed water, and fast. Your shower could only get to lukewarm before it stopped cooling, so you resigned yourself to hauling a bucket to and from the well. The horse looked at you as you sloshed water into the house, hurrying to get back to the man’s bedside before anything bad happened. Thankfully, he seemed to be better when you returned, dropping the remaining cubes from the ice tray into the water, cooling it down for a minute, and then grabbing a threadbare washcloth from the bathroom. The rag seemed to help more than the single ice cube, and you felt comfortable enough after wiping him down for a while to get up and leave him, the water-soaked towel still across his forehead, of course.

While the man rested inside, you headed outside to tend to the horse, putting his tack away in the miniscule shed beside the house and getting him cozy with some water and hay. He seemed grateful, munching on the hay while you began to fill your laundry trough. It was sat on the porch, the metal tub and laundry line the only way you had found to wash clothes out here. Two buckets of well water did the trick, and then you were grabbing your washboard, soap, and laundry, ready to scrub.

You were halfway through washing the man’s jeans when you heard a thud inside the house. Abandoning your laundry, you rushed back inside, seeing the man, awake, bent over on the floor, clutching his head and groaning like a wounded animal. You knelt beside him, helping him sit back on his haunches and then slump against the wall, skin flushed and warm against your damp hands.

“You have heatstroke,” you explained clearly and slowly, grabbing a new wet washcloth and wiping the man’s skin down, taking care around his brown eyes. “You were unconscious in the desert. Your horse found me, and I brought you back to my cabin.”

The man nodded loosely, his movements uncoordinated. You tracked his eyes, watching how they flickered around your face, never seeming to focus on one thing. “Are you nauseous?” you asked, grabbing an ice cube out of your second tray. You handed it to the man, gesturing for him to put it in his mouth. He did so, nodding as he went.

“Dizzy?” Another nod, and you were standing to wring the warm washcloth out and re-cool it.

“Headache?” The nodding increased in strength, and you winced, setting the cold towel against the man’s head, soaking his brown curls. “Pulsing?” You hated the confirmation, and you sighed. “Yep, heatstroke. Just gonna have to keep cooling you off, I guess.”

You were hesitant to leave the man, but the laundry still had to be done. Eventually, you gave him an old paper-thin bathrobe and let him sit on the porch swing, sucking on ice cubes and watching you scrub his undershirt against the washboard. He never once complained, but he didn’t say anything else either, and you had to wonder, as you hung the shirt to dry, if the man could even speak at all.

You got your answer over dinner. You insisted he eat plain toast, and he shook his head in refusal. It was a battle you were willing to fight, because you kept pestering him until he finally snapped, “Y’ain’t my damn mother!” His voice was raspy and sick sounding, but underneath that you could hear a richness to his words.

“Even so,” you said, not ready to give up just yet. “You need to put something in your stomach. Just one piece, please.”

The man’s eyes softened as you pushed the plate towards him. “Half,” he countered.

You shrugged, ripping one piece of toast in half and giving him the slightly bigger piece. “That works, cowboy.”

He ate slowly, each bite small and hesitant. He was still woozy, staying in his chair only because of the study back and arms of the chair trapping him in. But his head bobbed and his eyes flickered open and shut, and you were certain his head was still killing him.

“A good night’s rest will do you good,” you said as you finished dinner, helping the man up and into bed. “I’ll leave the fan on, okay?”

The man nodded, letting you tuck the thin quilt around his body and leave him with nothing more than a whispered goodnight.

The next morning, the man seemed to be doing better. His skin was no longer as flushed pink as it was the day before, and he told you over breakfast that his head had finally stopped pounding so hard. It still hurt, but was no longer unbearable.

Unfortunately, he was still nauseous and lightheaded, stumbling around the cabin and throwing up what meager oatmeal you’d convinced him to eat. It was hell as you followed him to the bathroom and rubbed his back, letting him cry into your shirt for a while before realizing being on the floor couldn’t be good for him.

“Looks like it’s another bed rest day,” you said, helping him up off the bathroom floor. He swayed in your arms, groaning as you walked him to the bedroom. “I know,” you said slowly, pulling back the quilt on the bed. “But you just have to rest.”

The man fell asleep quickly, and you left him with the fan on and an open window to let in some breeze while you went outside to get some chores done. It was mostly busy work, hauling well water to fill the house’s water tank, checking on the laundry, feeding the horse from yesterday, and caring for your own horse in the stall beside the mystery horse. By the time you walked back inside, it was nearing noon, the grandfather clock in the living room reading half past eleven.

The man was awake when you entered the bedroom, and you insisted on taking his temperature.

“Just a minute,” you promised, holding the thermometer out. “Then I’ll leave. I have to go to town anyway. Think you’ll survive on your own?”

The man gave you a look as he put the thermometer under his tongue. When it beeped, he handed it to you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “One hundred and three point six,” you said out loud, putting the thermometer on the nightstand. “Getting lower.”

“That’s good,” the man said. “I think.”

“It’s better than it was yesterday,” you said, looking over the small bookshelf in the room and picking a book. “Here. Read as much of this as you can before I get back please. I’ll see if I can’t find anything to help your head while I’m out.”

You ended up leaving the man with his book while you saddled your horse up and rode into town. The trip was only a few miles, but you almost never walked it out of fear you’d end up with heatstroke, just like the man in your house.

“Heya Sal,” you said, dismounting and walking up to the convenience store. “How you doing?”

Sal looked up, his cloudy eyes unfocused. He was older than everyone in town by a wide margin, but no one dared try and help him, lest they end up getting a cane to the ankle. “I’m doing fine,” he said, finally focusing on you. “How are you?”

“Oh I’m hanging in there,” you said, smiling. “Gotta get some groceries. I ran out of eggs yesterday, if you can believe it.”

Sal shook his head. “Just don’t go drinking them raw,” he said as you entered the convenience store. “I did that in my youth and let me say, made me sicker than a dog.”

Smiling, you let the cold of the air conditioning wash over you as the door swung shut. The store was dead empty aside from the owner, who seemed oddly excited to see you.

“I haven’t seen anyone else all day!” He said happily, hopping over the counter to hug you. “It’s good to see you, how’ve you been holding up?”

“I’m fine Joey,” you said, hugging Joey back and flicking a stray brown cowlick he’d missed when he was getting ready. “I found a heatstroke victim yesterday, and I’m no nurse, but I think he’s getting better.”

Joey winced. “Out here? It’s a miracle he’s survived!” he said. “Is he okay?”

You shrugged, reaching around Joey to grab a basket. “Headache,” you said. “Nausea, he’s still running a fever, and he’s woozy, but he’s awake now, so I don’t have to worry about a coma.”

“Sounds rough,” Joey muttered, picking up a bottle off a shelf and handing it to you. “Here. Painkillers. Should help the mystery man’s head.”

You grinned. “Joey, you are a lifesaver.”

By the time you got home an hour later, the sun was at its peak, and you were worried about the man inside. But your worries were just that when you realized he was fine, sitting up in bed and reading the book you’d given him. He looked up as you walked in, carrying the bag of things you’d gotten him. He took his medicine without complaint, even though you knew it was probably nasty, and seemed to perk up when you told him you’d bought him new clothes because his old ones were disgusting. He joined you yet again on the porch when you went outside, although this time you sat beside him, working patiently on a cross stitch project.

“Do you like working on these things?” the man asked, handing you your thread snips. “When you’re bored?”

You snorted, tying off the thread you’d finished using. “Yes,” you said sarcastically. “I’m a ninety year old woman who has nothing better to do than to work on a cross stitch in my rocking chair.”

The man laughed, passing you the thread bundle you gestured at. “I’m serious,” he said, watching you expertly thread the needle you were holding. “You’re very good at this.”

His words made you warm, and you shrugged loosely. “There’s not much to do out here,” you admitted. “So yeah, I guess I do like it, cowboy.”

“Jack.”

“Hm?”

The man looked you in the eyes, smiling slightly. “My name is Jack.”

Just like that, Jack was no longer a mystery. He was a constant in your life for two more weeks as he recovered, growing stronger by the day. You gave him chores to do, making sure none of them were too labor intensive, and he pulled his weight around your cabin, hardly ever complaining. At night, you and him would watch the sunset on the porch, sitting side by side on the porch swing. You took care to finish your cross stitch, the tiny, rhythmic X stitches in the fabric lulling you into a state of calm night after night.

One day, almost three weeks after Jack had arrived, he told you he had to leave.

“I’m gonna go tomorrow,” he said, tangling his feet with yours under the kitchen table. He had made dinner, the chili a nice warm meal after your long day. “I was out here traveling, and my people back home are probably worried sick about me.”

You nodded. You understood, you really did, but damn did it hurt to see him go. You liked having Jack around. He was funny and smart and an excellent cook. A tiny part of you wanted to ask him to stay, and then you remembered you didn’t live here either. You were just visiting, exactly as he was.

The next morning, you helped Jack pack his things, giving him a nice new shirt to wear.

“It’s thin,” you said, handing him the vibrant red fabric. “So it should help keep you from overheating. Just remember to drink water and to stay cool please.”

Jack chuckled, putting his hat on his head and tipping the brim up. “Will do.”

As Jack got dressed, you walked out to his horse, holding your completed cross stitch. It was a beautiful pixelated version of the landscape, the tiny cabin illuminated by the rising sun. Slipping it and a letter into Jack’s saddle bag, you gave his horse one last kiss on the nose before going to tell your cowboy good-bye.

It was hell watching Jack ride away. He waved to you as he kicked his horse into a trot, disappearing over the horizon line faster than you wanted him to. When he came back into view, miniscule and almost unseeable, his red shirt a stain against the orange of the sand, you waved again, He saw you and his hand raised, bidding you farewell one last time before he looked out over the sea of rising buttes and sienna sand, riding off and leaving you alone under the cloudless sky.

#Kingsman #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

36 notes · View notes

gyllousos · 3 years

Text

Warnings: Depression, masochists, language.

Dedicated to @the-grimm-writer

_________________________________________

Hannya despised hospitals. She hated the smell of disinfectant, the plain white walls decorated with awareness for the human body, as well as the chairs in the waiting room. Not that the one she was sitting in was uncomfortable, yet her ass felt like a pin cushion since she'd been in the thing for well over an hour and counting. Just ten minutes ago she had gone to the vending machine for a soda, downing the Sprite in one gulp.

She was still staring into the empty soda can as though it would refill with more of the carbonated beverage. Her thumb pressed into the side, crinkling the corner. Above her a TV played an old show, something about two children using their imagination to escape into a new world.

One where they forgot about all the bad stuff, even for a moment, a paradise for two. A haven. Thinking about that made a lump swell in Hannya's throat. She set her can onto a nearby table, curling her hands into her lap. A nail dug into the fabric of her leggings, she winced at the bruise there. It was still throbbing a week later, still sore. Her back arched from the cut diagonal cut, also a week old, but it didn't pulse like the thigh bruise did.

Her old cuts and bruises hurt most days, even though half of them were healed for weeks, despite their ugliness in the beginnings. She used to never recognize herself in the mirror after they fucked. Not screwed, but fucked until she lay beneath him unable to move, a quivering mess of orgasm.

God. She was truly sick.

She inhaled slowly through her nose. Hannya refused to cry in this place. One of the nurses had been looking at her so often, a pitying look in her eyes. Hannya avoided eye contact.

She knew that nurse too well, she'd nearly made a home here. But that was long ago. And the nurse, a petite brunette with gentle doe eyes was always so kind to her.

Vague flashes of Hannya in a room where she was monitored, wearing a gown, and counting the hours on the clock to her meds. No, she wasn't going down memory lane again.

What if she broke again? But not because of him.

Dabi.

ㅤHe twisted the fabric of her shirt, bunching tightly. There were tearing sounds. Fraying sounds. Dragging her to within inches of his leering, predatory smile.

ㅤHer shirt came away in a ribbon, leaving her in unkempt, scant rags. He sneered, pinching a nipple as her pert little breasts jiggled free. Dabi tweaked the nipple, and swatted her breast with an open-palmed slap.

Hannya let out a cry between a gasp and a moan.

Dabi clenched his fist around her throat, thrust his arm so she was pinned to the wall behind her. One hand constricted the air from her lungs, while the other twisted cruelly on the same nipple from before.

"Scared yet?"

"No."

ㅤㅤ"No need to lie."

ㅤHis other hand slipped low, her breast freed from his cruel touch only for his hot breath to caress it. Dabi sank teeth into her its supple flesh, snakelike tongue uncoiled to writhe slick against the nipple. His loose fingers delved between her thighs, groping a handful of her warm, tender sex.

ㅤHe didn’t need her to black out from the choking, but it was designed so that every throb of pleasure he squeezed into her body lightened her head. A cruel, sadistic practice to strangle every last drop of ecstasy, to send her spirit into heaven but her body to hell.

Dabi's fingers were long and defined, two sunken deep into the supple heat of her cunt. His pace, merciless. The villain ground the heel of his wrist firmly against her clit, assaulting every inch. He worked in and out of her with aggressive vigor, stirring up loud, sloppy noises from her.

She felt him adjust, she bit her lip from the harsh penetration when he slammed himself into her, those haunting blue eyes never leaving her face.

"You're mine, Hannya."

"I'm yours."

"If another man looks at you the way I look at you, or even thinks about fucking you, I'll split his goddamn skull."

Hannya snapped back to reality at the alert of her name being called. She remembered now that she had been called into the exam room for tests. The gown felt paper thin on her, exposing her to the nurse who held her clipboard in hand.

She hadn't commented on the palm bruise on her thigh or the cut on her back. Hannya was almost relieved her skin was back to semi-normal. It had been a long time since she last been here. How long ago?

Three years since her last attempt.

"You're doing well Hannya, much better since your last visit with us. You've been keeping up with all of your appointments, last time you were hear you had bad anemia and an infection. You bounced back like a champ. "

Hannya smiled faintly. The plump old woman reminded her of a doting grandma.

"Your appetite back to normal?"

"Yes ma'm. Everything is good."

She tried best to hide the clip in her speech.

"Now that we're following up, I'd like to wait for the rest of your test results to come in."

Hannya hid her impatience, wishing time would go forward, she could grab her things and leave. Back to her home where she could close off the world. Block everyone out. Would Dabi be waiting for her? For once, she didn't want to see him. As much as their sadistic games were fun time both of them, she just didn't have the desire. No other man could get her off the way Dabi did.

Lately, she dreaded seeing him propped in her couch, or getting a text from him. She could damn near feel him without him being near. A moment later, when the same woman poked her head in, Hannya actually beamed.

The door closed behind her.

That's when Hannya left the hospital in a daze, barely clutching her phone and purse, she didn't even know she drove home until she parked in the driveway. Turning off the engine, she sat in stunned silence, her knuckles tight onto the steering wheel.

God, she just wanted to turn back time to the last month, the last year, erase everything. She was numb enough as is and she hoped Dabi wasn't waiting on her. She just couldn't take it right now.

“No,” she said, barely audible. The nurse's words echoing in her ears once more.

A sob escaped her. She dragged herself out of her vehicle, barely registering her feet moving towards her home, inside of her apartment. She locked the door behind her. And didn't have to look around to see a tall man with spiked dark hair and a smile that gave her goosebumps.

"Dabi..."

"Miss me?"

Her legs felt like jelly. Her heart was being so fast she feared it rip itself through her chest. Hannya's knees shook, and her heart hammered in my chest. She felt like she was already walled in, and she didn’t even know it.

“I wish I’d never met you,” she said, almost whispering.

He stopped, his boots creaking the wooden floor under him. “Believe me, girl, the feeling is fucking mutual.”

No arguments, no shouting, no cursing even though she wanted to spew a blue streak at him. Eventually she fell onto her knees, the metallic clink of a belt and a zipper being pulled down; she parted her lips for Dabi's cock already slick with precum. She swallowed him into the back of her throat.

"Good girl," he praised her, stroking the back of her head.

___________________________________________

Hannya hadn't seen Dabi since that day, what felt like over a month had turned into sixteen months. As much as she didn't care, she ached for him, and not in the sexual sense. She truly yearned for his company if she could actually believe it. Just what happened to him after that?

No texts, no calls. No sudden appearing without warning. Poof! He never told her he was leaving. Then again he never told her a lot of anything. Hannya often dreamt of him, as the little boy named Touya. The same boy who came crying to her in the catacombs and she to him. Two kids yearning for a place in the world.

She hadn't given up hope she'd see him again, if ever. Hannya swiped her fingers across her phone screen, tucking her device back into her pocket, her blue eyes swiveled up the moon, an ache swelling in her chest.

"I'm losing it..." She mumbled, proceeding to walk. She was patting her pockets for her car keys when a hand snaked its way around her forearm, dragging her into a brick corner, pinning her against a wall.

She couldn't scream because of the stranger's hand covering her mouth. Her eyes doubled in size, his sinister smirk making her skin flush.

Touya!

"Dabi." It came out as a muffle.

"Like you've seen a ghost," he sneered, letting her go.

"For a minute I thought I did..." She whispered.

His eyes raked over her outfit, eyes narrowing in on her chest. He sure knew how to make her vulnerable, naked without undressing her. So he hadn't left after all. Was he hiding from her?

He was never far to begin with. Something told her this wasn't a social visit, she needed to get home before she did something like kiss him. He'd take her right here in public. Wouldn't be the first time.

"I was looking for you, " she said.

"Is that a fact?" His voice was utterly emotionless. Not the least bit of warmth.

"I suppose I was looking for you, too. You made a big mistake Hannya."

The way he said it made Hannya scoot an inch from him.

"What are you talking about?" Hannya remained composed, furrowing her dark brows. Dabi only advanced.

"Telling lies, keeping secrets. It was all gonna come out eventually, you just should have been more careful."

"Dabi..." He chuckled, one hand stuffed in his jacket pocket.

"I...I meant to find you...I was looking for my family."

Dabi almost laughed, shaking his head slightly.

"You were looking for a family, huh? One could argue it's my family you’re looking for right? How are my baby boy and girl by the way? Got my eyes don't they?"

All the color drained from Hannya's face.

A glimpse into memory had her back in the exam room months ago.

"We ran more tests Hannya. Your bloodwork shows you’re also pregnant, a little over eight weeks along. Congratulations.”

Why couldn't the Earth just swallow her whole now? There's no way he could have known. No she wouldn't have told him right away, if at all. He wouldn't have been a great father. When she was told she was pregnant Hannya wanted to cry, scream, break something or even someone. The last thing she had ever wanted inflicted on her had happened, she was in such hysterics she nearly fainted.

Why couldn't it have been anyone but him? The raw cry she let out. She imagined life with two tiny humans, ones she could give unconditional love to. Innocent souls. Her twins. She knew she was going to keep them, her darling babies. How she tried to keep them from Dabi and now...

"You knew...how long..."

"Does it matter? You honestly didn't think you could hide them from me forever Hannya. You should know better than that." His voice was almost a taunt.

"Try keeping them away from me, if you so much as leave with them I'll burn everything down in my path, everyone, to get what I want."

It was like a slap in the face. He wouldn't? Right? No, he had no rights towards their children. Her children. As far as Hannya knew Dabi was just the sperm donor.

Hannya scowled.

Dabi smirked.

He was right, the twins got his eyes alright.

Still advancing, Dabi pinned Hannya to the rough brick wall, his nose level with hers. He didn't want to admit he missed his little devil. He had to resist the urge to to tear off her clothing and fuck her until she was begging him to stop. God, her scent. She couldn't have been more beautiful, plump lips, inviting breasts, fair skin he wanted to mark again.

"I'll be watching you and our children, doll. Who would have thought..."

He gripped her oncoming wrist from slapping him. Should he break it? No. Some other time. He released her, backing up to give her space, almost yearning for the closeness again. No more talk, he left quietly as he came. He heard the faint falling of Hannya on her knees, cursing him to hell and back.

#yandere dabi x oc #yandere bnha x oc #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #my hero academia fan fiction #yandere bnha #dabi x oc #bnha dabi #mha yandere #yandere dabi #my hero acadamia #by gyllousos all rights reserved 2021 #copyright all rights reserved #dabi smut #mha dabi #mha fanfiction #mha oc #mha smut #yandere

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earlysunsetsoverambrose · 3 years

Text

Fool For You (1/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Description: You are head over heels in love with the youngest Sinclair, but he could not be more oblivious to your feelings.

A/N: Thanks to @mynameisliterallycash for the request! I was hitting a wall with writing, but this helped get the gears turning again! I hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoy!

The sun streaming through your window roused you from a steady slumber. You groaned, stretching out your limbs until you finally collapsed back onto the mattress with a sigh. The sleep from your eyes cleared as you thought of the dream you had last night. Your heart raced remembering the way he took you in his arms and finally said he loved you too. You were so happy you could cry and now you could almost cry at realizing it was just another dream. He seemed to be all that occupied your thoughts: Lester Sinclair.

Lester was all you had energy for these days. If you weren’t with him, you were thinking about when you’d see him again. Even your dream world revolved around him as he’d made an appearance almost every night lately. You were like a damn schoolgirl; and it was as exhilarating as it was humiliating. You thought you were past the days of pining over boys, but here you were.

Slowly, you’d fallen head-over-heels for the man. His self-effacing humor, kind heart, and generous nature won you over so effortlessly. You didn’t even realize where you were headed until your little crush became an intense, desperate love for you closest friend. It practically consumed you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Lester would just put you out of your misery. Falling in love with him was incredibly easy, but telling him was the biggest pain in your ass since Bo Sinclair.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. You tried hundreds of different ways – of varying levels of subtlety – to tell him how you feel. Extra physical affection? Nothing. Complimenting him on literally everything? Nothing. Baking treats specifically for him? Nothing. Asking him if he’d ever been in love before? Not a damn thing. You were running out of ways to get your point across.

Even if he didn’t notice the romantic intentions, he was always so receptive and enthusiastic, you couldn’t be upset for too long. Being a touch-oriented person by nature, he welcomed the extra hugs, squeezing you to your heart’s content. Your compliments always made him blush and he’d pay you back with as much flattery and twice the charm. After every treat you baked, he carved you thoughtful trinkets from wood and bone. And when you asked him about being in love, he lit up as he rambled on about a dog he met that confirmed for him the existence of true love. God, he was a goofball. You loved him so much.

At this point, you were vacillating between whether you should tell him at all, since everything you tried seemed to go over his head. You weren’t even sure he liked you back. Sometimes, you thought he might, but he was so nice to everyone, it was hard to tell. Maybe he really didn’t notice, or he did and he was trying not to hurt your feelings. Both were possibilities, but you sincerely hoped it was the former. But how could he not get it? Maybe you were better off as friends. It’d probably be easier.

You looked at the clock, realizing you would have to put your pity party on hold. Though the smallest part of you wanted to stay in bed and return to your dreamland where you knew Lester loved you back, you’d much rather spend all the time you could with him in the real world. You had plans to go to town with Lester to pick up more dog food. When he asked you if you wanted to tag along for his day off, you jumped at the chance to go with him. Anything for a few more hours together.

Once you got cleaned up and dressed, you jogged down the stairs and straight to the front door. You took a seat on the bottom step of the porch to wait for Lester to come pick you up. A shiver ran through your body, adjusting to the chilly breeze. You looked up at the sky to find it overcast, matching your mood. You wondered if it would rain.

You heard the door open and shut, followed by heavy steps down the stairs. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Waitin’ for Lester to pick you up for your date?” Bo prodded, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

“It’s not a date.” You sighed, too caught up in your thoughts to fight with Bo.

“But you want it to be, don’t you?” He snorted, “You’ve had it bad for him for how long now?”

“Can’t you just go on to work without harassing me? Be nice for once and go away.” you asked, finally looking up at him to meet his classic smirk.

“Look, kid, if you wanna get anywhere with Lester, you’re gonna have to spell it out for him.” Bo advised, “God love him, but there’s nothin’ in his head. Plus, he’s dumb as a sack of hammers when it comes to women and sex.”

“Stop it.” You snapped, “Lester’s not stupid. And I don’t remember asking for your advice.”

“Well, you need it.” Bo interjected, “But if you wanna keep pussyfooting around and die alone, that’s your God given right.”

“Truly inspiring.” You said sarcastically, “You should become a life coach.”

“Thought about it, pay was shit though.” Bo quipped without missing a beat. He gave you a soft kick on the leg as his best attempt at comfort, before finally granting your wish for him to leave. He hopped in his truck and took off down the hill.

You thought about what Bo told you. Maybe you should just come out with it already. You tried everything short of saying what you actually meant. You knew that being open and direct was the best way forward, but it would undoubtedly change things between you and Lester – for better or worse. You just dreaded the thought that after you finally told him everything, he simply wouldn’t feel the same. The idea of rejection, especially coming from him, was utterly terrifying. You didn’t think you could handle it if he were to start icing you out. You didn’t want to lose any part of him. Maybe you should have stayed in bed after all.

“Hello, Y/N? Anybody alive in there?”

You gasped as your heart jolted and you snapped to attention. You looked up to see Lester chuckling at your expense. Even as your heartrate slowed, you felt it stutter at his laughter.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, Les!” you said with a playful shove, feigning annoyance –your smile betraying you.

“I didn’t mean to spook ya! But I’ve been callin’ your name for two minutes.” Lester told you, “Ya sure were thinkin’ hard ‘bout whatever it was. Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Sorry, I think I’m still waking up.” You excused, adding a fake yawn to really sell it. Lester smiles wide at you, suspecting nothing.

“Well, wake on up then, we got places to be!” Lester said as he offered his hand to pull you up from the stairs. You happily took it and he hoisted you up with ease. Your eyes darted where your hands met as his touch sent sparks through your arm and into your chest. Now, you were just plain staring. He innocently tilted his head, “Ya sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you said quickly, releasing his hand. “Come on, I’ll race you to the truck! Last one there has to do all the heavy lifting!”

Lester broke into a sprint without a warning. You wondered how he always seemed to have so much energy at all hours of the day as you struggled to catch up with him.

He made it to the truck first by a long shot. He just smiled when you finally made it, not bothering to gloat. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh as you fought to catch your breath.

“Guess, I win.” Lester said simply

“I’m getting too old for this.” you said as you leaned against the truck for support.

“Oh, you’re never too old for a little fun.” Lester replied clapping you on the back, “’Sides, you’re awake now, ain’t ya?”

“Won’t be for long, if I black out from exhaustion.” You fired back dramatically, “You’re going to have to go on without me.”

“Hey, c’mon now, ya gotta go with me to carry all that dog food. Ya ain’t gettin’ outta this one, drama queen.” Lester played along.

“Vision going dark…legs too weak! Goodbye, cruel world!” you cried out with an exaggerated hand over your face. You made a show of stumbling around like you were about to faint, imitating all the terrible soap operas you caught on television. You wrapped your arms around Lester and made your legs limp, forcing him to support you as he laughed at your antics, “Remember me as I was: unwilling to carry everything by myself.”

“Alright, fine!” Lester agreed as he adjusted you in his grasp so he could look back at you. Your act faltered as you looked up into his warm whiskey stare, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, sturdy and gentle. “I s’pose I’ll help ya out a little. Guess it’s only fair since ya let me win and all.”

“Why, yes, of course, that is exactly what happened. Me, the true winner. I let you win, correct. That was the master plan.” You said, every word dripping with sarcasm. You stood back up, separating yourself from his embrace despite wanting nothing more than to stay that way forever.

“Yes ma’am! Ya coulda left me in the dust, alright, but ya didn’t. Thanks for takin’ it easy on me.” Lester said with a wink and a nudge as he made his way to the driver side of the truck. There he goes again with that unrelenting kindheartedness, “Well, hop in then! We’re burnin’ daylight!”

You opened the passenger door and got in next to Lester. You couldn’t help but look at him from the corner of your eye as he got settled and started the engine. He started driving down the road. You wondered how it was possible no one else had fallen in love with him the way you had so easily. Maybe many already did and they also failed to tell him.

You turned to look at him straight on, while his eyes were on the road. You could feel a fond smile pulling at your cheeks as you gazed at him. He had such an ease about him, you thought he looked so handsome without even trying.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” Lester asked, cocking an eyebrow as he looked back at you, “What are ya lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Huh?” you said cluelessly. You had been caught staring again.

“Did I leave the house with a milk moustache or somethin’?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror to check himself, “Do I got a snot bubble?”

“No, you’re good.” You said, chuckling as you propped your head against your hand by the window. You kept looking at him, practically feeling the hearts flying out of your eyes.

“Whew, had me worried there for a second.”

“Sorry, about that.” You said with a smile, facing front once more.

“Don’t be, I get it, what with my devilish good looks and all.” Lester joked with a hearty laugh, sitting back without another thought. You looked back at him, holding back a sigh of disbelief. He didn’t know the half of it.

You leaned over to turn on the radio hoping some music would ease the tension you were feeling, even though you were sure Lester hadn’t noticed. He was delightfully oblivious to your plight. You heard the beginning of a steady, soft guitar. You immediately recognize the song, internally cursing the irony of it all.

I find it very, very easy to be true I find myself alone when each day is through Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you Because you're mine, I walk the line

Even Johnny Cash could see right through you. As much as you wanted to be irritated with fate, every line perfectly summed up your feelings for Lester. You glanced at him, thinking about how there was no one else in the world who was as right for you. He was just like the song itself; soft and stable.

“You know, I really love this song.” You said hopefully, “Romantic, don’t you think?”

“Sure is,” Lester agreed, with an excited smile and glance in your direction, “But hell if Folsom Prison Blues ain’t one of the best damn songs ever written. That’s my favorite!”

“Oh…that one’s definitely great too.” You said with a small drop of your shoulders. You should have known better than to think that would go anywhere. You straighten up again, giving it another shot, “I Walk the Line just makes me wish I could find the Johnny to my June.”

“Aw, don’t worry about that, none. Won’t be too long ‘fore that happens. I’m surprised none of them bigshot city boys ain’t snatched ya up yet. Guess most of ‘em are just plain stupid. Hell, they gotta be if they ain’t fallin’ over themselves to get a ring on ya.” Lester hyped you up, looking at you, genuine as ever.

“I don’t think I want anyone like that.” You said, “Guys like that really aren’t my type.”

“Well, whoever ya do end up with is gonna be one lucky son of a gun, I’ll tell ya that much.” Lester declared with the utmost certainty.

“I think I’d want him to be like you.” You told him pointedly, scooting closer. Lester gaped, a huge grin still shining through the skepticism.

“Me? Shoot, ya gotta be kiddin’. No way! Ya don’t wanna shack up with a fella like me!” Lester denied with a wave of his hand, clearly amused but not entertaining the notion. He was sure you must be joking.

"Why not?” You asked, “You’re funny, helpful, incredibly reliable, thoughtful, patient, kind. You’re the real deal! Plus, you know everything about everything there is to know about animals. I’m always learning something when I’m with you.”

“Shucks, you’re gonna make me blush,” Lester chuckled, sending you a humble smile as he rubbed his neck, “I don’t know everythin’, but you’re real sweet for sayin’ so. ‘Sides, I don’t think there’re too many ladies that wanna hear me rattlin’ on ‘bout critters and whatnot.”

“Don’t be so sure.” You told him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Well, if ya happen to run into anybody ya think won’t mind if I set the mood with a little roadkill, ya send ‘em my way, alright!” Lester told you, slapping his knee. After he finished laughing at himself, he piped up, “You know who I’d marry if I could?”

“Who?” you asked, your heart stopping in its tracks.

“Dolly Parton! Whew that woman sure is somethin’!” Lester told you with a dreamy shake of his head.

You let out a soft sigh as you scooted back to your side; hiding your disappointment by looking out the window. Suddenly, Ring of Fire seemed more appropriate since loving Lester was starting to burn like hell. Even so, you were still charmed by his unrestrained joy as he started whistling along with the radio, totally oblivious to the way your fond smile overtook your features.

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #Female reader #House of Wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #My writing #request #tw: cursing #fool for you

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minerstatus · 3 years

Text

Teyvat’s School for the Gifted

Summary: He's cruel, mean, and sadistic. Lumine cannot fathom why he has the followers he does, but she won't fall into his hands like the rest of them. It was unknown to her at that time how such a stance would cause the biggest uproar the schools ever seen.

This is the silly drama filled high school/college parody AU nobody asked for filled with Lumine not giving a shit and Childe trying to buy his way out of problems.

Ship: Lumine/Childe

Tags: Highschool AU, Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Jealousy, lots of side ships.

Status: 5/? on Ao3

Chapter 1

The school located on an island inside the neutral zones between nations is a blessing for anyone without a swimming pool filled with mora. Without money you have to be gifted a vision to attend. That is why Lumine thought she would never be accepted to such a place. Instead cursed to live her life on a small farm on the outskirts of Mondstadt, killing small monsters for money to aid her ailing mother.

She had become quite the prodigy around the area. Her sword work was nothing to be trifled with. Some would even gush about what it would be like if she did have a vision. Then it happened, a strange string of life changing events.

She enjoyed spending her free time sitting under the statue of the seven in windrise. It gave her a reprieve from her day-to-day life of school, killing, then sleep. She polished her blade most days she sat there, enjoying the sounds of the wilderness around her.

As she sheathed her blade, wistfully thinking about what it would be like to magically summon and desummon it as a vision user, a light began to shine behind her. There was a flash, she thought maybe a vision might appear in front of her. But this was no test or life changing event. It didn’t make sense.

Wind surrounded her body, lifting her skit in the breeze. She turned, it followed with her. She lifted her hand as a power surged through her. A burst of wind jetted from her palm and sliced across the water. It trimmed the tops off the over grown grasses lining the ponds edge. The wind died down and left her for elsewhere as the light slowly faded out of existence.

Befuddled, she stared at the palms of her hands. She felt a power emanating from her core. With a trembling arm she raised her palm again, calling forth on the energy. It darted from her as before. Shocked, she tried it again and again, smiling gleefully with each blast of wind. She twirled around, searching for her vision, but came up empty.

That is how the first visionless anemo user was born. At first people didn’t believe her. Delusions were not unknown to the common folk of Teyvat. They were a staple favorite of the mafia families across the regions. But she quickly smashed those theories to pieces. Not only was she a poor farm girl fighting to survive, but where on earth would she have the money to afford such a thing. She allowed an inspection of her things and a pat down to prove it.

After the authorities decided that she did not have a vision she was free to do as she wished. That was until the head master of Teyvat’s school for the gifted showed up on her doorstep. The scholarship she was offered would give more money to her mother per month than she could in six months of hunting. She took it without question.

That’s how she ended up here, gawking at the building in front of her. The school defied the rumors. Statues carved from marble, fountains that defied gravity, even the wood it was built from looked impossibly expensive. Heck, the wildlife looked like they ate from golden platters.

The only thing that held her from running right back to the boat was a woman pinning her down with a chemically assisted cheerful gaze. A shiver ran up her spine as she waved her over. She obliged only because her eyes looked a hair away from snapping into crazy land.

“Welcome to Teyvat’s finest Lumine!” She cheered and began to clap.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, intimidated by her nature. She looked like a robot. Sleek black hair, not a strand out of place. Perfectly pressed blazer and pencil skirt in matching shades. Her glasses glistening in the sunlight, even if they were just plain black frames. She hoped not everyone in this school looked or felt this way.

“Follow me and I'll take you to your dorm. Then it’s a trip around campus!” She quipped then turned on her heel. Even her footsteps were a perfect tempo.

They walked through the faculty building, which thankfully looked normal inside. The site quelled her turning stomach. It was into the garden next that, as expected, looked immaculate. They even had a massive sand garden. Back in Mondstadt something like that would be destroyed in seconds.

Eventually they came upon another wooden building with a large ‘girls’ over it. The woman stopped and spun so fast on her heel Lumine almost let out small scream.

“This is the girl's dorm; your roommates are waiting for you inside with your things. I'll be back in thirty minutes for the rest of the tour,” she said, smile never once faltering as she left Lumine to her own devices.

Her roommates were nice, they greeted her in the common room just as her guide stated. Amber was a bit too enthusiastic for just about anything. Barbara was a very cheerful girl but was more reserved. It was a breath of fresh air to see two friendly faces. They led her to their dorm to get settled.

“So, what do you think?” Amber asked as Lumine began to unpack her luggage. Placing her uniforms carefully into her small closet along with her own casual clothing. Her own things almost felt dirty comparted to the schools uniform she was provided. And the room was much bigger than what she expected from a dormitory.

“It's overwhelming,” She admitted.

“You'll get used to it,” Amber laughed.

“Are you?” Lumine began to ask.

“Scholarship,” Amber answered, holding up her vision, “They keep the poor kids together so we don’t infect the rich kids.” She laughed.

“Hey!” Barbara yelled at her. Lips pointing into a pout.

“Except for Barbara, she requested to room with me. She's the exception.” Amber smiled at her friend.

“So, it's exactly how I thought it would be,” Lumine grumbled. This school was probably dripping with rich kids causing trouble for the normal folk, like she expected.

“Some of the students are alright, indifferent you might say. But there are,” Amber held up her hands as air quotes, “those types.”

“Will you guys be in my classes?” She asked.

“Nope, third years!”

Lumine felt her insides twist. Great, now she would be alone on her first day. At least her dorm would be nice. Amber was warm and friendly and Barbara seemed sweet even if she wasn’t talking as much. The pair would only be a year below her so they were still close in age. Hopefully she wouldn’t be moved to another dorm with the ‘adults’ if she attends the next four years after this one.

“You don’t want to be in our year anyways,” Barbara laughed.

“Whys that?” Lumine felt a small smile form for the first time since she set foot on the island. Barbara wiggled her eyebrows and gleamed over at Amber. She turned red in response and threw a pillow at her.

“Stop! Its not my fault!” She shouted.

“It’s gross the way he drools over his desk for you,” Barbara added.

“Mind filling me in?” Lumine asked.

“No!” Amber shouted.

“She has this wolf boy that follows her around and causes trouble. Its adorable,” Barbara said anyways.

“I didn’t ask for it he just did it!” Amber defended herself.

“It's like a comedy slash horror show every day,” Barbara giggled.

“Stop teasing me,” Amber whined.

“Wolf boy?” Lumine asked. Mondstadt had a steady population of people descendant of shape shifters or animals, but she had never seen a wolf before. Most of them were cats. Granted, she did keep to herself and didn’t really mix with the town folk, even at school.

“Half werewolf, half human, grew up in the wild before coming here earlier in the year,” Amber explained.

“He can smell everything, it's awful,” Barbara moaned, “one time I tried to bring some leftovers from lunch and he almost ripped apart my bag looking for it.”

“Sounds like a nice boyfriend,” Lumine said, hiding her smile as she sorted items into her desk drawers. Amber gasped from behind her. She swallowed a laugh.

“H-he's not my boyfriend!” She yelled. Lumine busted and began to giggled along with Barbara. She was interested in seeing the exchanges between the two now.

“Very funny guys, I'll make sure to make fun of your pain in suffering next time I get the chance.” Amber crossed her arms.

“Alright I'll stop,” Barbara waved her hand at her. A sharp knock on the door quickly soured the cheerful mood. The door swung open and Lumine’s guide walked in.

“Fantastic, I'm so glad you are getting along with your new housemates. We must complete the tour now.” The woman said, still as cheerful as ever. Lumine noticed Barbara and Ambers shoulders fell on her entrance. “I'll be waiting out front,” she chirped and left.

“God, Mrs.Lee always gives me the creeps,” Amber said.

“Glad it's not just me,” Lumine laughed as she stood.

“Good luck! See you at dinner,” Amber waved as Lumine exited the room. She heard faint whispers of gossip as she left but knew it was nothing bad, those girls didn’t have a mean bone in them.

They walked around campus and Lumine slowly became accustomed to the wildly expensive taste. She was shown the inside of the year one through four buildings, for the fourteen-to-eighteen-year old's. Then the outside of the adult facilities. Mrs. Lee assured the only real difference between the two was the uniform requirement and some extra freedoms.

After taking the tour she felt less overwhelmed, but it was the final stop that really cemented the reality most of the students lived in. It was the cafeteria of the school, but should have been classified as a food court. There was the line for the scholarship students where they could use one of three free meal tickets per day, or a snack coupon, all loaded onto her school ID. Wich was normal, same thing that she had in Mondstadt, minus the dinner.

What was different was the restaurants lining the walls. Everything you could imagine from each region on tap. And the prices were nothing to scoff at. A Fishermans toast was going for ten thousand mora, she could make that for less than three hundred back home. Lines scaled out to the isles as students waited, eager to be robbed for food.

“Lumine!” A familiar voice shouted. She sighed in relief. A distraction to this insanity was required right about now. She carried her tray adorned with less appetizing food from the school over to the table Amber sat at.

“This place is crazy,” Lumine sighed in exhaustion.

“My first day I ran away,” Amber laughed. She placed a spoon full of mac and cheese into her mouth.

“Those prices are more than I make in three weeks back home,” She said as she began to eat. Pleasantly surprised that even the free food was delectable. The pasta was perfectly cooked, cheese sauce an ideal creamy texture. She moved on to nibble at her cookie, baked expertly with a crispy outside and a gooey center. “God,” she murmured, savoring the taste.

“I told you, you get used to it,” Amber smiled sweetly. A book bag slamming down on the table instantly cleared her face. She looked up to see what she assumed was the wolf boy from earlier discussions. Lumine wondered why Amber felt it was bad to have his attention. He was attractive, silver hair and red eyes, giving him an exotic look. His arms were coated in scars and a massive one gashed his face, not a bad look if your into that type. Some of the girls back home would swoon over the attention.

“Why,” She groaned as he pulled out a seat, pushing it right up against hers as he sat a plate of meat and potatoes down. It must have been one of the free creature meals from the school line. He sat, making sure he was as close as physically possible to her.

Okay, maybe that’s why. Lumine began to understand.

He tilted his head like a new puppy, “Why?” He asked, voice thick with an unknown accent.

“We talked about this,” She shoved his chair away. “This is Razor,” She sighed as he sunk into his chair to pout. Lumine nodded and greeted him with a smile.

“I bought brownies!” Barbara sang as she skipped over to the table, “For our new friend,” She handed out the sweets, “And beef jerky for you,” She said as she handed Razor a slim piece of dried meat. He perked up and took it, chewing on it greedily. After the experience with the cookie Lumine thought the food couldn’t get better. But the brownie was smooth decadent layers of velvet chocolate that melted in her mouth. She had to suppress a groan.

There was a pickup of chatter in the room that pulled her from her chocolate induced fantasy. She looked towards the entrance of the café where a group of boys walked in. They were followed by a gaggle of other students, mostly female, all adorned with an expensive accessory or more.

Lumine was an honest person and she did not deny to herself that these boys looked like royalty. They walked with an air of confidence even through the crowd, knowing that the sea of students would part for them. She counted each of their visions, anemo, geo, cryo and hydro. There was a distinct leader to the group out of the four. A redhead who wore his vision on his belt, showing it off by messily tucking in half of his unkept shirt. Like he wanted people to see it, unlike the rest of them that wore them on chains by their side, as did everyone else in the school.

“Don't stare,” Amber hissed. Lumine snapped her eyes to her friends.

“Who are they?” She asked. Amber eyed her wearily before divulging the information.

“Sons of the school's elite,” She glanced back at the group to ensure they were distracted with food or girls before continuing, “The shorter one with green hair is Xiao, the son of the wangshu inn owner. The geo looking guy is Zhongli from the Wangsheng funeral parlor. Blue hair is Kaeya, one of the sons from the dawn winery.” Amber stopped speaking as she got to the last subject. Lumine quirked a brow as both Barbara and Amber swiveled their heads to check on the group again.

“It's not really them you should be weary of though; besides Xiao they are nice. Xiao has always had a stick up his butt,” Barbara added to the conversation.

“Then what is it, why are we acting like we are defusing a bomb?” Lumine asked.

“It's Childe, the redhead,” Amber whispered.

“Childe? That’s a dumb name,” Lumine thought out loud. The girls hissed at her to keep her voice down.

“He smells mean,” Razor added. Amber pulled on his ear.

“I told you not to talk about him,” She growled at him. He grasped her hand in his, forcing her to release.

“But you are!” he argued.

“Thats because we are warning her!” Amber explained. Razors eyes darted from Ambers to Lumines and he resigned himself back to his half-eaten steak.

Amber rolled her eyes and turned back to Lumine, “It’s not his real name, no one even knows his real name.”

“Childe is an awful nickname,” She whispered back to her friend.

“He’s mean, and evil, once he has you in his sights there's no stopping it.” Amber warned her.

“What about his friends? Don’t they say something?” She asked.

“They are rich, us poor folk don’t matter to them even if they act cordial towards us,” Amber told her as she leaned back, “Besides you don’t have a vision, he will probably just ignore you.”

Lumine widened her eyes, “well...” She felt a tint come to her cheeks, “Actually...”

Amber slammed her fists on the table, “NO WAY! YOUR THAT GIRL!” she screamed. Drawing the attention of half the students.

“Show us!” Barbara insisted.

“Ah, I don’t think now is the best time.” Lumine tried to quell her friend's voices but both girls were oblivious to the attention they were attracting. She glanced over at the red head she was warned about to make sure he was still entranced at whatever activity he had chosen.

“Awh comon I wanna see!” Amber whined.

“First anemo user in history without a vision! Don’t hold out on us!” Barbara added.

“Fine! Just stop yelling at me,” Lumine finally conceded. She put her palm face up on the table and gathered a small amount of wind to it. It tinted green with her power as it swirled into a miniature tornado in her palm.

“This is so cool!” Amber gasped.

“It's the same as anyone else,” Lumine said, closing her hand to cease the wind. She was more than a bit tired of people going ballistic over her powers.

“Let's get back to the dorms,” Amber suggested, “We have much to talk about,” She smiled gleefully. Razor whimpered next to her, “fine you can come too,” She sighed. Razor looked up with a beaming smile.

“Boys are allowed in the girls dorms?” Lumine asked as they gathered their trays and bags.

“Only until eight with a strict open-door policy,” Barbara told her.

She hummed in response as the group made their way over to the trash bins. Eyes were on her now, some searching for a vision trinket she didn’t possess. She was the last one out the door when a chill tingled down her spin. She grabbed the back of her neck and turned, expecting a cryo user to be standing there with a smirk on their face.

Instead, she was greeted with sea blue eyes cutting through the crowd. He smirked when they made eye contact. The chill went down her entire body. She glared as the door to the building swung shut, cutting them off.

Shit.

#chilumi #childe #lumine #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction

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xmint-conditionx · 3 years

Text

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank -

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist.

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose.

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA.

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there.

“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine.

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him.

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.”

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him.

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon.

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee.

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard.

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse.

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges.

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.”

The older man nods.

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

“Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.”

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.”

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.”

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration.

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore.

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.”

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top.

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging.

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?”

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

“Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him.

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash.

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face.

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy.

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity.

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding.

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!”

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?”

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.”

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.”

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly.

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment.

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away.

You recoil at that and curse yourself.

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing.

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.”

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with.

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”

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ootori-sibs · 3 years

Text

Birthday cake

Day three of @ohshc-week : kitchen/baking or self-discovery

"He doesn't like sweets! We can't use icing!"

"We're making a cake boss! It's gonna be sweet either way!"

Haruhi sighed, they were supposed to be making a birthday cake for Kyoya… but it was dissolved into messes and fighting. Honey and Mori were working on making little purple roses out of icing, well Honey was, Mori was more focused on stopping Honey from eating any of the ingredients.

The twins were fighting with Tamaki over how to decorate the cake, meanwhile poor Haruhi was the only one actually making the cake. Dark chocolate, with some cherries in, Haruhi couldn't help to notice how it was practically a black forest gateau but with some alterations to make it more enjoyable to the shadow king. She found it rather funny how Kyoya preferred a sharper taste to something sweet, it fit him so well, she was happy to use some tricks her mother had taught her; such as adding a pinch of salt with the sugar to keep the taste less sweet, or melting the butter a little before adding it so it's easier to mix. The hosts would probably be very confused by it, if they were paying attention to the actual cake instead of the decorations of it.

The twins were still arguing with Tamaki, they had been for around twenty minutes now. Haruhi sighed and walked over, arms crossed. "Are you three finished with your arguing yet? I need the cake bases now."

They glanced at her, and Tamaki practically melted into whining, "Haaarruuuuhuiii! Tell them we can't use icing! Kyoya doesn't like sweet things!!" He clung to her, pouting and just doing those horrid puppy eyes.

Haruhi just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms, "not liking sweet things doesn't mean we should leave the cake plain, we can just use a drizzle… how about a caramel sauce?"

The trio watched closely as Haruhi mixed the cream with the sugar and caramel, adding salt in spite of the concern that the hosts had. "Have you boys never cooked before? Of course you put salt in, otherwise it'd be too sweet," she didn't know why she'd even asked that, of course this gaggle of spoiled brats had never cooked before, they all had gourmet chefs working for them. She let the twins put the cake in the oven, barely glancing to make sure they got the settings right, as she was preoccupied with the huge bowl of caramel sauce. Tamaki however, was just sat there doing nothing, so Haruhi sighed, turning to him, "senpai, can't you think of something to do?"

The king pouted, resting his head on the counter, "noo… I'm bored…" he glanced up at Haruhi, big puppy eyes on full blast.

She sighed, rolling her eyes at him, "why don't you just make some little marzipan balls for decoration? That should keep you busy." She slid the tray of marzipan towards him, smiling softly when he instantly got to work, rolling little orbs of white and black.

After the decorations were all ready, sitting on their trays, ready for the cake to finish baking. Tamaki perked up slightly, "do you think Kyoya's back from spending time with his brothers yet? I wanna give him his cards and gifts!"

The twins shrugged, "we don't know, we asked him to text us but he hasn't yet."

Honey giggled, "his brothers probably don't want to stop hanging out with him! I know I wouldn't want to stop spending time with Chika." Oh yeah, Honey definitely had a unique perspective on this situation, having a younger sibling of his own, Mori, having one too, nods in agreement.

Haruhi sighs, finally relaxing, "we've only got an hour to wait until the cake's done, then we wait half an hour before we decorate it, so we wouldn't even be able to spend that much time with him without leaving again."

At these words, the hosts all collectively pouted, it was Kyoya's birthday after all, and all they wanted was to spend time with their beloved shadow king. They sat and waited in silence after that, staring at the oven as the cakes were baking. As much as they joked that Kyoya was heartless and cruel, he was mommy for a reason; he went out of his way to make sure everyone was doing the best they could, he took care of 80% of the duties that were really supposed to be Tamaki's job, he always had a bag or two of sweets in his bag- even though he wasn't that big of a fan of sweet things, really he was the mother of the group, no matter how much he tried to deny it. They all loved him with all their hearts, and wanted The best for him, unfortunately Kyoya isn't very open to love and affection, so the hosts have to be sneaky when showing their care with him.

The more Haruhi thought about it, the more Kyoya was like a particularly feral cat- one that was suddenly been shown affection and warmth; he was entirely self-sufficient, he treated literally everyone as if they were incapable and needed him to keep them going, was disgusted by the idea of affections, but silently craved being seen in a positive light, he was loving and caring but denied ever being such things, hiding it behind a rough and cruel exterior. The thought made her smile fondly, though she did wish they could just tell him how much they cared, instead of having to dance it around and hope he understands.

She knew what almost everyone had bought Kyoya, they'd all shown off happily. She felt a little bad about her measly little scarf she'd made him, but he always seemed too cold, hands shaking almost every time she saw them, he did so much for everyone- Haruhi just wanted to do something considerate back. The boys, as is typical of rich people, used gift being as an unwitting display of wealth; each gift more ornate and expensive then the next.

The twins had gotten him a four piece suit, complete with a male corset and rather impressive shoes. It was black and purple, with silver details, they'd even bought practically a bucketful of accessories, stating that Kyoya's outfits were always so plain. The accessories were quite tasteful, although some may be too feminine for Kyoya's tastes.

Honey of course, had gotten Kyoya many different squishies and stress balls and other fidgety, stimulating toys. Haruhi thought this was a great idea, even if some of them are a tad cutesy, Kyoya's always so angry, he's definitely going to appreciate them! Then she saw him pull out a fidget toy with opals on it, sure it was pretty, but do they have to flaunt wealth at every point? At least Honey had a good reason, stating that black opal was Kyoya's favourite gemstone. Another good thing about these toys, is that honey had them custom made, and claimed that they were made to be practically indestructible, which was rather impressive- and needed too, Haruhi had seen Kyoya dent an armoured car in a fit of rage, any toys he had would have to be able to put up with that level of violence.

Mori had bought a couple of books he thought Kyoya might find interesting, as well as a new usb with pdf copies of each book, Haruhi honestly thought that was one of the best gifts, thoughtful and subtle, then Mori showed them the books and they were all first edition copies. Haruhi had sat there, cursing the frivolous spending of these boys, was this a competition to them?

Tamaki had happily shown off the gift he'd gotten for Kyoya, pens, lots and lots of pens, a whole briefcase of them; fountain pens, gel pens, erasable pens, gold, diamonds, opals- just the most decadent set of pens you've ever seen, the fountain pens had refilled in every known colour, and the briefcase itself had gold embellishments. Haruhi was, in all honesty, blown away even imagining how much that had coated, did he have to spend so much money on pens? Although she knew Kyoya would appreciate pens, he broke one practically every week, and wrote like nobody's business. He was the only person haruhi had even known to actually run out of ink in a pen.

So it was clear the hosts were vying for the most expensive gift, and Haruhi couldn't help but feel slightly inferior for the little purple and green scarf she'd made Kyoya, it was rather nice looking in her opinion, and it has taken her quite a while… she really hoped Kyoya would appreciate it.

By now, the cakes had not only finished baking, but they'd cooled as well, so the twins placed the first layer, about the size of a wheel, on the plate. Honey added the whipped cream before Mori put the second layer on top, there were four layers in total, stacking up nice and high. Haruhi had got a chair to stand on and poured the caramel sauce over the cake, making sure it was entirely coated, with a nice pool at the bottom. She'd then stepped back, letting Tamaki and the twins place the marzipan balls that Tamaki had made whilst Mori and Honey placed the little purple roses made out of icing, life size and miniature too.

When they were finished, the cake looked beautiful, they were all so proud of it. Proud… and covered in the ingredients, they really looked a mess, they should probably clean up before leaving the kitchen. Haruhi was the least covered in eggs and flour, she only had some caramel on her sleeve. So she was the one to add the candles, purple and white striped ones, all 18 of them. God, this was a big birthday huh, he was an adult now. No wonder his family finally wanted to spend time with him.

Kyoya had returned, rolling his eyes at how excited Tamaki was, the blonde hanging off his arm. He glanced around the room, clearly taking in the sigh of all the gifts and cards gotten for him, there was a table full of things from the guests, and each host was holding the gift they'd gotten for him. He just sighed, adjusting his jumper, it was big, grey and oversized, not the kind of thing he'd normally wear. He put his shopping bags down, glancing over at the hosts, "why are we making a fuss about this? It's just getting a little older."

"But Kyoya! Don't think of it like aging! Think of it more like… surviving yet another year? Isn't that something worth celebrating?" Tamaki smiles, hugging Kyoya's arm.

Kyoya visibly pauses, thinking over what Tamaki had said, almost looking sad, just for a moment, then he smiled slightly, nodding, "ok, sure… You know Tamaki, you sound just like Fiyumi sometimes, she says that, every year…" Tamaki stops for a moment, turning and looking at Kyoya in silence, he then rushed over, hugging Kyoya.

"Hey come on! Let's not focus on the idea of the other end of things! Let's celebrate! We all got you something!" He beamed, stepping back and gesturing to the other hosts, "come see what we got you!"

They had Kyoya sit down in Tamaki's big chair, handing him gift after gift after gift. They had opened the ones from the guests first, all sorts of cute and shiny nonsense, too many chocolate boxes to count- for the last requested host, Kyoya sure had a lot of fans. Then they came to the gifts gotten by each host, the gift the twins had gotten Kyoya made him smile, he'd rolled his eyes, "god, Yuuichi tells me that every day, he says I dress strangely, he got me this jumper, he says I look better when I dress cutely." They'd laughed at that, and Honey had handed him the gift he'd gotten.

That gift had made Kyoya pause for a bit, picking some up and looking at them, before fiddling with one of the fidget toys, and getting entirely engrossed in it, until Tamaki shakes him gently. Kyoya sighed then turned to Honey, nodding gently, "thank you." Honey had beamed at that, happily pointing out that it was indestructible, because he'd seen how destructive Kyoya can be without even realising. Kyoya had frozen at that, looking down at the toy in his hands, something seemingly coming to mind, something he very openly didn't like, dropping the toy back into the box. It seemed Mori had noticed that, nudging the box aside with his foot and placing the gift he had gotten, onto Kyoya's lap, a little hum of assurance.

Kyoya opened the gift, looking at it for a moment before picking one up, running a finger along the spine before reading the blurb on the back of the book, then another, then another. Slowly, Kyoya read the blurbs of each of the books, before carefully placing them all back into their box, he turned to Mori, nodding, "these all seem like very interesting books, Thank you." Mori hums again, placing a gentle hand on the top of Kyoya's head, a gesture that did not go unnoticed. Kyoya sighed softly, closing his eyes for a second, the closest any of the hosts had ever seen to him reciprocating affection, and Tamaki's eyes lit up, if just for a moment. But the king stepped aside, and let Haruhi hand Kyoya her gift first.

The shadow king looked down at the brown paper wrapping, nothing he was at all used to, he used his nails, surprisingly sharp as they were, to tear into it, playing around with the texture for a moment or two, before tearing into the paper. He looked almost surprised at the soft wooden scarf that lay across his lap now, the greens and the purple sitting in unison, he picked it up, testing the feel of it in his fingers… he smiled. He slowly wrapped the scarf around his neck, clearly pleased by how soft it was, he glanced at Haruhi, curiosity clear in his eyes, "did you make this?" Haruhi had nodded, telling him how it took her over a month, he glanced back down at the scarf, rubbing the wool between his fingers, "hm, it's very good quality, welldone Haruhi, and thank you." These words sent Tamaki into a frenzy, going on about how Mommy and darling daughter were getting along so well, and Haruhi noticed how Kyoya just smiled softly at that, watching the king flounder about with adoring eyes.

Haruhi had paused, she'd glanced across at the twins, then to Honey, then Mori, then finally to Tamaki, she was beginning to notice how much all of them loved each other, how much she loved all of them. She wondered if they were aware of how much they loved each other, or was that just a Tamaki thing… she wasn't even sure Tamaki was all too aware.

When Kyoya saw the pens Tamaki had bought him, he was near tears- of course that was an exaggeration, an Ootori never cried, they were infamous for such, but Kyoya's eyes were certainly wet as he stared down at all those shimmering beauties, his hand twitched, clearly wanting to hold them, but he glanced up at Tamaki instead, "I can't take these, I break pens so easily, I'd just ruin them…" his voice, it was shaking, if Haruhi didn't know any better, she'd say Kyoya sounded scared of breaking the pens.

Tamaki had smiled softly, putting a gentle hand over Kyoya's shaking one, "don't worry Kyoya! I don't mind if you break them, as long as you enjoy writing with them. Not everything is meant to stay forever, no matter how beautiful!" Kyoya clearly didn't believe him, so Tamaki sighed, continuing, "and even if they do break, they'll still be beautiful, I know beautiful things that break and break and break and they're still as beautiful as the day I saw them first, even if they can't be used for their original purpose, besides, you can always fix them can't you?"

She'd been suspicious of something for a while now, since that night near the beach, with that thunderstorm… and Kyoya, being just as much of a feel as the other boy's… she'd thought about her theory as he'd told her how the club was formed, when Kyoya's father had slapped him, as she watched him watch Tamaki's car leave during the festival, when they stood together under the fireworks and Kyoya had kept a couple of steps distance, and right now… She hoped to god Tamaki didn't mean what she thought he did, standing next to Kyoya, her hand went to his forearm, smiling at him as he looked at her, "those are pretty pens senpai, I'd be a shame if you didn't write with them. If you break them then that's not your fault, pens aren't anything like people, so you shouldn't feel too bad if you break it."

Kyoya had paused for a moment, ruminating on something, before he nodded, "you're right, both of you, I'd love to write with these pens, thank you Tamaki- it's a wonderful gift." There was silence, just a comfortable, soft silence, everyone was smiling, everyone was happy.

Then Honey piped up, jumping up and down, "cake time! Cake time!"

Kyoya had glanced back at him in alarm, "cake? But I-"

The twins shrugged at that, speaking in unison, "well you have to have a cake, it's your birthday." Kyoya didn't seem to want to argue with that, so he just let Haruhi turn the lights off, and take out a camera as Mori brought the cake in, with Honey hopping around behind him.

They sang happy birthday, though Tamaki had decided to make his way to the piano, playing them a melody to sing to, he himself was singing the words in french, that blended into the Japanese to create a strange sound, one that felt comforting to them all, they didn't understand the words Tamaki sang, but they knew their meaning. Mori brought the cake over and placed it on a table in front of Kyoya, who looked at it, in… what had to be awe. Everyone knew Kyoya wasn't one for sweets, but the way he stared at that cake, Haruhi had to wonder if it wasn't so much a dislike, as it was a show, a character he was building.

He stood up to blow the candles out, rolling his eyes as everyone clapped, but when they had finished he did have one question, "did you make this?" Everyone nodded, happily explaining the things they had done, and the steps taken to make sure that Kyoya enjoys it. With every word spoken, it's clear that Kyoya becomes more and more touched by the notion, then when he would argue the need for a cake not five minutes ago.

They each got a slice, though Kyoya got the biggest- Honey had talked his way into getting the second biggest of course, the cake was actually delicious, not as sweet as they'd expected, though they never saw Haruhi add the salt, she was rather proud of her baking personally, though she had to admit the things the others did were indeed vital for the cakes success. She had glanced over to Kyoya, noticing how slowly he was eating his cake, other than Tamaki and the twins rambling on about something or other, it was quiet, and Haruhi just watched Kyoya eat. It was strange, she genuinely couldn't tell if he was happy or not, he'd seemed happy throughout the gift giving, but now his expression was blank. She wondered if his so-called hatred for sweet things outlived his love for his friends, or maybe he just didn't know how to deal with enjoying something. The last time Haruhi had watched him eat like she was right now, they'd been in a mcdonald's, and he had shown terrible table manners, but right now, he was moving as perfectly polite and daintily as a human possibly could, especially for a human that breaks things on a daily basis, Haruhi was forced to come to the conclusion that… maybe Kyoya was monitoring his own behaviour, he must be enjoying the cake the same way he enjoyed everything, with massive amounts of guilt.

#ohshcweek #kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club #implied polyhosts #polyhosts #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #hikaru and kaoru #mori #takashi morinozuka #honey #mitsukuni haninozuka #ootori siblings #(mentioned)

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futurewriter2000 · 3 years

Text

Heartless - pt. 17

A/N: Yall. I know how long this took me but it also took me so long to know what I want out of this. I decided to change the plot a bit. Hope yall like.

You walked down the stairs and found your brother and Sirius sitting down by the breakfast table, talking. When you had entered, all became silenced. They both looked at you with a furrow of an eyebrow and you greeted them just the same.

“Had I interrupted something?” you walked by James and ruffled his hair.

“No.” James smiled back at you, watching you make yourself your cup of coffee.

You put the coffee in front of yourself and stared at it for a moment.

“I already made you one.” James smiled, pushing the cup in front of himself and into your sight.

Turning around, you saw the cup in front of your chair, looking darn innocent but giving you the most uncomfortable feeling in your gut.

“Why?” you asked in suspicion, sitting down at it and looking at it with curiousity. “You never make me coffee.”

“Thought it’d be a nice change.”

You looked at Sirius. He seemed to be clueless about everything. He only shrugged. “Don’t look at me, darls. He’s acting strange all mornin.”

“Come on. Take a sip. I wanna see how I made it.” James persisted but the feeling in your gut grew more uncomfortable by the minute.

You took the cup into your hand and took a long breath in. Just a breath, a scent, a smell... and you knew. Because if truth serum ever smelt like anything, it definitely gave an odd scent of lavender.

You placed it back down and pushed it back to him. “Thank you for the coffee but I decided to cut it off.” you stood up and left back to your dorm, hearing him curse under his breath as you did.

He really tried. What an asshole.

---

The day passed quickly as you shut yourself into your room and grabbed a book. Before you knew it, it was time to go out with Mulciber and for some odd reason, you had a bunch of butterflies in your stomach. However, despite the excitement, you could still feel grumpy due to the lack of caffeine in your body. You hadn’t drank anything all day, or eaten, so you had hoped to that Mulciber and you would get something to eat.

You grabbed your black jeans, a plain Adidas T-shirt that you tucked into your belt, a black jacket over and some white sneakers. He said edgy and to you this is a perfect edgy style; with your hair up in a high ponytail, some silver earings, mascara and a black underline was just what you were in the mood for. Grabbing your watch on the way out, you ran down the stairs and went for the door. “I’m going out!” you shouted and slammed the door behind you but as soon as you tucked your hands into your jacket pocket, you heard the door open and a male voice call after you.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?!”

“OUT, JAMES!”

“WITH WHO?!”

“WITH NINA!” you lied and turne around the corner.

He really didn’t have to know everything and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t feel the need to tell him things anymore. You felt more comfortable not telling him than you ever did to tell him. You hadn’t trusted Sirius as well, not because he was untrustworthy but because he and James were connected in a bond that was hard to trust.

So you had walked along the trail until you had seen him standing there with his perfect locks of curls bouncing above his shoulders. He flashed you a toothy grin and opened his arms. You smiled wildly and ran to him, hugging him tightly.

You had no clue where this excitement came from but he just felt so safe.

He let out a laugh and hugged you tightly, spinning you around. “You’re surely excited to see me.”

You pulled away and smiled as well. “Just take me away from here.”

“Right on, Gorgeous.”

---

You walked along side him, bumping your shoulder into his as he did the same- both of you smiling at each other and feeling butterflies in your stomachs. He got a bit excited, jumping in front of you and starting to walk backwards and putting a cigar inbetween his lips and lighting up.

“Here’s the plan, Gorgeous.” he opened his arms and thrown his head to the side- exactly to the tattoo parlor on the corner of the street. “That.” he said and you stopped in your tracks.

“A tattoo.”

“Or a piercing darling. Gotta spice you up a bit.”

“Spice me up?” you let out a laugh, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him.

“Oh, we both know you had always wanted a nose piercing.” he narrowed his eyes at you and taking your hand into his, pulling you to it. Then stopping all of sudden and pulling you against him. He looked down, his greasy strand falling down the side of his head, the edge touching, brushing against your nose. He leaned down, almost in a kiss for which you were more than ready since you almost hung yourself on him but in your surprise he only smiled and pulled away again.

You felt yourself fall into cold water when he had done that but you didn’t mind it. You liked his teasing because two can play this game.

“Let’s go pierce my nose then.” you said and opened the door, looking around and finding a woman standing behind the desk.

You walked to her with all your confidence and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“I’m here to pierce my nipples.”

“Your what?!” you heard Mulciber exclaim, his eyes widening in surprise as his mouth couldn’t help themselves but smile upwards into a pleasure.

“Yeah.” you threw your head over your shoulder and bit your lower lip. “Wanna watch?” you gave him a cheeky grin, leaning back on your elbows as you puffed out your chest.

He felt the heat rise in his body, his thoughts wandering to those wonderful shape of your chest as his eyes tried everything but go there.

With enough time passed between you and his answer, you chose to turn back around and smile at the woman who was watching you with her own, pleased grin. “I’m joking. I’d love a nose piercing and maybe on the surface?”

“Alright. Just sign here.”

“Oh, you disappoint me, darling.” Mulciber leaned on the desk as well, watching you from the side with his heterochromical eyes and without removing them from you, he spoke to the woman as well. “I’d like one on my left ear. The stick if possible.”

You smiled, signed the paper and took off your jacket, leaving him behind. “I’m first.”

----

“Bullshit!” he cursed as he continued to touch his ear. “This hurt like a motherfucking hell.”

You laughed. “Really? Mine was easy peasy.” you shrugged and he shoved you playfully.

“Liar. I feel what you feel, you little asshole.”

You laughed again. “Yeah, yours really was extremely uncomfortable.”

“Not as much as your surface one. Lemme look at it.” he said as he stopped to look at your breasts.

“Excuse me, young man.” you pushed him gently away. “Not yet.” you winked and started walking forward again. “I feel like my family would kill me if they saw it.” you looked down on your chest where your new piercing was made, covered by a band-aid.

“Yeah but it’s your body so they really don’t have an opinion of what you do with it.” he said casually, shrugging as you nodded in return.

“That is so...” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Wait- that’s coming from you?” you pointed your finger at him with a surprise as he let out a laugh, grabbed your finger and pulled you close to him.

“I’m not so cruel, am I?”

“You’re full of surprises, that’s for sure.” you pulled your finger from his grasp and started walking forward.

“What did you think of me, really?” he asked out of curiousity.

“Self-observed, egoistical narcassist with a god complex.”

“You just found four words to one description. I’m invested.” he laughed. “What else?”

“Whenever I saw you at the hall, I sort of had the feeling of understanding you. Why you were so cruel to other’s without any reason behind it.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I wanted to punch somebody because of my anger too.” you started to walk slower, him walking beside you in silence. “Feeling so imprisoned and alone and seeing all these happy people with zero problems.” you stopped and turned to him. “When I saw you, I was sort of jealous of you. I wanted to destroy other people for having what I wanted to even though I had a roof over my head and a bed and a warm shower, I always had felt like being outside in the cold air with rain pouring on me would be so much more fullfilling than that house.”

“But your family loves you.”

“And so they say but I do not feel loved by them at all.”

“And that is where I can understand you completely.” he smiled, though it was a serious topic of conversation. “My family is cold and all they say is that they are doing things for my own benefit but when there is no affection in the parents, there is no affection in the children as well.” he took your hand and pulled you down on the bench with him. “I knew we’d be friends the moment I saw you rebelling against your brother in your second year. You got cold and distant and mysterious and it was as if I was looking at a mirror.”

“Thanks, I guess?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I know you understand me. I know you want what I want.”

“Which is?”

“Power.”

You felt pulled into his voice, into everything what he was saying but it was like a constant battle inside of you. Because you had your brother, Sirius, your parents and Nina, Marcus who always kept telling you love, kindness and good deeds will be more fullfilling than anything else in the world but Mulciber was right. You did want power. You wanted it more than anything and for the first time in a long time, here, on this bench with this person right in front of you, was the place you felt like you belonged to.

You smiled- a smile that wasn’t so innocent anymore. A smile that finally resembled something in which James was always known for; mischief.

“I knew you were never truly a Gryffindor. You’re brave, that’s for sure but you’re more a Slytherin, more one of us.” he kept holding your hands and causing your soul to light on fire; ambitious fire- fire of life that needed so long to be ignited. “But the house doesn’t matter. As long as you stay with me... choose me... we’re going to concquer the world together.” he paused, staring into your eyes as you continued to listen. “So what do you say, gorgeous? What do you choose?”

And without a second doubt, you answered: “I choose you.”

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black #mulciber x reader #mulciber imagine #mulciber imagines #james potter imagine #james potter #marauders #marauders imagines #marauders imagine #marauders era #marauders x reader

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darkfairy-tales · 4 years

Text

Insanity - Chapter 1

Description: She was an angel who came across the devil himself and her existence drove him insane.

Pairing: Sangyeon x Reader

Genre: Mafia au

Warning: Mentions of blood. Swearing.

"Shouldn't have stayed long! Shouldn't have helped Minsu. Should have gone home earlier. God why is it so dark." You ranted to yourself as you closed down the cafe and looked up at the sky. The moon was mostly covered by some cloud and only few little stars were there. You sighed. The lack of moonlight and the lack of proper lightning on the streets made everything so creepy. On top of that it was really late for you. You were jalf glad that you didn't stayed with your parents. Oh they would have given you a whole speech on how dangerous it is if you ever got back home to them late at night. The cafe you worked at was owned by Minsu's family. She was your bestfriend. She was usually the one who closed down the shop at the end of the day which was usually at around 10:30pm. For her it was nothing as her house was just a block away. But your house was a little far. She had a date tonight and had literally begged you to close down for her for the night. You had agreed even though you were a little hesitant. You weren't a fan of staying out till late. Putting the keys inside your bag and your phone in your hand you started walking down the streets. Your breath hitching everytime you heard some sort of noise. You completely stilled in front of an narrow alleyway which was dark when you heard a hush voice. "Fuck fuck fuck." You heard someone curse with a groan in a hush voice. You gulped willing yourself to not look at the dark. You walked forwards gripping your phone.

'What if it is someone who needs my help? What if someone is in dire need of help and if I just walk away they might get hurt and fuck it would be my fault.' You thought to yourself. "Oh screw this!" You groaned stomping your foot on the concrete. You turned back and walked inside the dark alley turning the torch of your phone on using it as the source of light to guide you. "H-Hello! Is anyone here?" You called out shivering. You looked at each side to see who it was. You almost stopped breathing when your eyes fell on a guy. He was... handsome. Sharp features. And you would have commented on it if it weren't for the fact that the guy was literally a stranger, in a dark alley with you and had what seemed like a gun shot wound with blood dripping out. You squeaked. 'Gunshot wound!' you screamed internally. The guy had also looked up at you. He looked surprised and alarmed. "Who the fuck are you?" The guy literally snarled. You stepped back a little. You turned around planning to run away but stopped. "Fuck I can't leave you here." You mumbled. You walked up towards the guy. "Mr. uh sh-should I call an ambulance. Oh my god shit you are... you are loosing too much blood." You rambled. "Don't fucking dare call an ambulance. I can't go to hospital or shit." He growled. "What do I do then! You can't die." You hissed. He looks at you oddly. "Why do you care?" He asked narrowing his eyes at you. "I can't.. I can't just leave someone bleeding out here like this! I am not cruel enough to do that. And if you died here I will be guilty till the day I die." You deadpanned.

"You need medical help. You are l-loosing too much blood Mr." You said. "I said I can't go to hospital." He hissed. You sighed as you took off your bag, opening it. Your pulled out your scarf. 'I am sorry dear beautiful scarf.' "Put your hands away." You said. "What are you trying to do?" He asked not moving his hands at all. "Help. So that you don't die." You said as you pulled his hands away from the wound. You used your scarf to press against the wound. Looking down at the wound seriously. "I am Y/N." You said shortly. You weren't sure why you felt the need to introduce yourself but you did. "Sangyeon. I guess you at least deserve to know my name." He says cockily making you click your tongue. "Press it against the wound. Don't let yourself bleed out too much." You said and he followed your instruction. "Is there anyone you can call? Like anyone who can help you." You asked as you stood in front of him. He smirks looking right into your eyes. "Pretty girls like you shouldn't run after me." He says in a low voice. He couldn't believe how stubborn you were. He sat leaning against the dirty wall of the alley, a gunshot wound on his side.

If it was someone else they would have ran away or called police. But you. You were different. You didn't even knew him yet you were so willing to help him. Sangyeon wasn't so sure if you were too kind for your own good or just plain stupid. You were just like an innocent angel while he was a devil. You weren't supposed to be here. And totally not supposed to try help him. "Give me your phone." He says. You were hesitant but still handed it to him. You saw him dial a number and tap 'call' button. "Sunwoo. Listen. Come to where I am. Yes I am fine! Well as fine as a person who has been shot is." Sangyeon grumbled. He pauses as he listens closesly whatever the other man was saying. He looked up at you making you look away feeling a little shy. "Come fast. I don't know if they are still after me." He says pulling away the phone and ending the call. "You realize you didn't tell the guy where you are." You sassed. "They can track me. Don't worry your pretty little head." He says chuckling. "Are you... really fine?" You asked a bit concerned noticing how he seem to have gotten a bit pale. "I will be fine sweetheart. But I think you should run away at the moment. My men are coming and I don't think they would really appreciate your presence." Sangyeon says.

You bit your lips feeling hesitant but also dying to go home. There were blood on your hand and you were desperate to wash it away. "Okay fine I will... I will go. Give me my phone." You says putting your hands out. "I can't. I have to keep it with myself. My men are going to be tracking your phone to find me so I need it. I will give it back to you soon." He says. You look at him eith your mouths open. "B-but my phone-" You stuttered but stopped. "No can do sweet heart. Now now run. You should go fast." He says with a smirk. You weren't sure if your heart was beating so fast because you were scared or because of the fact that this sangyeon guy, whatever he was, was so so charming and not to forget beautiful. "Take care." It's the last words you say as you gripped your bag, turning around and walking out of the alley. You literally ran towards your house. Shortly after a while you reached there. You huffed as you tried to take deep breathes in feeling the lack of oxygen with how fast you ran and how choked up you felt. You unlocked the door, your hands shaking while doing so. You carefully walked inside the house and into your room. You went to the bathroom directly. "W-why the hell this doesn't go away fast!" You whisper yelled as you rinsed your hands under the water wiping the blood away. After rinsing away all the blood carefully you washed your face and changed into your PJs, flopping down on the bed immediately. Too tired. You mind was a mess. Your heart was still beating fast. That night you dreamed of guns, blood and a certain guy names Sangyeon.

[Next Day]

The next day you woke up early and got ready to to the cafe to open it as the key was with you. Minsu comes to the cafe a few minutes after you had opened up the cafe and were setting up some things. "Y/N!!! I had such an amazing night! Younghoon is such a damn nice guy! He asked for a second date and I agreed. And what the hell! Why did you pick up my calls! I kept calling you last night. Because I wanted to thank you again and also make sure you were okay." Minsu rambles. You gulp. "U-Uh I lost my phone yesterday on my way back to home. Tried to find but I couldn't. Maybe someone took it." You lied. Minsu gasped. "You need to get a new one then! I mean without phone how can we even keep in touch with each other." She says. You chuckled at her. "Yes yes I will. For now let's finish setting up everything. Customers are going to start coming in." You said as you walked at the back to prepare a drink for you and Minsu.

'I hope he is fine.' You found yourself thinking about Sangyeon while making the drink. "Aish why am I even thinking about him?" You asked yourself. "Him? Who is this 'him' huh? A boyfriend perhaps?" Minsu says smiling sheepishly as she approached you. You alnost choked on air at her words. "No one! I was talking about... about my idols! Kai hurt his foot again and I am worried and I keep thinking about him!" You blurted out an excuse. Before Minsu could ask more there was a sound of bells jingling as a customer entered and you were thankful as it stopped Minsu from asking something more. She walks out to greet the customer, leaving you again. You just couldn't tell Minsu about the guy from last night. She will freak out and might end up calling police for all you knew. You sighed to yourself looking outside to see another customer walk in. "It's gonna be a long day~" You mumbled to yourself as you went out to take orders. Hopefully you wouldn't be worrying and thinking about the Sangyeon guy the whole day.

Trailer || Next Chapter

Hello everyone! I am so sorry it took so much time to update this! But yayy my exan finally ended and I can finally post more now! I hope you enjoyed reading this. Don't forget to like and reblog! I will try to post as fast as I can again!

Love you all~ Buiii ♪ ♬ ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ ♬ ♪ ❤❤

#the boyz sangyeon #the boyz jacob #the boyz younghoon #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz juyeon #the boyz kevin #the boyz chanhee #the boyz changmin #the boyz sunwoo #the boyz hwall #the boyz eric #the boyz haknyeon #the boyz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz mafia #mafia au #the boyz gang au

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writerwithacat · 3 years

Text

hold my hand, save my heart

summary:

“I know this is sudden, but I think you’re the only one here who understands me.”

Mukuro is a little less willing to stand by and watch her classmates fall into despair.

pairings: Mukuro Ikusaba/Sayaka Maizono

warnings: none that I can think of. let me know if I missed anything!

also on ao3.

Mukuro leaned against the wall next to the school store. She was tempted to hide in her room for a reprieve from pretending to be someone else. It wasn’t like Junko needed help knowing what everyone was doing. Regardless, she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for reconnaissance if it helped calm her own paranoia.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and immediately shifted her pose as casually as she could to get a better look. Sayaka was approaching with a nervous look on her face.

Mukuro decided not to say anything unless Sayaka talked to her first. If she was being honest, she was surprised she hadn’t killed anyone yet after her breakdown over the motive. It’s true that she and Makoto had comforted her, but she didn’t think it should have made a real difference.

It had been more difficult than she’d thought it would be to watch her classmates lose composure. She didn’t really understand how Junko could relish in despair. Still, knowing everything was going to plan made her happy for her.

“Um… Junko?”

Mukuro met Sayaka’s gaze. “Huh? Do you need something?”

Sayaka looked down. “I’m really sorry, I just… I was wondering if you wanted to hang out? I don’t want to be alone right now, and you were so nice the other day…”

Mukuro gave herself a moment to curse her own incompetence in social situations before giving the best response she could muster. “Sure thing! Yesterday was freaking crazy… I don’t blame you for flipping out a bit.”

Sayaka smiled. “Ah, thanks! Do you think we could go to my room?”

“Of course!”

The two walked to Sayaka’s room in a comfortable silence. Mukuro was worried about how she’d handle conversation with an idol, since she ruined conversations with her famous sister almost constantly, but luckily Sayaka didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood.

They entered Sayaka’s dorm. It was a lot plainer than Mukuro’s. Her own room’s walls were covered in guns. Obviously the Ultimate Pop Sensation’s room would be different than hers, but she had at least expected to see something related to singing in here.

“It really is plain, isn’t it?” Sayaka said.

Mukuro blinked. “H-huh? How did you…?”

“I’m psychic!” Sayaka tilted her head and smiled.

“Wait, are you for real?” Mukuro took a step back in faux surprise. She knew Sayaka was just kidding— she’d said it so many times to everyone in their class it would be impossible not to.

“Just kidding!” Sayaka giggled. “Really, you don’t need to look so worried.”

Mukuro huffed. “Jeez… Don’t scare me like that.”

Sayaka sat down on her bed and stared down at her hands. Mukuro was useless with facial expressions, but she assumed that Sayaka had to still be upset over the motive, even if she wasn’t acting like it.

Mukuro’s assumption was confirmed when Sayaka started talking. “Um… I have a confession to make. I actually invited you over here for a specific reason.”

Mukuro sat down next to her. “What is it?”

Sayaka clenched her skirt like she was steeling herself. Her smile was gone. “I know this is sudden, but I think you’re the only one here who understands me.”

Mukuro stayed silent. “I mean… You’re the Ultimate Fashionista, right? I tried talking to Makoto, but… He doesn’t really get it even if he says he does. He doesn’t have fans waiting for him. He doesn’t know what it’s like to deal with…” Sayaka trailed off.

Mukuro cringed internally. This situation was going to take acting skills she didn’t possess. She understood Junko better than anyone else, but applying the knowledge was an entirely different situation.

Sayaka grabbed Mukuro’s hands and looked directly into her eyes. Mukuro stiffened.

“I can’t do this.” Sayaka’s voice grew more shrill with every word. “Those videos… My group… Junko, if I don’t get out of here soon—” She cut herself off, but she didn’t turn away. Her eyes were wide and desperate; her face pale with fear. Mukuro could feel her shaking.

Mukuro was torn. Junko would want her to cause despair— but would being cruel make Sayaka suspicious? She wasn’t good at manipulation like her sister. On the other hand, even if she wanted to comfort her instead, she wouldn’t know how.

A cold, heavy feeling rested in her throat. “Sayaka… I’m flattered or whatever, but I can’t help you.”

Sayaka dug her nails into Mukuro’s hands, seemingly without realizing it. “I know how to tell when someone is faking it. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made it so far in the industry. You… You were being fake, the other day, when you helped me. I’m the same way! That’s why I thought… It was worth the risk to ask you.” Her face was still turned in Mukuro’s direction, but her eyes were unfocused.

Physical confrontations she could handle without breaking a sweat. Emotional confrontations were… far more difficult. She wasn’t scared of social interaction, but she never knew what to do.

Mukuro extracted her hands from Sayaka’s grip. “This whole thing is messed up, and I don’t blame you for being freaked out, but what do you want me to do? We’re all stuck here!”

“I want you to tell me I’m not alone in this. Please just tell me that.”

“That’s a lot to ask a total stranger, isn’t it?”

“I know. But I need to try.”

“But like… You have Makoto. What do you need me for?”

“You’re right. I care about Makoto.” Sayaka said. “But he’s not enough. Not compared to my group. They’re like my family.”

Mukuro tried to summon up her sister’s distinctive confidence. “So what does that have to do with me? I’m not gonna be any better!”

“You haven’t even tried!” Sayaka cried out. “Like I said… If there’s anyone here who’s going to understand me, it’s you.”

Mukuro stood up to leave. “I’m gonna have to pass. Sorry!” She awkwardly made a peace sign with one of her hands.

“No!” Sayaka shot up and grabbed Mukuro’s shoulders. Mukuro stiffened and barely restrained the instinctual urge to throw her off.

“Get off of me! What the hell?!” Mukuro hissed.

“I’m scared!”

“Yeah, no duh! So is everyone else!”

“I’m scared I’m going to kill someone!”

Sayaka’s shout was frantic. Her hands trembled against Mukuro’s shoulders.

If she had been anyone else, Sayaka’s confession would have been heartbreaking or disturbing. But Mukuro could only feel bleak satisfaction.

She… still had to say something back, didn’t she.

“Okay.”

Not that.

“Sorry, what?” Sayaka blinked. Her voice was still tearful, but more confused than distressed.

“Uh, I just meant— I don’t…” Mukuro kept talking even though she didn’t know what she was saying. She should probably stop that. “What do you want me to say to that?”

Sayaka stared at her incredulously. “I just confessed I’m thinking about killing someone and that’s your response?”

She was still near hysterical, but at least she seemed more bewildered than suspicious. Mukuro was going to count that as good enough and continue talking.

“Who are you planning to kill?”

Junko was going to be so disappointed in her. She couldn’t even act like her properly long enough for the first murder to happen.

“Makoto.” Sayaka visibly held back a sob. “God, you must think I’m a monster.”

Mukuro felt a slight pang in her heart— of course she didn’t like the idea of Makoto dying. It was Makoto. But she herself had condemned him to die here all the same.

“Don’t kill him. It’ll be too easy for me to connect you to the crime now.”

“Huh…?” Sayaka was more present than before; her gaze focused.

Mukuro decided to pretend everything was normal instead of dealing with the mess of a conversation. She pursed her lips in a Junko-like manner and stared down at Sayaka as condescendingly as possible instead of responding.

Sayaka slowly started giggling. “Junko, what are you doing…?”

“Aren’t you psychic? You tell me!” Mukuro felt a rush of embarrassment. She gripped her tie in lieu of a weapon.

“Oh, I see… You’re secretly Monokuma in disguise.” Sayaka smiled bitterly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be joking around right now. I just… Why aren’t you mad at me? Why aren’t you afraid? Why are you… Doing whatever you’re doing? I can’t even tell if you’re joking or not, and that’s my specialty, you know.”

“I’m not sure what I’m doing either, honestly.” Mukuro admitted. “As for why? I guess you were sort of right when you said we’re similar.” She didn’t know if she really believed that, but it would be nice(?) if it was true. Albeit too silly to say when she wasn’t pretending to be someone else.

Sayaka covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have expected you to solve all my problems.”

“Yeah, well… It’s whatever. You’re forgiven, okay?” Mukuro felt her emotions melt away after such an exhausting confrontation, leaving a sludge of muted, confusing feelings behind.

Sayaka collapsed backwards onto her bed— gracefully, somehow. “What do we do now?”

“I’m not planning on telling anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I know it’s selfish of me to ask after all this, but… Will you be my friend? My real friend. I promise I won’t just rely on you all the time. I want to have someone I can trust, but I want you to be able to trust me too.”

A friend. The best option would be to say no. After all, she was just here to blend in until Junko pretended to lock her up as an example. Then she’d be with her sister, and everything would be fine.

But. Even so.

Talking with Sayaka was different from talking with Makoto. It felt closer to her conversations with Junko, in a way. Sayaka was undoubtedly a better person than Mukuro— but she didn’t think she was. She didn’t shy away from the ugliness of humanity. It was almost ironic, for someone as beautiful as an idol.

Mukuro closed her eyes. It wasn’t being selfish if she said yes, was it? After all, it would make Sayaka’s despair even greater in the end.

“I’ll be your friend, for real. So if I kill someone, it won’t be you!”

Sayaka gave her a queasy smile. “I need to apologize to Makoto.”

“Huh? Are you actually going to tell him?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if I don’t.” Sayaka took a deep breath.

Mukuro watched her collect herself. It looked less like she was pasting fake emotions on her face, like she’d expected, and more like she’d somehow summoned hope from deep inside of her, despite everything.

“Will you come with me?”

“Of course. That’s… What friends do, right?”

Sayaka nodded. “Thank you. For everything.” She reached out with one hand and slowly, gently, cupped Mukuro’s cheek.

Mukuro barely controlled her flinch. Sayaka’s fingers were warm against her skin. She exhaled, melting into the touch. She couldn’t bring herself to meet her eyes, but it didn’t make it feel any less intimate.

“I think you’re the one who gave me hope. Or maybe it’s more like… You helped me give myself hope.”

“Me?” Mukuro couldn’t help herself from responding incredulously. The irony was probably making Junko collapse into a fit of giggles. She felt a guilty sort of thankfulness that she wasn't here to point it out.

“I’m sorry, was that weird?” Sayaka withdrew her hand.

Mukuro impulsively reached out and grabbed it. “No. I don’t think so at all.”

Their fingers intertwined. They were holding hands, Mukuro realized.

The idea of them being friends… And maybe Makoto being their friend, too… It made something bright well up in her chest. Something she wouldn’t allow herself to name, but that’d she cherish anyway. It would be her secret.

“Let’s go right now.” Sayaka said. Her entire body was tensed in determination, like a soldier about to enter a battle they knew they had to win.

Mukuro smiled. “Mmhmm! I think I know just who to set him up with now once we escape.” Sayaka laughed. “You can’t just say things like that… I still don’t know when you’re joking!”

…A little hope would just make despair even more brilliant in the end anyway, wouldn’t it?

#danganronpa #ikuzono #danganronpa au #danganronpa fanfiction #mukuro ikusaba #sayaka maizono #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #trigger happy havoc #dr thh #danganronpa fanfic #dr1 #my writing

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atinybitofau · 4 years

Text

Y E O S A N G ⇾ mafia au

THE ONE WHERE YEOSANG DOESN’T LIKE GOING OUTSIDE

a/n: ver 1 of the mafia series completed. ver 2’s to start soon eeeekkkk

• his friends think he needs to go out more.

• that despite his skills on a computer,

• he should start socializing away from media.

• worried that he’s gotten too consumed by the LED.

• he definitely needs to go out more.

• “Hey Yeosang, I was thinking about watching Jong’s fight this Thursday. Was thinking maybe you wanted to join.”

• he doesn’t face his friend.

• knowing the look of concern he’d see.

• “Nah I’m good.”

• Yunho sighs walking over to his computer chair. “What you up to?”

• “Hongjoong wants me to get him the layout of the enterprise building by tomorrow. So I’m making a route.”

• “Yeosang, don’t you think the world would look much better seeing it person?”

• Yeosang bluntly laughs.

• thinking his friend is too open to cruel society.

• ironic right?

• that he works as a mobster in the dark.

• not wanting to remember his pasts when he was once exposed to the open environment of the world.

• he thinks society’s better through a computer screen than in person.

• “Why do I need to see it when I can see it just fine from here?”

• Yunho leaves shaking his head.

• knowing the mob scene wasn’t something Yeosang wanted to do.

• it was an offer he just couldn’t pass up.

• cause he can use his skills to do good in society—

• albeit not morally right,

• but still.

• bringing down the people he thinks don’t deserve to define society in the first place.

• he thinks that only he understands how ugly the world really is.

• that he doesn’t need to leave the comfort of his isolation to know.

• and the day he’s coordinating from his dark room,

• the day he’s switching from tab to tab on his computer,

• making sure Wooyoung doesn’t hit any red lights,

• and the boys don’t encounter any mishaps,

• he sees you.

• and he’s almost enticed to leave his chair and join the party.

• “Yeosang, where am I going man?” Wooyoung sounds frantic through his in ear. “I’ve got cops up my ass and the enemy tailing my bumper. You gotta make a call.”

• but he can’t.

• he’s on the wrong tab.

• staring at you.

• the LED maybe starting to get to him.

• “The girl.”

• “What fucking girl, Yeo?! Dude, you gotta get me out of here.”

• he thinks he has to.

• of course, it’s his best friend.

• he curses canceling your tab out just for a second.

• “Left.”

• but by the time Wooyoung reaches safety,

• and he’s back on your tab.

• you’re gone.

• “Good job, Yeosang. We got the package.”

• he thinks maybe they did.

• but why did it feel like he didn’t?

• the next days come by and he’s out of it.

• out of his wit searching endless on the internets dark web,

• trying to find you.

• but it’s hard.

• to narrow down a beautiful girl when he can only remember your face 8 bit.

• “Hey, do you have a minute?”

• Yeosang for once,

• snaps around with a heavy heart.

• for once wanting to stand up from his chair and go out.

• to find you.

• cause he knows where you were.

• and he knows he might see you again.

• but he’d have to expose himself.

• he might just not be ready for that.

• so here comes Hongjoong, ready to offer him another thing he can’t pass up.

• “I’ve noticed some discrepancies with your blueprints for tomorrow’s heist.” he sits on the desk, arms crossed, worried now that he sees Yeosang hasn’t slept a blink. “Everything okay?”

• he wants to tell him.

• usually Yeosang’s blunt and careless.

• but he wants to let his feelings out.

• so he can understand why one girl managed to change his mind about staying in a computer chair.

• “Hyung, there’s this girl.” Yeosang starts, blinking under his glasses. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Like... the internet’s great and particularly very easy for me as a hacker. And I’m usually smart enough to find anything on it, my computer screen being my source of the outside.”

• Hongjoong chuckles.

• knowing though he may have took part in raising the orphan he’s always proud of,

• it’s time he started raising himself.

• “And what about this girl makes you want to tell me about it?”

• Yeosang sighs.

• heart on fire.

• your image flashing his mind like the things on his computer he sees 12 hours a day.

• “I want to find her, hyung. But I won’t be able to do it here.”

• “Then you should go. See the outside a little bit and maybe you’ll find her there. You know, the internet doesn’t have all the answers.

• Hongjoong does though.

• because he knows this girl— you.

• knows why you stood out.

• because you were the one girl in Yeosang’s orphanage the day he picked him up.

• the girl who held his hand when Hongjoong found him.

• wonders why Yeosang never remembered it was you.

• “Oh god! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you.”

• he thinks you’re beautiful.

• can’t say the same about the environment around you,

• the weird feeling of unartificial air brushing against his skin.

• but he thinks it’s worth it.

• cause he still gets to see you.

• “That’s okay.” Yeosang mutters like an idiot. “I... I um actually came here to see you.”

• you smile softly,

• blowing your hair out of your face after standing from picking up your things.

• he thinks you look like you came straight of a fantasy film.

• and you think he looks familiar.

• someone you sometimes search the web for not exactly a movie.

• “Oh.” you hold your box to your side, cocking your hip. “In that case, what can I do for you?”

• he’s speechless.

• tongue tied—

• cause when was the last time he talked to a stranger in person before?

• “Sorry this was a mistake.”

• he thinks he’s dumb.

• that if society rejected him before,

• why would it accept him now?

• you want to chase after him.

• but first watch him turn.

• not failing to catch the heart shaped birthmark hidden under his glasses frame.

• “Yeosang?!”

• he stops.

• he blinks seeing white.

• maybe it’s from the LED exposure he gets sitting behind his computer screen all day long,

• but the moment his name escapes your lips,

• he remembers the one person who never rejected him.

• despite being apart of cruel society.

• “Oh my god, it is you.”

• you drop your box and sprint on your heels.

• heart on fire when you see your old childhood flame.

• the one man you thought society deserved more than anyone.

• but he freezes.

• unfamiliar with the feeling of affection.

• only knowing the affection of his keyboard and his mouse.

• “Yeosang, I missed you.”

• years passed.

• YEARS.

• but you didn’t need the internet to remember who this man was.

• “Where did you go? Why did you leave?”

• he stares down at you through his glasses.

• thinking,

• how could he forget that the world up close could be more beautiful than seeing it through a computer screen?

• how could he forget you?

• “Y/n.”

• you smile the biggest smile in the world.

• “You remember.”

• he kisses you.

• because well��

• years away from social interaction kept him from knowing boundaries.

• but that’s okay with you.

• you can read him like an open book.

• that they Yeosang was the same afraid kid he was the day he was abducted from the orphanage.

• the same kid who kissed you whenever he felt scared of the world.

• “You know, this doesn’t make up for you leaving me behind all those years.” you run your thumb against the strange birthmark on his cheek as he stares at you. “But I think you can start with this, sure.”

• he’s bewitched.

• never wanting to stop looking at you.

• maybe the chances of staring at you better than the chances of staring at his computer to fulfill his desires.

• “Do you.. do you want to meet my friends?”

• you giggle,

• feeling bewitched too.

• “Do they treat you better than the world ever could?”

• he wonders why.

• why the internet can’t always explain love the way he needed it too.

• making more sense only because he meets you.

• “Yeah. They do.”

• you giggle again.

• and it’s an audio that he’dvput on repeat even if it killed him and his CPU.

• “Well do you think they’ll mind if we all go out for lunch?”

• you interlace your hands with a man you think only subsided in your memory.

• your gigabytes running so low you almost needed to erase some things.

• but your glad you didn’t.

• wondering what would’ve happened if you stopped searching for Yeosang on the web every now and then.

• cause if you did, maybe you would’ve forget who Yeosang even was.

• “I have this amazing restaurant by the beach. And I think you might find it more beautiful in person than in a plain digital picture I could show you.”

• he’s never been one to think the world was beautiful in person.

• but maybe the world was just beautiful because you were in it.

• and he’d be okay with that.

• —be okay with exposing himself again.

• just to be with you.

• “If it’s as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

@atinybitofau

#yeosang #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #ateez #ateez reactions #ateez preferences #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #yeosang scenarios #yeosang oneshot #yeosang imagines #yeosang reaction #ateez mafia au #yunho #hongjoong #yeosang mafia au

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reylo-solo · 4 years

Note

Ok so Concept/Prompt: Ben and Rey’s baby daughter saying “dada” first?

Okay so I may have written this lil thing sometime after midnight last night. Enjoy!

“Mama. Can you say ‘mama?’ Ma-ma!”

“Mmm-mm—”

“Mama. So close, my love! Come on, say ‘mama!’”

“Mmmm-pbbthhh!”

Rey wrinkled up her nose and swiped the sprayed spittle off of her face with her arm, casting a look of bemused doubt at her daughter’s charming face.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, you know.”

She looked up to see Ben leaning against the doorframe, handsomely arrogant in his repose. He had that smirk on his face—the one that almost always made Rey question whether she wanted to smack him or kiss him in order to remove it. Normally she went for the latter option, but there were times he enjoyed testing her limits on that theory.

Carefully, Rey set their daughter back down onto her play pad. Instantly the infant reached up to grab one of the many plush stars that dangled from the arch of the pad. It jingled and crinkled as she squeezed and shook it in her small but mighty fist. Her chubby legs kicked ferociously with excitement.

“It’s going to be her first word. I know it will be,” Rey argued quietly. She may have been speaking as much to herself as she was to Ben.

“I have to politely, and affectionately, disagree, sweetheart.”

He took a seat on the padded floor beside her, crossing his long legs with ease. Rey watched him for a moment as he smiled down at their child. To see such tender love in his face and to know it was as fierce and everlasting as her own filled her heart with warmth. Their child would never know loneliness, or a life without love.

“And why is that?” She asked, deciding that yes, she loved him enough to take his bait, for the millionth time.

“Because,” he answered simply, “her first word is going to be dada.”

“Like hell it is!” Rey cursed.

Ben raised his eyebrows, staring pointedly in her direction.

“Oh! Sorry—like heck it is,” she corrected herself and gently rubbed the small belly of her daughter. “You didn’t hear that, did you, my little love?”

Their daughter babbled at her toy.

“That will not be her first word!” Rey bantered, pointing her finger at him.

“Oh, but it will be,” He smirked, and kissed the tip of her finger. “Trust me.”

She pulled her hand away and narrowed her eyes at him, though the corners of her mouth fought off a smile.

“She’s been trying to say mama for days now. And in all that time, she hasn’t even said so much as ‘da’, which is a pretty common term for babies,” Rey said matter-of-factly. “So what makes you so confident?”

“Who said anything about plain old confidence?” Ben quipped. “Maybe it’s just an intuition.”

“Well, your intuition is wrong.”

“Is it? I had an intuition about you once, you know. And it turned out to be right, even though you doubted it.”

“That does not apply here! Are you trying to use our love story to win this argument?”

“Depends. Is it working for me or against me?”

“Against you. Very much against you.”

“Damn. I thought it was worth a try.”

“Nothing is, when your argument is just plain old wrong.”

Rey leaned over their daughter and gently tickled the little one’s belly, making her squirm and squeal in delight.

“Yes, Daddy’s wrong, isn’t he? Isn’t he? Yes he is! We know he is!” she cooed.

Ben chuckled—a soft, warm sound that Rey loved, much like the laugh of her daughter. She smiled affectionately at the cherubic face of their wondrous creation.

She felt Ben’s fingers skirt along the side of her throat, pushing her loose hair back to tuck it behind her ear. Goosebumps erupted down her arm and her heart soared in her chest. When he spoke to her, his breath was a warm current that purled along her sensitive skin.

“Shall we make a bet?” He asked temptingly. “Who do you think I can make say daddy first: the baby, or you?”

Heat bloomed in her face and she smacked him playfully in the chest. He made an exaggerated noise of injury and fell backwards, grasping her wrist so he could pull her down onto him.

“Benjamin Solo,” she chastised as she loomed over him. “Resorting to bedroom talk? You must really be nervous.”

“Never.”

“Come, now. Just admit what you already know,” Rey purred. She ducked her head to plant three carefully-placed kisses down his throat to his clavicle. “She will say mama first.”

“Mm...in your dreams,” he sighed happily.

“‘Dada’ isn’t even in her sights yet,” Rey teased, plucking at his loose black sweater. “I’ll have her saying rhinoceros before she ever says ‘dada.’”

“Oh, you’re cruel, woman,” Ben grinned beneath her.

Without warning he grasped her by the waist and pulled her over him as though she weighed hardly a pound more than their baby. She squealed once before she felt the floor at her back and saw Ben looking down at her victoriously. That rogue grin and those dark eyes sent her mind into a tailspin, and she felt inexplicably breathless.

“But I can be cruel, too,” he murmured, ducking down to nip at her ear lobe. “And she will say dada first.”

“She will not say dada!”

With deft fingers she ran her hands up his sides, tickling him so that he squirmed and retracted on instinct, struggling to maintain his hold on her.

“She will!” He argued through tinkling laughter.

“No!”

Back and forth they fought and flirted, rolling on the floor, all while their daughter watched and giggled at their absurdity. She, with the power to end their argument once and for all, stuck her tiny tongue between her lips and blew a loud raspberry between laughs.

When Ben and Rey discovered that they were entertaining their child immensely, they continued their performance with gusto. It went on for several minutes more until finally, when her parents were nearly out of breath, the child blurted out a noise that sounded strangely recognizable.

“Da-da!”

The new parents froze in place and locked eyes with one another.

“Did she just—”

“No...”

“She said ‘dada,’ Rey. Dada.”

“She did not!”

“Oh, but she did!”

Ben practically jumped to get to their baby, happily hoisting her up in the air above his head so that she squealed in delight.

“Dada! You said dada!” He exclaimed.

He hugged her to his chest, where the little baby happily slobbered on his sweater.

He heard some sniffling and quickly turned to look at Rey. She had tears in her eyes and a shaky smile on her face, though it was half-obscured by the hand she had employed to wipe at her nose.

“Rey, are you—are you crying?” He asked worriedly, scooting across the floor to get to her, baby still in hand. “Why are you crying? Is it because she said dada first?”

Rey shook her head hard. “No, no; it’s not that. I’m crying because she just said her first word,” she explained through a bubbling sob. “She said her first word, Ben.”

His expression changed as the weight of it landed on him. This was no longer just playful teasing between two new parents. His daughter had just spoken her first technical word, and it had been his name.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered, holding their baby girl aloft and looking at her like she was glowing from within. “Oh my god.”

Rey couldn’t withhold the laughter that erupted from her chest. It wasn’t what she’d been striving for, but the moment remained perfectly blissful all the same.

As Ben embraced their daughter in a hug, she embraced the both of them. Her family. Her life. Her everything.

#sorry it wont let me put a keep reading break for some reason #reylo fic #my fic #reylo prompt #reylo baby #reylo #long post #reylo fanfic

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

I Am Lost

Masterlist

do i still taste like war?

can you still feel the battles on my skin

stitched across my back

am i still rebuilding

bone by fragile bone?

-what does forgiveness taste like? (r.n.)

It has been three weeks since the end of the Giant war. Three weeks of trying to build some semblance of normal. Of burning flags and wiping tears. Of visiting the medical rooms and silently cursing the gods for their arrogance. Campers wandered around, lost dulled looks in their once bright eyes. The little ones, sheltered by wood nymphs and aging satyrs in that violent week, ran around tugging at each other, and causing small forms of chaos. It was a grace that they had been spared the horrors of war.

Percy Jackson was swinging from the hammock in his cabin, staring at the rolling waves that crashed to the beat of his heart. His mind was faraway, wandering through the clouds, looking for meaning amongst fallen leaves, trying to breathe life into fallen embers.

He thought about seeking out his girlfriend, but a knot formed tight and heavy in his chest. It was a new, unwelcome feeling. The first time he thought it was nerves— not surprising when it came to her. She had always made him a little gooey on the inside, like the thrill of a plunging drop, like something exciting, and unfamiliar. But then he had met her in front of the great hall and those nerves had grown into this unbearable weight, pressing down on his lungs.

She had looked at him and some fleeting shadow brushed past her eyes. It was less than a second, but he had caught it, felt it like ice in his veins. Fear.

He shrugged it off that first time but their interactions since had become choppy, robotic.

He spent more time between his cabin and the training room. Hours upon hours, twirling and stabbing Riptide into dummies. He had only been interrupted twice. Once when a gaggle of children came in to stare. He only noticed because they clapped after he sent a dummy flying across the room.

He had laughed at them and brought them closer so they could learn. Camp activities were not yet restored to the scheduled times so some of the children hadn't any training with the weapons. They gasped and giggled as he helped a little boy shoot a pretend arrow. As he helped little Alec with their wooden dagger.

The second time when a friend had leaned against the doorway, a corded arm held above their face to block the sun streaming in.

"Percy," The voice was low, raspy in it's softness.

He let it wash over him but didn't acknowledge it, instead rolling his shoulders and pounding at the punching bag once more. Sweat dripped down his forehead, catching on his cheekbones.

"Percy!"

He dropped his head back, letting the timbered roof see his smile.

"Need something Grace?"

"You need to take a break."

"I'm not tired. But thank you for the concern."

"Bullshit, you've been at it for two hours."

That startled him, eyes squinting as he checked the clock on the far side of the room. His gaze travelled across the beams and landed on concerned blue eyes.

"I didn't realize it had been that long."

The blonde moved into the room, "You are killing yourself."

He shrugged, pulling off the tape around his hands, "So what?"

Jason's eyes whipped to his, something like devastation on his princely face, "What do you mean?"

His smile was cruel, "Did you come here for any particular reason?"

The blonde made to step forward, but then thought better of it. "I've just come to tell you that we've been summoned to the dining hall and—" He paused, taking a deep breath as if to gather courage, "And to ask if I could join you tomorrow?"

"Here?" He frowned.

"Yes, I could do with some training. Ever since Hera wiped my memories, I've been struggling to refamiliarise myself with the strategies I learnt at SPQR. I was hoping you could teach me?"

He tilted his head, studying his friend, "Sure." He said after a moment, "But only if we can learn a little more about combining our power."

"Why would you want to do that?"

He shrugged, "Call it curiosity."

The Son of Jupiter seemed to think about it for a bit, weighing his options as if life were a sensitive scale. "Deal."

Now he swung from his hammock, striking match sticks against the wood posts, watching as they flared, burned, suffocated. The smoke, he thought, was pretty in its evanesce.

A knock at the door scraped his mind to the present. He debated not answering but where else would he be if not here. So he jumped down and strolled through the cabin.

"Annabeth, hey."

"Percy," She gave a tight-lipped smile, "Can we go for a walk?"

"Uh sure," He disappeared for a moment, grabbing a cap and Riptide from the table.

"So what's up?"

"Percy," She said his name like it exhausted her.

"Are you okay?" He frowned, lifting his hand to feel her forehead.

She sidestepped him, kicking at the ground in false distraction.

"I— we—" She took a deep breath, "Piper and I are going to New Rome for the rest of the summer. Reyna invited us and since we're the only two who haven't gotten the chance to explore, we figured now was a good time to start."

"Oh cool, when do we leave?"

She winced, looked up at him with those swirling grey eyes he had loved like adventure, like hope, like something new.

"No Percy not we. Me and, and Piper. Just us. I think we need some rest. Some time to just be safe and do what we want. We need a break."

"You want a break?" His lungs felt too small, heart stammering like a stick record, mind buried in quicksand.

"Yes," She said it with certainty. As if she had thought about it enough to remove even her own doubt.

"From Camp Half-Blood or from me?"

Her face looked stricken, like she hadn't considered it, like they were one and the same. Maybe they were.

"Both?" She was less certain now, fumbling on loose stones.

"Do you want to break up?" Words were cotton threads sown into his tongue.

"Yes, no, maybe, I don't know!" She cried.

"Annabeth," Anguish was a mercy.

"I think it's best if we go our separate ways, for now anyway."

"What do you mean separate ways?" His throat was adorned with a necklace of rope, "We have been on the same path since we were twelve. We have followed each other into and out of battle. Have taken daggers, swords, curses for each other. We have experienced firsts, seconds, life together."

Her tears were endless, but her expression was without doubt, "I love you. I think a part of me will always love you, but times are changing, and I have to learn who I am without worrying about how to keep myself safe. I have to live Percy. I have been surviving for too long."

He sunk to the grassy hill; his knees too weak to hold him.

"Maybe someday," She started softly, "Maybe someday we will find our way back."

He looked up at her, pain making her blurry, a silhouette, unrecognisable. "I am not lost."

She crouched down, until they were staring into each other. He knew she could see the words written in his eyes, as she always had. For all they struggled with their dyslexia she had always been able to read him like a cherished book.

"I will miss you Percy."

He didn't reply, didn't have the words even if he wanted to. She kissed his cheek, wiped a stray tear and left him on half-blood hill, her blonde curls ruffling in the lowly breeze.

***

A week later Percy was waking before the sun, nightmares and heartache refusing to evict from his body. He scrubbed a hand over his face and slid out of bed. If the day was to start now, without his choice he could at least decide what to do with it.

It was no surprise then that Jason Grace found him in his newfound second home, amongst the ratty dummies, slashing Riptide through their stuffed insides.

"Do you ever sleep?"

He snorted, not faltering as he pretended to dodge and then swiped his sword low.

"Who are you fighting for?"

The questions caught him off guard, stumbling to his knees. Jason was at his side in an instance, supple fingers wrapping under his arms to haul him up. They settled on the bench, backs against the wall, hands flexing and clenching. The quiet was so loud in his head, like a ringing that never stopped.

"I am fighting for myself." He finally exhaled.

"I am fighting because I have been doing it for so long, I do not know any other way."

The Son of Jupiter didn't say anything, didn't even look his way. Percy settled further into his position, content to lapse into silence. His turmoil had been his friend for these long years, and he has learnt its language.

"When I was with Lupa," Jason started, "She used to say a wolf who is separated from the pack is only alone if they do not howl. Mostly it was a lesson for the cubs, so they knew to call if they ever got lost. But I liked it because it reminded me that telling someone you are lost may not make you less lost but will make you less alone. Someone will find their way to you."

They did not speak again, happy to be silent companions.

The day passed by in a blur of preparation. It was already halfway through the summer and as they did each year the Half-Blood Feast would mark the occasion. Percy helped where he could, picking strawberries at the request of Juniper, and pulling his weight in the dining hall by scrubbing at the concrete slabs on which they ate.

By the time night fell his bones were creaking like hollowed stairs. But he was excited. If for nothing else but the sense of routine and joy this festival brought after such horrible events. He tugged on a plain blue t-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. It did not count as dressing up, but it felt nice to put effort into something. Albeit his hair couldn't be tamed, wild curls sticking every which way.

"Percy," A knock sounded at his door.

With a final glance at his appearance he stepped out, taking a deep breath of ocean air.

His heart skipped a beat, skipped two. It wasn't beating at all. Beating too fast to feel. Jason Grace was leaning against a marbled column, a halo of sunshine around his head and a blue shirt making his eyes as bright as the cerulean skies.

"We're matching!"

"The camp store does not have much variety." He grinned, "Although I think I'm pulling it off much better than you Grace."

It was a lie of course, Jason looked ethereal.

"I have to agree," The blonde winked.

Percy laughed, rolling his eyes as they made their way to the dining hall.

"A pity we can't sit together," Jason frowned.

"Maybe Chiron will make an exception today, since it is a special occasion."

"We can ask, the worst he can do is say no."

Minutes later they were seated at the same table while everyone gathered together.

The feast was as glorious as it had always been. Food to feed nations, fill homes, warm bellies. The sounds of laughter were a balm to his soul. He turned to his dinner partner, to see him with a soft smile on his face, eyes bouncing from table to table.

"It's nice isn't it?" He muttered, "To see them happy."

"I don't have the words." Blonde hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. "It has felt like an eternity since we were all together, under the same roof."

They looked at each other then, twin flames dancing in their eyes.

"What do you plan to do after the summer?"

"I want to finish school. Want to finish something that doesn't involve in my death, or that of my friends."

Jason nodded, "It would be nice wouldn't it, to feel not constantly in danger. Although around you that may be a little hard."

"What do you mean?" Percy narrowed his eyes.

"If you were a Disney prince, you'd be Prince Danger."

"You think I could be a Disney prince?" He scrunched his nose teasingly.

"I think you can be a lot of things." That smile was cheeky, wicked.

"Is this the part where you say, 'I can even be your boyfriend'?"

Jason's answering laugh was bright and beautiful.

When dinner was finished and campfire songs had been sung till their throats were raw, the crowd finally dispersed, heading back to cabins for the night. He lost his dinner mate at some point in the singing and his other friends had long since disappeared. He didn't quite feel like tucking himself into a cold bed only for sleep to abandon him. The Son of Poseidon shucked off his shoes, stepping onto the sun-warmed sand and let his feet sink into the world. He walked towards the ocean, along the shoreline; let the water wash over his bared skin.

"Jackson!" A call sounded from faraway.

He stopped, turning to see Jason running towards him and couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips.

"Hey, I wondered where you ran off to?"

"Got pulled away by Nico. He wanted to talk."

"It's nice. That he has you." Percy had been relieved to learn Nico confided in someone. And a part of him had been shamefully grateful it wasn't him. He did not know, was almost one hundred percent certain he wasn't fit to be someone's confidant, or mentor, or whatever it was that he would have become to the younger demigod. He had proved that the big brother role was not for him and he would not disappoint Nico again, or Bianca.

"So," Jason knocked his shoulder lightly, "What's got you lost in thought?"

"Bold of you to assume I think."

The blonde shook his head in amusement, "Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if we weren't demigods?"

He snorted, "More often than is healthy. It's like an obnoxious alarm that goes off at the most inconvenient times. When I'm in battle, just before I fall asleep, when I see my mom after an age, when I saw New Rome, when i—" He glanced at his friend, wishing the moon was brighter so he could see those comforting blue eyes.

"When you what?"

He shook his head, "Doesn't matter."

The Son of Jupiter tugged at his arm, pulled them closer.

"Sometimes I wish I had met certain people in a coffee shop on a winter morning, or at school on the way to class, or just anywhere but in the middle of war and prophecies."

Their foreheads fell together, sharing icy air.

"Wouldn't that have been nice?" He breathed.

"Jason I can't do this right now. I—" He winced, "I loved her."

"But did you?" The blonde muttered, "Really?"

"Yes. I did." His voice was hard with the truth. "You do not get to discredit my love just because the relationship it bloomed in has ended." He pulled away, turning to face the sea.

"You're right." He stepped back, scratched at his neck, "You're right, and I'm sorry."

"Did you ever love Piper?"

"I thought I did. But I don't think I really know what love is."

"Maybe it changes," The Son of Poseidon whispered, "But with her it was adventure."

They sat down on the sand, uncaring of the waves that soaked through their clothes.

"What do you want it to be like next?"

"What do you mean?"

"If it changes, what do you want next?"

"It will feel like home."

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feel199x · 4 years

Text

in love with a ghost; ch. 01- somethings in between

soul eater!au, ghost!au, witch!au, apocalypse!au, gods of olympus!au (YEAH I SAID IT. ALL OF THEM)

MASTERLIST

summary: jisung’s a ghost- well, sort of. it’s not your fault. shenanigans are going on to get back to live!

warning: uhh none except lots of swearing ‘cause reader’s FEISTY!

You remember the night it happened.

And there is nothing, absolutely nothing in this world that you want to remember less. But you can’t. You sit up at night, and you can’t help but remember. And it’s killing you, it’s kill you painfully and slowly and you don’t think you can take it anymore. It doesn’t help that he’s all you have left and that he’s a ghost.

A fucking ghost.

Well, sort of.

“What the fuck was that, _____? You had him!”

But boy, he could still get on your nerves.

“I’d like to see your bitch ass try!”

Your eyes snapped open and you swung your scythe at the demon, and missed. The debris under you flew everywhere as you tried to stabilize yourself for the upcoming attack. Breathing deeply, you stuck your scythe’s staff into the ground and jumped. It was a risky move, you knew, but it was worth a shot. Fate turned to rule in your favor. Your thighs wrapped around the demon’s neck and your scythe turned into a dagger, where you then plunged the blade into the demon’s eye repeatedly. Because of the close proximity, however, the demon pulled at your leg and towards his mouth. In a swift movement, you snapped his neck and used your weapon- which had since turned back into a scythe- to launch yourself off the demon’s back.

The landing was unsuccessful and you rolled on the ground, earning cuts and bruises everywhere. Fuck! Why did you choose to wear a skirt today of all days?

“____, get up! Now’s the perfect time!”

“I know that, Jisung! Just give me a second!”

“You don’t have a second!”

You grumbled a string of curses at him, but got up anyway. It was time for a spell. Spinning your scythe like a baton, you started chanting.

“Fera impurus vis te cadent in gladio et in sæcula fecisti dolorem,” your scythe trembled slightly, a heat climbing up your body, and you felt the light envelop you completely, “nomine terrae et aquae, opiferque mortis visitabo vos!”

The earth beneath you trembled, and you could feel your soul eating you up, but you couldn’t stop- not until he was nothing but demon guts. For Jisung.

“____! Stop! You’re going to destroy everything! He’s dead, ____! He’s dead!”

You stopped suddenly, collapsing on the ground. Demons couldn’t die. You knew that. What Jisung meant was that the demon was efficiently blown up.

You groaned as the smell finally hit you. Demon guts smelled awful. Oh, and all the destruction you meant a bunch of trees uproot themselves and splashed everything everywhere.

“You can unmanifest now, Jisung.”

“No way! What if something happens?”

You shrugged, “I’ll cause the end of the world. Whatever. But I know it’s not your favorite shape to be in.”

The scythe you still somehow had a grip on disappeared, and in its place was a hollow image of Jisung.

“Get up.”

“No.”

“_____, get up.”

“No.”

“_____,” Jisung crouched down, and you knew his hand was on your head even though you couldn’t feel it. “we need to get you home.”

“Home isn’t going anywhere.”

“Pretty soon the cops are going to show up and wonder why a kid is all bruised up and laying in the middle of the wreckage. You got any alibis handy?”

You stuck your middle finger up, but you knew he was right. Hell, you could practically hear the sirens.

“Well, I guess we better get biking.”

“Why don’t you get a car?”

“Because they’re death traps, and they leave you vulnerable.”

“At least you would get places quicker.”

“You are literally a ghost, Jisung. Just, teleport.”

He shrugged, “Then I’d be alone. I’d rather be with you.”

Your face grew hot and you turned away from him, “I’ll think about it. But we can always just bike.”

In the distance, the sound of sirens started to grow louder. “Fuck! Jisung c’mon.”

“I told you!”

You ran towards your bike and scrambled onto it, pedaling as fast as you could. The ride was anything but smooth. Why weren’t you blessed with teleportation powers? All you had were these pesky psychic powers, and they were totally out of control- you couldn’t do anything without destroying the surrounding ecosystem. But damn you if you couldn’t pedal fast. Cops were never good news. Ever.

Fuck!

You forgot to collect the demon’s blood.

Something appeared in the distance and you closed your eyes to better sense it. It was a strange aura, and an entirely odd shaped soul. Oh! Oh. You turned your bike around, but the turn was too sharp and you ended up falling off- further scraping your body. And Jisung, of course, had the audacity to laugh. Somehow, you had the self restraint to ignore him.

God knew you’d be too powerful if you could teleport.

You moved slowly, distributing the weight of your body and listening to the earth. You outstretched your hand, hoping he would get the hint- and he did.

The dagger’s handle filled the grip of your hand and you held it tightly, until you could feel Jisung’s soul latch onto yours. It was like holding his hand again. His soul felt like hot chocolate. You shook your head, trying to clear your mind.

The unidentified object started to move, you could feel the earth underneath you shake slightly- the roots of trees ache slightly, the wild flowers and mushrooms sending out warning signals to you.

You felt it come up, and instinctively, you slashed at it. The smell, however, was familiar. Now, how does that work? How could a demon regenerate that fast? And now his soul- or what would be his soul is all fucked up.

The sirens- siren? There was only one cop car, which was pretty lucky for you. That’s okay, you can multitask.

“_____, this isn’t a good idea. We need to make a break for it.”

“I’ll be fine, Jisung. This isn’t anything we haven’t done before.”

“It’s too much of a risk. I’m unmanifesting.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

Jisung didn’t answer. The demon made a swipe for your leg, and you felt his nails scratch a long line down your leg and then you felt the dagger dissolve. But that’s fine. You could handle yourself.

“Et oblita es qui es. a quo factum est. tibi perdidit.”

The demon, frantic in it’s amnesia, tried to make a pass at you. Too much was going on. You felt like your insides were melting. You turned towards the demon- and you don’t even remember casting a spell- but you felt him explode- the demon blood splattering across your face.

The cop was coming closer, you could feel his footfall in the earth. You didn’t care, and more importantly, you didn’t have time. You could feel the light burning through you, your soul bleeding out. You snapped the necklace that was around your neck, and collected the blood on your face to drop into the vial that was attached to it.

Recklessly, you let the cop watch you. You could feel him stop in his tracks, afraid. He was stunned, and so you just walked past him, limping. You looked at him, looking at you. But you didn’t care. He wasn’t going to do anything. That much you knew.

And Jisung wasn’t having it.

“You could’ve died.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t. I’m powerful enough to keep myself alive. And I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“_____, aren’t you listening? You could’ve died- you’re just getting stronger and you don’t have any control over yourself-.”

“I know! I know, Jisung! But atleast I would’ve ended up with you again! That’s all I want.” you choked on your tears, “I know you’re worried about me. I don’t mean to do it. I just want you back. I just want to be with you again. I don’t care how it happens.”

“Oh, ______.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung. I don’t mean to be an asshole.”

“Hey,” he tried to grab your hand, and you swear you could’ve burst into tears, “we’re gonna figure it out. It’s gonna be okay.”

The rest of the walk was spent in a silence. Finally, you and Jisung got home. And the first thing you wanted to do was eat. Thankful you had stopped bleeding some time ago. Even better, you lived in the absolute middle of nowhere, so no one came across your bloody self. And even if they did, it would just become another one of the forest’s ghost stories.

The reputation helped people keep away.

“Shouldn’t you shower?”

“Nah.”

Jisung had disappeared for a bit as you made your ramen. Well, making was a bit of an exaggeration. All you had to do was boil water. Normally, you would chef it up, but the using of your powers made you feel absolutely exhausted. You sighed, the water in the kettle finally boiling, and began pouring the water into the noodle cup

“_____.”

You jumped, almost spilling the cup all over yourself.

“Yes, Jisung?”

“Can I possess you?”

“For what reason?”

“Oh, I have several. One, I really want some of that ramen you’re eating and two, you love me.”

You sighed, rolling your shoulder and staring at him, “If you do laundry.”

“You’re cruel.”

“And you’re a ghost. Care to spew any other obvious facts?”

He huffed, crossing his arms, “I could do it without your permission, I’m doing it because I’m a nice person.”

“Yeah, you’re a real casper. Very friendly.”

“So,” he dragged his o’s, “is that a yes?”

“Fine.”

Jisung clapped his hands, and sprinted into you. He still had a soul, somehow, and it mixed in with yours. It wasn’t so much an uncomfortable feeling so much as it was plain strange. You could feel your consciousness slipping and you let it. You didn’t mind sharing your consciousness so much. It was comforting, in a sense. You could feel his soul in it’s entirety again. You fell, hitting the floor. You were in the half space again.

Atleast, that’s what you called it. Half conscious, half not. Sharing it, basically. You could still see what was going on, but not in the same way. It was like watching a movie in the theaters, except the screen is small and you’re so far away.

Jisung?

_____, this ramen is so, so good.

I’m glad you like it. I’m gonna let you take control for a while.

Jisung hummed in response.

You walked in the empty space. To anyone else, you think the nothingness would be overwhelming, but to you it was silent. With someone else driving your body, you could organize your thoughts. In the half space, you were truly alone. This was also the time you could plan out spells to help materialize Jisung for good. You breathed deeply, put your index finger and thumb over your nose, and plunged. The water was quite cold, but, at least in your mind, memory was stored in the water.

Turmeric.

Graveyard dirt.

Blood of the assailant.

A vision came to you, suddenly. It was vague and fast, mostly colors that didn’t make sense. And then, it started to clear. It was Jisung. Well- not quite, it was Jisung’s chest you were against. He was crying and breathing hard. You felt your body convulse, white spiking in your vision, and you felt like molten ocean water and tree roots breaking out of you.

Suddenly, you came back to.

You breathed hard.

There are two things that you’ve learned about your visions: one being that there was nothing you could do to change the outcome, and two, that it will always happen. No matter what. You learned those two the day Jisung-

No, you wouldn’t say it. But the vision meant that Jisung would come back to life. That was good. But you couldn’t tell him- not until you were sure of what would lead up to it. You didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Sometimes you wished that you hadn’t quit school. Yeah, maybe they thought you were going to bring about the end of the world and completely isolated you from the rest of the school’s population, but at least they could help you maintain your powers.

You shook your head, floating up in the water.

Jesus, just when you thought things couldn’t get more complicated.

You can have your body back.

I don’t really want to, I kind of like it here.

We don’t really know how this works, ____. We don’t even know how you can still use me as a scyth.

You sighed, Yes, I suppose you’re right.

Getting out of the half space, however, was never as easy as getting into it. You were flung into the real world, your insides being stretched out and then compressed back into your body. Dazed, the realms hadn’t separated yet. The human, the spirit, and the earth realm was all present and it made your brain hurt. Evidently, you had spent too much time in the half space.

Right when you were about to pass out, the door opened, and the cop stood in the door frame.

Damn, could you catch a break?

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