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simplee-dreaming · 3 years ago

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The Runner (Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

A/N: THIS IS MY 50TH FIC WTF!! Ngl I'm not so confident about this one but that's just my anxiety being a demon. I hope you all like it.

Word count: 3823

Summary: With Darren being on the warpath, Chris takes great care of the reader...along with some friends.

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The next day you walked into work with a big smile on your face. Last night you shared food with Chris Evans, watched a film with Chris Evans, got into a tickle fight with Chris Evans and ended up being cuddled by Chris Evans. You were certainly on cloud nine right now.

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” a call came over the radio. You strode into the kitchen to make it but found another runner already on the case.

“Nevermind,” you thought to yourself. There’s no way you were gonna go the whole of today without seeing him anyway.

You turned on your heel to leave but walked straight into Darren.

“Oh, um, sorry, I-I didn’t see you there,” you stuttered.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said, sternly.

“Sorry,” you repeated.

“There’s a mess on the set, you need to clean it up before the next scene begins shooting,” he demanded. You looked at him.

“But, I’m not a cleaner?” You said, puzzled.

“You were perfectly happy to clean the set a few weeks back,” he said.

“Well yeah but-”

“No excuses, clean up that mess now,” he interrupted, marching out of the kitchen. You sighed but decided not to argue.

You went onto the set and helped the cleaners with the mess.

A few hours had passed and you were sitting on set filling out an accident form. Apparently, Sebastian Stan had slipped on set whilst filming and managed to cut his hand. Only a tiny cut, but any accident has to be filed. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to sit with Seb and fill it out but was given the details by his assistant, Jane.

You got up and walked into the set office, where all the paperwork was kept, and filed away the accident form. When you walked back onto the set, Darren was standing there staring at you. He lifted up his hand and ordered you to go over to him. You slowly walked over and stood in front of him.

“So what exactly did you do to clean the set earlier today?” He asked.

“I...I swept up the debris. I just cleared the mess,” you replied.

“You cleaned the floor, didn’t you?”

“I cleared it yeah but I-”

“You cleaned the floor and left it in a slippery state. No wonder Mr Stan slipped over,”

“No, but, I..I just cleared it! I never-”

“He could have broken a bone,”

“I didn’t clean it, I only swept!” You protested. Darren grunted at you and walked off, leaving you feeling deflated.

The rest of the day you were silent. You didn’t dare speak to anyone in case they thought the same as Darren. When your lunch break finally came around, you walked outside to the back of the studios and sat in a quiet corner where all you could hear was the wind sweeping through the trees and the birds singing. You finished your lunch in silence, a single tear escaping from your eye.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” said a familiar voice. You looked up to see Chris walking towards you. A smile involuntarily grew on your lips.

“Oh, hey!” You said, quickly wiping away the tear.

“What’s wrong? Have you been crying?” He asked, sitting on the bench next to you.

“No. No, I’m fine,” you replied.

“You have been crying. What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am, I promise. I’m fine,” you said, a little too quickly. Chris gently put his hand on top of yours.

“What’s happened?” He asked, softly. You looked at him, then looked down and burst into tears. He pulled you in for a tight cuddle.

“It’s all my fault,” you sobbed into his chest.

“What is?” he asked.

“Seb. I made Seb slip. He’s hurt because of me,” you cried.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Chris asked, rubbing your arm.

“I cleaned the set earlier, I must’ve put something down because Seb slipped and cut himself and it’s my fault,”

“Seb didn’t slip?” Chris said, confused.

“What?”

“Seb didn’t slip, he tripped and fell over. That’s how he cut his hand, he grabbed onto a bit of the set for support and caught a sharp edge. He never slipped,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“So...so it wasn’t me?” You asked.

“Of course not, he’s just a clumsy idiot. The floor wasn’t slippery at all. Plus, he’s fine. Just got a big boy plaster on,” he chuckled.

“But...but Darren said-”

“What did Darren say?” Chris asked, more seriously.

“Darren said Seb slipped. And that it was my fault because I cleaned the set earlier but I didn’t remember actually putting any product down to clean and I thought I only swept the set which it seems is all I did and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, breathe. Darren told you this was your fault?” Chris asked. You nodded.

“Right, I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, standing up.

“No no please, he already hates me. If you say something then he’ll know I told on him and he’ll be even worse,” you begged.

“Y/N, he cannot treat you like this,”

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” you lied.

“He made you cry, Y/N. That is not okay. I’m going to speak to him,” Chris said. He walked off and you ran after him. When you turned the corner, you both ran straight into Seb.

“Whoa Speedy Gonzales, slow down!” Seb said, catching you as you tripped over Chris’ foot.

“S-sorry,” you said. You looked up and suddenly registered who was in front of you.

“Oh god. Oh I’m so sorry, Mr Stan, I didn’t mean to-”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay,” Chris said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him and took a few deep breaths.

“Ohh so you’re Y/N. Chris has been telling me all about you, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” Seb said, smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back. He looked at Chris.

“Where are you off to?”

“Going to see my assistant,” Chris said, sternly.

“Ah yes, ‘Divine Darren’,” Seb said, sarcastically. “More like Distasteful Darren.”

“Well, quite. He’s been so unpleasant to Y/N, so I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, he sounded very angry.

“Chris please, it will only make things worse,” you begged. Seb looked at your worried face and looked back at Chris.

“I think she’s right, Chris. At least wait a little bit until you’re calmer. Then I’ll come and back you up,” Seb said. Chris let out a sigh then looked at you. His face softened.

“Okay. But he’s not going to get away with this,” Chris said. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good lad,” Seb said, patting Chris’ shoulder. He then turned to you.

“So, you’re the reason our Chris was so chirpy this morning, eh?” He said. You blushed.

“W-well...I...um…” you stammered. What had Chris told Seb?

“Seb…” Chris warned.

“What? I’ve gotta be polite to your new tickle attacker!” Seb said.

“SEB!” Chris cried.

“Chris told me you used his weakness against him last night. Nice to have you on board Y/N,” Seb winked at you. You let out a nervous giggle, praying that Chris didn’t tell Seb that you shared the same weakness.

“Although, it seems you may struggle more. We can’t have someone who is equally as ticklish on the front line until he’s not strong enough to retaliate,” Seb said. He winked at you again and smirked.

Fuck. He knew.

“Anyway, gotta get ready for my next scene. Catch you both later,” Seb waved goodbye and walked off.

You turned to Chris and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?!” He exclaimed.

“You told him?” You asked.

“Ohh...yeah...yeah I did,” he said, giggling. You punched him again.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I just had a great night last night and couldn’t keep my mouth shut,” he said. You couldn’t help but smile.

“So did I,” you replied. He chuckled and pulled you in for a hug. You relaxed in his arms until he squeezed your side.

“Hey!” You yelped.

“That was for punching me,” he said.

You sighed and walked back into the studios with him, ready to get back to work.

The day finally came to a close. Scenes were wrapping up shooting and members of the crew were packing up to go home. You had purposefully been avoiding Darren all day, terrified of what he may try and do next.

Chris has invited you to his caravan again for another movie night, so you decided to quickly clean up the kitchen area before you clocked out. You took the half-filled jug of coffee out of its hold and turned to pour it down the sink. But, as you turned, someone knocked into the back of you and you dropped the jug which smashed all over the floor.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Yelled Darren from behind you. You swiftly turned around.

No words came out of your mouth, just incoherent babbling.

“Look at what you’ve done! You’ve smashed the bloody jug you blundering idiot!” He yelled. You took a step backwards and slipped slightly on the spilt coffee, you held the kitchen side for support as tears leaked down your face.

“I-I didn’t mean….I never meant to...it was an accident!” You cried.

“You did that on purpose. You’ve been messing about ever since you started here. Have you any idea the damage you’ve caused?!”

You burst into tears, frightened of the man standing before you.

“Hey hey, back off!” A voice said behind Darren. He turned around slightly and there stood Scarlett and Lizzie, both with their arms folded.

“Did you see what she did? She broke the coffee jug!” Darren exclaimed, gesturing at you.

“Then buy another one,” Scarlett said, shrugging.

“Better yet, buy another one secretly and we won’t tell anyone that you purposely fell into her,” Lizzie said.

“What? I never fell into her! Stupid girl tripped over,” he said, a wobble in his voice. Both women titled their heads and raised their eyebrows at the same time.

“She dropped it all by herself! She’s caused nothing but havoc since she started,” he tried to explain but the girls were having none of it.

“Grrr. Out of my way,” Darren huffed. He pushed past Scarlett and Lizzie and marched off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lizzie asked, approaching you. You shook your head and burst into tears. Lizzie drew you in for a hug.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Scarlett asked.

“Y/N,” you responded, quietly.

“Oh goodness, you’re Y/N! Chris has mentioned you a few times today. He’s waiting for you, we'll take you to him,” said Lizzie.

“B-but the mess…” you stammered.

“Leave it, we’ll clean it up,” Scarlett said.

She and Lizzie each put an arm around you and guided you away from the kitchen. Chris was standing at the back of the studios, near the caravan park. His posture straightened up when he saw you, but his face grew more concerned as you approached.

“Oh my god, are you okay Y/N? What happened?” He asked. Scarlett looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

“No. No no. This wasn’t Darren again was it?!” He said, his voice getting louder. “Where is he? I’ll kill him!”

“Chris, he’s probably gone home by now,” Lizzie said. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“That little….he has no right treating you like his,” he said. You tilted your head down. He drew in a deep breath and took you from Scar and Lizzie, wrapping you in a hug.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he said, stroking your hair. You cried into his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

“Tell you what, Seb’s using the green room to relax in for a bit this evening. Shall we go and join him?” He asked.

“Will he mind?” You replied, lifting your head slightly.

“Not at all! We could have a group film night if you’re both up for it too?” Chris asked. Scarlett and Lizzie nodded. Chris put his arm around you and all four of you walked to the green room.

“Knock knock,” said Chris, entering the room. Seb was sat on the sofa, scrolling through Netflix.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Seb asked, turning to greet you all. “Ooh more guests, this is exciting. What’s the occasion?”

“Another incident happened. We thought we could join you and watch a movie together?” Chris said.

“Why of course! The more the merrier!” Seb said. He shuffled up a bit on the sofa and Chris placed you between himself and Seb.

“I’m gonna go grab some food. Do you two mind helping me?” Chris said, gesturing at Lizzie and Scarlett. They both followed him out and into the kitchen area. Coffee and bits of jug were still splattered on the floor so Lizzie bent down to start cleaning it up.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“Y/N was cleaning this area. She went to wash out the coffee jug and Darren purposely bumped into her so she dropped the jug and he had a proper go at her. She was terrified,” Scar informed him. He hung his head.

“I can’t let him get away with treating her like that,” he responded.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Lizzie asked, sweeping the floor.

“I don’t know yet. But he’s not getting away lightly,” Chris said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s just putting on a brave face,” Scarlett said.

Chris, Scarlett and Lizzie finished cleaning the kitchen and grabbed some bags of popcorn to take back to the room. When they returned, they found you leaning forwards with your head in your hands and Seb rubbing your back.

“What’s happened??” Chris asked. He put down the popcorn and sat next to you, putting his arm around you.

“She keeps saying everything that happened today is her fault. I’ve told her it isn’t but she’s pretty shook up,” Seb whispered softly.

“Oh Y/N. Nothing that has happened is your fault! We’ve been through this my lovely,” Chris said, gently.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumbled.

“What? Chris said.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you said, standing up from the sofa and heading for the door. Chris grabbed your arm.

“Whoa whoa whoa, steady on. Where are you going?”

“Darren was right. I have no right being here. I’m just a runner.”

Another tear fell down your face and Chris’ heart broke.

“Y/N, listen to me. Yes, you are a runner but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be here. Runners are an important asset to the studios, how else would I get my coffee?! Besides, you’re not just a runner. You’re incredible. You’re the first non-celebrity that hasn’t treated me like royalty and it’s a breath of fresh air,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“Really?”

“Yes really! Don’t want you bowing down to kiss my feet, they’re not that great,” he said. You gave a shy giggle.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. You happily accepted and relaxed slightly in his arms.

“Now then you, we’re gonna have a great movie night, yes?” He asked, you nodded. “Good, but I want you to be happy before we start. Where’s that smile?”

He had a hint of playfulness in his voice. You knew what was coming but didn’t want to fight it, so you buried your head further into his chest.

“Come on...where is it?” He teased. He started poking up and down your sides and you squirmed.

You murmured a giggle into his chest as he continued to poke you.

“Where’s that smile?” He teased. You giggled louder as the pokes turned into squeezes.

“Chrihihihis!” You squealed, trying to twist out of his grip.

“Where are you going?” He asked, bending his head slightly to look at you. His hands squeezed your sides and tickled your ribs, making you squeal. You put your hands on Chris’ stomach to push him away but decided to tickle his tummy instead.

“Hehey!” He yelped, stepping backwards and releasing you from his grip. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“So that’s how you wanna play…” he said. The playful tone in his voice made you giggle but also kicked in the instinct to turn on your heel and run.

Bad move.

Chris lunged at you, as you turned, and picked you up - spinning you in the air before lying you flat on the sofa. You shrieked.

“No Chris!” You pleaded as he sat next to you, trapping you between him and the back of the sofa. He cackled evilly and started squeezing your sides again. You shrieked and kicked your legs out.

Seb, Lizzie and Scar all shared a smile as they watched Chris tease you.

“Show me that smile,” he teased once more. You were going bright red in the face and tried to bat his hands away, but you couldn’t stop giggling.

“Hey Chris, I think it may be in here,” Seb said. Before you realised what was about to happen, Seb had placed his fingers in the crook of your neck and started wiggling them.

“WAIHIHIHIT! You cried, not expecting Sebastian Stan to join in. You scrunched up your shoulders, trapping his hands in your neck, and shrieked.

“Wow, Chris, you’re right. She’s super ticklish!” He teased. Your face turned ruby red as you twisted and turned on the sofa.

“NOHO I’M NOHOHOT!” You cried.

“Oh yes you are,” Seb said. His hands trailed down to underneath you and started tickling your shoulder blades. The noise you made was different to any other you had ever made before.

“Whoa, I think you found a bad spot,” Chris laughed. He started squeezing and spider tickling your tummy and you let out a scream. You kicked your legs frantically as your arms waved around trying to stop the attacks.

“Girls, we need your help!” Seb said. Scarlett and Lizzie looked at each other and laughed. Scarlett got up and approached you.

She positioned herself next to Chris and gently fluttered her fingers over your kicking feet. No one had you pinned so you were free to twist and kick as much as you liked, but as soon as you twisted from one pair of hands you fell right into another.

“Does this tickle Y/N? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” Chris teased, now spider tickling your waistline.

“STOHOHOHP SAHAHAYING THAT!” You cried.

“Oh but you’re so fun to tease!” Chris said, laughing evilly.

Lizzie looked over at Chris and narrowed her eyes. Then, a thought hit her. She slowly crept up behind Chris before lunging at him, sitting on top of him so he was pinned to the floor. She wasted no time in shoving her hands under his armpits and wiggling her fingers.

“WHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?! AHAHAHAHA!” Chris yelled, taken aback by the sudden attack.

Seb and Scarlett instantly stopped tickling you so you could all watch the action unfold.

“Does this tickle Chris? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” She cooed, repeating his own teases. He thrashed below her and boomed out a laugh. You started giggling too.

“I’ve got him, Y/N. Come and get your own back,” she said, turning her head to wink at you. You jumped off the sofa and basically slid over to him.

“Do any of you know his worst spot?” You asked.

“His ears. Get the spot just behind the right one and flutter your fingers over the top of his left one and you’ll have him a babbling mess below you,” Seb said...a little too quickly.

You grinned at him. Lizzie stopped tickling but kept her hands positioned under his arms. You followed Seb’s instructions and, before you knew it, Chris was a babbling mess on the floor. A mix of squeals, giggles and high pitched laughs came out of him as he twisted his head from side to side. Every time he tried to lift his arms to stop you, Lizzie would tickle his armpits and he’d slam them back down again.

“Cootchie cootchie coo, Chris…” you teased. Your heart did somersaults at the sound of his precious laugh.

All of a sudden, Chris let out a booming laugh and jolted his body. You looked up and found Seb trapping one of Chris’ feet with one hand and using the other to scrape up and down his sole. Seb looked at you.

“His feet are his second worst,” he informed you.

You and Lizzie were too distracted by Seb tickling Chris’ foot that neither of you noticed him lifting up his arms. Because you were sitting right next to him, he managed to grab you and pull you over his torso. He held you close to him as his hand trailed up and down your back and sides. You shrieked loudly and bucked your body.

“CHRIHIHIHIS NOHOHOHO!” You cried.

Seb stopped tickling Chris and instead made a lunge for your foot, trapping it in the same way and raking his fingers up and down it. You burst into a loud laughter.

“Oh dear, we really are trapped now aren’t we?” Scarlett teased. She shoved her hands between you and Chris and started tickling both your tummies at the same time. You both shrieked loudly. Lizzie giggled and decided to join Chris in tickling your sides and back. Chris was giggling below you but you were screaming and shrieking before falling into a silent laughter. You hid your face in Chris’ torso and jolted your whole body. They all took this as the sign to stop.

You lay on top of Chris, getting your breath back. He was still giggling which made you giggle more.

“You okay?” He asked, now stroking your hair. You nodded and placed your head on his chest.

“You passed the initiation,” Seb said. You lifted your head and looked at him, brows furrowed.

“What?” You asked.

“You passed the initiation. You got through our torture without murdering us,” he laughed. You got off of Chris and sat on the floor, still giggling. Chris sat up too.

“You’re officially one of us now. That will never change,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. “And tomorrow, I promise, I will sort out this mess. Darren will never treat you so badly again, I promise.”

“Just don’t ever clean the set again,” Seb teased. You scoffed and playfully punched him, making him laugh.

Seb, Scarlett and Lizzie shuffled forward and all four cast members engulfed you in a massive hug. You felt so safe and secure, all of your worries left you for that evening.

Tomorrow is a new day.

#tickle fic #avengers cast tickle fic

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harryhandstan · 4 years ago

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This is my contribution to @meetmeinfleetwood‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I chose the trope roommates to lovers and the prompt “I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.” This was fun to write thank you for allowing me to participate!

Thank you to my beta readers @tbslenthusiast, @witch-harry, and @sunflowers-styles! Y’all are the best!!

no warnings that I can think of other than alcohol tw // bc of the wine they share!

word count: 2.3k

writing tag | masterlist

It’s 5:45 p.m. when you finally leave work for the day. You should’ve just said to hell with it and went home at 5:30 like you were supposed to, but you were nice enough not to. Too nice you’d been told in the past, but it’s a flaw you’re willing to accept if it gets you a promotion to the position you ultimately dreamed of working when you started there 3 years ago.

After a quick stop to grab a bottle of wine (or two), your car can’t get you home fast enough. It’s Friday and you’re looking forward to spending time doing absolutely nothing for the next two days but curling up in a blanket and watching Christmas movies in the apartment you will essentially be alone in. Your roommate Harry shared the space with you, but kept to himself for the most part. Aside from dinners and movie nights on rare occasions when your schedule lined up, allowing you to spend the evening together.

As if your thoughts summoned him, your phone dinged, indicating a new message. Your eyes dart down to where it sits in the passenger seat, careful to keep your eyes on the car in front of you, waiting patiently for the light to turn red so you can grab your phone to respond.

It’s one simple word, “Home?” so you know he’s either still working or on his own drive home.

Your reply is just as direct, “Not yet. On my way! Movie night?”

The light’s green again so you tuck your phone back into your purse, ignoring the next ding until you arrive home. You’re through the door of your apartment and down the hall before you read his message, “Sure. Chinese or pizza?”

“Chinese! I’ll pick the movie and you pay for dinner?”

“That doesn’t sound fair :(”

“Alright fine, you get home before I’m out of the shower and in my pajamas you can pick the movie..deal?”

“Deal!”

The race is on then, both of you competitive and determined to win. You have a movie in mind that you’ve been dying to watch all day and you don’t want to have to rock-paper-scissors to break the tie like you usually do when the two of you don’t agree on who wins these little games.

You’d already shed most of your layers of clothing easily as you moved through the apartment; your boots kicked off by the door, jacket gone and thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, cardigan pulled from your body and tossed on the bed by the time you made it to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long to strip the rest away and to gather a set of pajamas from your well organized drawer before darting across the hall to the shared bathroom.

You know you have at minimum 45 minutes to be done, an hour if he goes to the better Chinese place a little further across town, which he most likely would. You’d been dreaming of ending your week with a bubble bath, but you don’t take the chance now, just hop under the hot spray of the shower, hoping it will have the same relaxing effect. Your eyes are closed as you tilt your head back to wet your hair while one hand fumbles over the bottles to find your shampoo.

Eyes still closed, you tip the bottle to add a bit to your hand, but you freeze when you open your eyes temporarily to close the bottle and put it back on the shelf. It’s Harry’s shampoo you’ve grabbed instead and for a moment you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how many times you’ve teased him about how expensive his products are. But he would never let you hear the end of it if he came home and you smelled like him. Ultimately you would’ve felt too guilty to waste it, so you work it through and hope he never finds out. Pray that the act washes away just like the suds do when you rinse them from your hair.

By your hopeful calculations, you still have about 10 minutes left before he arrives by the time you're done in the shower. You decide to give him a fair advantage, venturing into the kitchen to decide which bottle of wine would pair best with dinner. When you make your selection, you pour yourself a glass, settling into a comfy spot on the couch. The black remote taunts you from the small wooden coffee, and you grab it. No harm in getting the movie ready while you wait, right?

You’re 2 glasses deep and 20 minutes into the movie when he arrives, a smirk on his face at the sight of you. Your eyes go wide when you see him. You’re not sure why, there had been many nights he’d found you in the same position, but tonight feels different. You gulp down the sip of wine, too tipsy and unaware that you’re staring. Had his dimples always been that prominent when he smiled? Even without your glasses you could spot that grin that stretched a mile wide across his face.

“Haroldddd..you’re home!”

He hated that nickname, had always despised when other people called him that, but falling from your lips it sounds like a prayer and he would gladly change his name to that if he thought it would make you the least bit happy.

“S’pose I lost, huh? Got the food pretty quickly but stopped to get this,” He holds up a bottle of wine, ironically the very same kind that you’re drinking now, “Shoulda known y’would already have some!”

“Oh good, you got some for yourself..this one’s almost empty..”

“M’not that late, am I?” He chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, looking between you and the bottle.

“Hey..it’s a small bottle! This is only my third glass and I’ve barely even touched it.”

“Rough day?” He’s pulling plates down now and retrieving a glass for himself from the cabinet.

“Rough week. Rough few weeks, really.” You take a few more sips as you watch him prepare a plate of food. You figure he’s just making his own, and you wait patiently for him to finish so you won’t be in the way. But when he makes his way around the counter, he’s holding two plates in his hand and wow you want to jump from your spot and kiss him. You restrain yourself, as hard as it may be, and try to focus on the question he’s asking you.

He holds the plates towards the table and then towards where you sit on the couch, silently wanting to know where you’d prefer to enjoy your meal. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to move closer, knowing how much effort it would take to lift yourself from your warm, comfy spot to go eat at the table.

“Emily still on vacation?”

“Yes! And she expects us to do double the work while she’s gone! It’s her 3rd vacation this year. I know she’s the boss but..”

“Doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch to you.” He finishes your sentence for you, brow furrowed, upset at even the idea of someone mistreating you in the slightest.

“Right! Thank you!”

You hold your hand out to accept the plate he’s made for you, “Got our usual, hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was just joking earlier about you paying for all of it. I’ll pay you back for my half.”

He’s already shaking his head no, stuffing a bite of food in his mouth, “It was my turn anyway, r‘member? You paid for those tacos we had last week.”

“Right, I did. Forgot about that.”

You watch him devour a few more bites, your eyes darting from your plate to his, “Yours looks better.”

“Huh?”

Maybe it’s the wine making you more bold, you’d normally never complain, “Your plate it just..looks better than mine. Switch with me.”

“It’s literally the same thing..and I’ve already eaten half the noodles off mine.” He looks mildly annoyed at even the suggestion.

“Don’t care..it looks better. Switch.” You realized just how bratty you sound, so you add a quick, “Please?”

He huffs dramatically, switching the plates and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Happy?”

You return his smile, blissfully unaware of his annoyance in your tipsy state, “Very, thank you.”

You both turn your attention to the tv you realize now you had forgotten to pause, so the movie had progressed further, about 30 minutes in now.

His irritation has already faded when he asks, “What are y’making me watch?”

You start to explain the plot but stop mid-bite of your food, “Wait..have you never seen this movie?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t look familiar.”

“Oh we’re definitely starting it over then!”

“No, ya don’t hafta..”

It’s too late, you’ve already discarded your now mostly empty plate of food, nearly knocking your glass of wine over in your excitement of making him watch one of your favorite movies.

Almost an hour in, you don’t notice that Harry’s eyes have drifted to you. In fact, they’d mostly stayed on you since you’d restarted the movie. Your facial expressions were better to him than any movie; the way your eyes softened at the more heartwarming parts, or when your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and gasped at parts he was certain you had probably seen at least a dozen times before.

You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically and he doesn’t even flinch, just listens intently when you say, “I love this part..this is the moment.”

His eyes temporarily flash back to the tv then, “The moment?”

“Yeah, you know, the moment. Where the guy looks at the girl and realizes he’s in love.” You sigh deeply, “I always wanted someone to look at me like that.”

Oh, you mean like what’s happening now between us? God he hopes for just a glance from you, a chance to show you that you’re living your own moment now if you’d just look at him.

It’s tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he can stop it, his mouth working faster than his brain, but it’s a low enough whisper he thinks maybe you won’t hear.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.”

You do hear him, though you don’t believe it at first. Your hand is still resting over your heart, searching his face for any sign of teasing or dishonesty.

“H..did you just..?”

He’s looking down at his hands, fingers fiddling with one of the rings adorning his fingers, nodding before replying, “I did.”

“How long?”

“Um..since the first week we’ve lived together? That first night we made dinner together and it was a disaster. Thought you were gonna catch the place on fire.” A giggle escapes him at the memory of you, rushing around the kitchen that night, face flushed red and hair a mess.

“That’s my moment? Almost burning our apartment down?”

“That and now, yeah. Just been strugglin’ with the best way to tell you. S’pose the wine’s making me a lil’ more fearless,'' He takes a deep breath, still not able to look at you in case he finds even a hint of rejection on your face, “But I understand if you don’t feel the same..”

“I do.”

His head snaps to look at you then, eyes widening for a second before he composes himself, “Really?”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms across your face at the sight of the thrill in his eyes. There’s a new buzz of elation in the air, but neither of you make a move at first. A pleasant tension fills the space between the two of you.

You break the silence, “So..what do we do now?”

“S’all up to you how fast and how far we take this. M’all in though, ready when you are, love. A cuddle might be nice while we finish the movie, if you’re up f’that.”

“I think I could handle that. I want something else first though.”

He’s trying to read your mind, thinks he knows exactly what it is, but he wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear the words he’s been waiting to hear for what feels like a lifetime now.

“Kiss me, Harry.”

You’ve already turned your body towards him; the movie, the food and the wine all long forgotten. He clears the space between the two of you easily, a hand on the side of your neck to add just enough pressure to pull you towards him.

Your lips crash against his, noses bumping at first but it doesn’t stop you, it only makes you crave him deeper and closer. You press your knees into his thighs, pushing yourself up so that you hover over him, your hair falling around his face. It’s still slightly damp from the shower, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your head now.

There’s a smug look on his face when he pulls away, a hand still placed on your hip to hold you steady. He’s still breathless when he asks, “Did you use my shampoo?”

When you wake up in his bed the next morning, you question if last night was a mistake. You don’t regret it, not for a second, just wonder if maybe things will be different in the morning light.

So when you barely touch the plate of eggs and toast he’s made for you for breakfast, he worries you’re having second thoughts about him, that he’s ruined any friendship you’ve already built by rushing into a relationship.

So when you say, “Did you really mean what you said last night..about loving me?” He visibly relaxes, dropping his shoulders and beaming at you from across his own breakfast plate.

“Oh, darlin’,” He plucks a piece of uneaten toast from your plate, winking at you as he does, “You don’t know the half of it.”

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing

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wincore · 4 years ago

Text

wasted nights | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 5.5k

summary: firstly, you don’t think you should have survived this long. secondly, this might be the zombie apocalypse but your survival doesn’t feel as threatened by zombies as it does by liu yangyang. thirdly, you’ve chosen the worst time to develop a crush.

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, fluff, humour(?)

warnings: mention of injuries & blood, violence (against zombies), dumbassery, do not attempt during an actual zombie apocalypse

song rec(s): wasted nights - one ok rock

a/n: october birthdays get halloween specials~ although this one is just full of unnecessary appearances by cats. also campfires because october campfires hit different. (i’m definitely saying this because i was born in october) also not me writing this as a joke and reaching 5.5k words </3

It’s two hours till sundown.

What would you be doing on a day within the ordinary? Likely getting back from after school activities, chatting with a friend or feeding the stray kittens by the school building, or maybe pretending Liu Yangyang doesn’t exist—the possibilities were endless. Now there’s only one.

“Yangyang,” you call, more worried than not.

On a day out of the ordinary, you wish you hadn’t prayed for your exam to get cancelled the day all of this broke out. You wouldn’t be scavenging like some sort of rodent and you wouldn’t be standing at the gates of an abandoned shrine, though now is undoubtedly a better time to pray. It’s not the best of situations (especially not with a certain little rascal attached to your side).

And understatements are definitely your thing now.

“Yangyang,” you call a little louder this time, eyes shifting around the shrine area.

Should you step in? He asked you to wait, the stone steps now looking a little glum without him skipping over them. The only signs of life you’ve seen around has been a family of raccoons looking rather smug and a single spotted dove preening itself atop a branch. The lack of visibility into the forest surrounding the shrine bothers you, like something could jump out any minute and you suck your teeth, growing annoyed. Where is that boy?

You tap your foot against the ground soundlessly. What if a zombie were to pop out? They might be slow but the sight of them is still gross enough to paralyze you. Yangyang has his baseball bat with him, which leaves you defenseless in terms of weapons. Still, it’s not like the bat would have done you any good. You are, in the truest sense of the word, average at any sort of combat and freezing at the limbs comes to you more naturally. Zombies are not fun; whatever nonsense Yangyang has been trying to explain to you for weeks is optional, as is every other suggestion that comes from his mouth. It’s quiet and quiet, creepy shrines have never been your favourite place in the city.

You hear a low growl behind you, stiffening at the sound. Best case scenario, it’s a big rat. You’d rather not think of the worst case. Eventually, you gather some courage and turn slowly only to jump back with a short scream.

Yangyang takes the old festival mask off to reveal a giant grin on his face, urging you to knock it right off. The anger that follows is natural and he should be used to it by now. Yangyang continues smiling, as if he didn’t just pull your soul right out of your body, and when he opens his mouth to say something, you’re quick to land a swift punch to his gut. He lets out a pained cry, dropping to the ground in a squat.

“Don’t do that,” you seethe. “Why can’t you greet me normally?”

“I’m okay!” He signals a thumbs up while the other hand clutches his stomach.

“I didn’t ask.”

He moves his hand to place it over his chest. “Ow. Oh, and to answer your question, it’s because you don’t want to do my special handshake with me.”

“Hm. Get up. You said there were supplies here. What did you find?”

He pouts, finally getting up. “I can’t believe you’re just using me for supplies.”

You cross your arms. “Just get up already.”

Yangyang springs up despite the (admittedly) strong blow to his stomach and presents to you the plastic bag he’d been holding. In any other circumstances, it would spark some disapproval on your behalf but it turns out, those things do outlive most everything. For a moment, the ridiculous image of pulling a plastic bag over a zombie’s head crosses your mind.

Yangyang finally responds, taking out whatever items he recovered. Not everything is useful however; he’s simply taken to collecting knick-knacks.

“I found toothbrushes! Maybe your breath will stop stinking—”

You raise your clenched fist as a threat.

“—I was kidding. Obviously. You have lovely breath.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to contain your exasperation.

“Also, I found clean water so I filled up some bottles and yeah, I couldn’t find much else but oh! There was this huge cat and I mean huge like a big chonk kinda guy, you know? And I’m sure he was, like, trying to tell me something, like, he kept hissing when I went near him but…”

You wonder if Yangyang ever gets tired from speaking so fast, his words fading out of your comprehension. You shake your head, clearing your throat.

“Can we leave now?”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow, almost smirking as the gears in his head turn.

“You’re not… superstitious, are you?” he asks. “I heard there’s a lot of reported sightings of ghosts here.”

“No,” you blurt, quick to deny. Yangyang might have seen you crying after getting lost in the dark, almost fainting after encountering a zombie for the first time or even in deep sorrow after you lost your friend—but there’s still part of your dignity to protect before you can admit your fear of ghosts. There’s just something about this abandoned shrine; there are no visitors apart from the caretaker and if loneliness is responsible for anything, it’s making lonely things seem a whole lot scarier. You’d rather leave before the sun sets.

Yangyang laughs. “Who do you think would win in a fight? Zombies or ghosts?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s so stupid. Obviously ghosts.”

“No. Okay, maybe. I just think…”

There he goes again.

You wonder if he was always this way—when you passed him by in the hallways, when he shot you a polite smile at club meetings or when you saw him being loud with his friends blocking part of the sidewalk. You’re sure he couldn’t have been entirely sane.

“Oh my god.”

Yangyang’s voice jerks you back to the present. You follow his line of sight to a cardboard box beneath a particularly dense shrub; it's a large one—quite possibly a carton of some commercial product which doesn’t matter anymore. However, it’s not the details of the box itself so much as it is the contents that grab your attention.

You can almost see the sparkle in Yangyang’s eyes as he views the cats huddled together inside the box. They don’t seem to mind each other within their personal space—you count four of them, tightly packed and eyes closed in a late afternoon nap. How the box hasn’t ripped apart yet is quite a mystery, and what’s more troubling is how at ease they seem to be with the entire human race in disarray.

You grab Yangyang by the collar before he can make his way to them.

“Don’t harass them,” you say, massaging your temples. “Jesus, it’s like they’re glued to each other. Do they have to be in the same box?”

“It might just be the last cardboard box left on earth.” Yangyang shrugs.

The cats mind their own business, grooming their fur or closing their eyes in an odd sort of bliss. You wonder what it would be like to be so unbothered by all the chaos. It reminds you of someone.

“Come on,” you urge, thinking back to older times. “Don’t think I forgot how much you used to bother old Louis back then.”

Louis was the university cat, fed with so much love that he eventually started avoiding people like the plague. You wonder how he’s holding up for a brief moment.

“Don’t think I forgot how you were back then too.”

“What do you mean?” you snap, glaring at him.

“You were already a zombie,” he says before engaging in a cheap mimicry of you, drooping his eyelids and taking slow steps muttering, “I… must… maintain… gpa… grr.”

You almost take off your shoe to throw it at him before deciding it’s not worth your time. Ah, if only you had done that during club meetups, perhaps you’d have felt better about him joining. Everyone treated him so differently, and you hate to admit you now understand why.

Everyone loves a good troublemaker.

And there happens to be another thing special about your sole competitor for the debate club’s president position. Apart from his strange antics (charms, he says), even this virus—this fuckall literal killer virus can’t infect him. He’s immune—an occurrence with a possibility lower than you finding him attractive. (There, you said it.)

You look at Yangyang still talking about Louis and a small smile crosses your face. You’d feed your right arm to a zombie before you admitted it but it’s nice having him around. You furrow your brows at the sudden familiar bubbling in your chest and shove it away in a flash before your conscious decides to tell you what it is.

Your heart jumps to your throat when you make eye contact with Yangyang, turning away in a rather awkward manner. Oh, the end of the world does awful things to you.

“Are you listening?” Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, you weren’t listening at all.”

You roll your eyes. “I was distracted.”

“By me?” he offers in a sing-song voice, prompting a smack from you. It’s easier to pretend this way.

Yangyang massages his shoulder with a huff. “Why are you hitting me so much today? I’ve counted like eight and the day’s only just over.”

“Sorry,” you mumble before clearing your throat. “I mean, you’ve also said something annoying, like, more than eight times today.”

“I’m not annoying.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.”

The sun starts to lay in rest by the time you reach the city. Compared to the green, red and yellow of the yet standing shrine, this place is in dull monochrome with the occasional coloured signs that flicker to life. You force yourself to think but have a hard time remembering if it was always this way. Was it any different with the rushing cars or apathetic crowds? You can’t tell. You were part of them, after all.

“Hey, how about a bottle flip challenge but with traffic cones?” Yangyang thinks aloud, walking backwards as you pass by a particularly well-lit alley.

You roll your eyes in response. Is it the lack of people making him that way? Your unflustered companion looks at home among neon lights, all of them seeming to point towards him as an answer to a question you haven’t quite figured out yet.

You glance at the alley just a second longer. The electric lanterns still glow red, and although dim, there are many. The shops almost look like you could enter and be greeted with a crowd of university kids or a group of office workers drinking away in celebration of the weekend. You sigh. It’s most certainly deserted inside; there’s no doubt. At the most, the tables are still arranged neatly and the meat grills aren’t completely rusted. You wonder if it’s a Friday.

There was never much grass in the city but whatever growth there was has withered into a mustard yellow or a lamenting grey. An empty city is hardly appealing, but you can’t deny the ill-favored things you’ve done the past few months in the absence of people—a part of you questioning whether breaking into supermarkets is still against the law when no one’s around to keep it. You smile at the memory of Yangyang pushing you around in a shopping cart, though you’d gotten drunk off the (stolen) liquor prior. The neon lights hanging as a banner over sketchy shops sometimes spark alive before dying down over and over again, and to be fair, you don’t think they ever shined too bright. Ironically, they’re the liveliest thing about the city now.

The sky’s soaked in ink at a time you assume to be around seven in the evening. You walk closer to Yangyang without realizing; it’s not often you’ve been out this late the past few months.

“Hey.” Yangyang snaps you out of your daze. “Be careful.”

The words are strange coming from him but you understand why. You look up ahead with caution and a shiver runs down your spine as you stare at the intersection, a lone, tattered figure droning aimlessly. It’s only one, you tell yourself. And they’re slow.

The memories of your previous encounters send warnings over your skin, shivers begging you to run as fast as you can. You would if it weren’t for Yangyang’s grip on your hand, tugging you forward gently and though it’s something he does every time, you wonder if he knows how you’re really feeling. His footsteps are soundless, with the same red sneakers he’s worn since the beginning of this but something tells you it’s not the shoes that give him a cat’s footfall. The purple lights flicker on and off over the shop on the opposite street, the suddenness of it making you latch onto Yangyang for a short-lived moment. You’re quick to let go, throat too dry to make any sound.

You curve around what would be a straight path, careful not to be in the creature’s line of sight when you cross. The streets seem wider when they’re so empty, and somehow it feels more unlawful this way. Yangyang signals to you to stay closer, and you follow before bumping into his back when he stops abruptly. There’s absolutely no sound, the feeling in your gut much worse than at the shrine.

“Something’s wrong,” Yangyang whispers.

A strangled shriek erupts from your mouth when something launches itself onto the two of you, making you land on your butt. You would’ve placed your hands over your eyes, but you’ve learned how to be less of a coward these past few days.

A shaky breath leaves you. A cat. It was a stray cat. The little asshole looks at you with almost twinkling eyes, tail swishing from side to side before deciding you’re not worth its time. Your shoulders sag, a moment of relief despite your stiff muscles.

“Uh, (name)?”

You look up only for your stomach to fill with dread. The zombie from before is staring directly at the two of you, the same vacant look in its eyes that has haunted you for the entirety of the apocalypse.

“It’s okay, he’s too slow,” Yangyang reminds you, voice barely a whisper as he helps you stand.

“We can just take the other street—it’s a little longer but it’s mostly safe and there’s no way he can—”

Yangyang is interrupted by a sickening growl from behind you and you jump back. There’s another one. And another. You count four more before holding back a swear. Yangyang grabs you by the shoulder and the two of you take a step back, onto the sidewalk. There’s a shop behind you; you read a smeared sign above the plastic door curtains indicating a dumpling place. Even if you were to hide in there, there’s no guarantee you’d be safe.

But if you’ve learned anything in these months, it’s that anything is always better than nothing.

The night has settled in completely, you realize. You’re about to tug Yangyang to the inside as you turn around, only to freeze up in your spot. A pale woman emerges from the store, her makeup still fresh but you know that look, the look in her eyes. How cruel.

“Please,” she mumbles, taking a step towards you and you think you might just cry. It’s not long before she turns, you think with dread.

You stumble back to Yangyang when she emits a blood curdling screech, lunging at you and to either your alarm or worse, relief, Yangyang pushes you back. You watch with wide eyes as the woman sinks her teeth into his arm, nausea growing at the sight of blood. He moves fast though, his arm swinging the baseball bat to meet the woman in the head, hard enough to knock her out. In these few moments, one of the zombies is close enough to reach an arm out towards you and you swear you can hear the horrid sound of his bones cracking when you step back. The longer you remain in this state, the slower you are. You suppose you should take comfort in these words but when you look at it, you still see a man.

Hollow. They’re all hollow.

You take a deep breath.

Just as the thought crosses your head, you see Yangyang swing his bat again, meeting the zombie on the head and much to your wide-eyed horror, the head flies off into the dumpling shop and the body reacts with just about as much confusion as you do. It wildly waves about its hands in the now vacant spot before crumpling onto the road with a quiet realization.

Yangyang makes a face, pressing his knuckle to his mouth to prevent himself from what you presume is gagging. However, when you look closely, he seems to be holding back a laugh instead and very painfully so. You know he has a habit of laughing at the most inappropriate times but this, it really takes the cake.

“Home run?” he suggests, turning to you with a sheepish half-grin. There’s no hint of malice in his voice and you think that it’s probably not that he enjoys swinging his baseball bat at zombies.

“You’re disgusting,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Maybe I should leave you here then.”

You can’t believe he has the gall to be cheeky with blood running down his arm and four of the undead drooling at the sight of you two.

“Do you think we can find ingredients that aren’t stale here? I miss having dumplings.”

“Yangyang.”

“Okay, okay.”

The other ones are still far enough and the two of you take this chance to run off towards the street Yangyang mentioned earlier and safely out of view. You notice him panting heavier than before, and your eyes scan over his arm in worry. The bite is ugly, red with oozing blood, and you hold back the urge to ask him if he’s anaemic.

Yangyang follows your eyes before an ‘ah’ leaves his lips. He spins his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of the wound in the same manner a dog chases after its own tail. He puts the bat down to try and twist his arm to see the injury but you stop him, clicking your tongue at his silly behaviour.

“You’re not twelve, Yangyang,” you scold. “Let’s get back to the hotel first.”

He shrugs, and you think some provoking words are ready to leave his mouth when he simply picks up his bat and walks off. You blink before quickening your steps to catch up with him. The blood dripping down his forearm makes you feel a little unwell but you know better than to touch infections.

It takes around fifteen minutes longer than usual to reach the hotel—Yangyang was right. It is safer here, with no zombies lurking around the corners. He must have been out late when he was scouting, you think with distaste.

You reach the now-rusting gates of your haven without trouble and the moment you reach, Yangyang falls to his knees, heaving a breath he seems to have been holding. You rush to him, eyes frantic when you reach your hand out to him, and he flinches, moving away from you.

“Don’t,” he mutters before getting up. “You turning into a real zombie would be my personal nightmare.”

It’s not enough to curb your worry but you follow him nonetheless, the stupid, wavering grin on his face making you unable to decipher what he’s really feeling.

The familiar smell of honeysuckle washes into you as you pass by the entrance, locking the door behind you as Yangyang falls onto one of the chairs in the lobby. Kunhang happened to be passing by, a muffled swear leaving him when he sees the blood on Yangyang’s arm.

“You didn’t touch him, did you?” he asks, pulling on his gloves to further see the wound. A former med student is the best you have here, and somehow, you’ve never seen him complain about having to take care of someone as bothersome as Yangyang.

You shake your head in reply to Kunhang and watch as he runs from shelf to shelf to procure more bandages than you’ve ever seen in your life. You’ve been seeing an awful lot lately.

“We’re going to run out of bandages in a week if he keeps this up,” Kunhang says with a frown, moving so fast you can barely see his hands. “He’ll be okay, I guess. The virus just makes him dizzy.”

He’s probably thinking the same thing you are. Something serious happening to Yangyang is a little bit of a miracle. Maybe he’ll finally be set right in the head.

Even so, you know Kunhang is worried despite his quick response, his frown lines deepening once he’s done wrapping up. He sighs before waltzing off to discard his gloves.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed by Kunhang; you’ve just seen him do that too many times to count. And of course, it’s mostly Yangyang on the receiving end. They might be good friends but this also happens to be the only time they're serious together. Moreover, Kunhang seems to beat Yangyang in the talking-for-twelve-hours-straight department. You have to admit though, being in charge of first aid for the few people stuck in this hotel is not an easy business.

You take a seat opposite to Yangyang, dozing off in his chair and wonder if you should wipe the drool off his chin. Disgusting, you think to yourself, but another part of you dares to offer the word cute.

The best thing about barricading yourself in a hotel during the apocalypse is not having to worry about beds. There’s at least five hundred rooms in this skyrise, more than enough for, what, sixteen people? The place is so big that you hardly run into the others. The only rule around here is regarding the pantry—to write down who’s taken what on the notepad stuck to one corner. Despite what movies show, people are far more helpful to each other in times of need, more so than usual even. You relax into the chair, the velvet cushion feeling comfortable against your back.

There’s a nice communal feeling in this place.

You frown. It’s not like you can stay here forever.

At the very least, you can pretend each sundown and sunrise is ordinary here. You close your eyes, and slowly, thoughts of why you’re trying so hard to remember life before this drift away.

Yangyang wakes up before you do, grinning like crazy as he shrugs you awake. You stare at him through groggy eyes, untangling your limbs from yourself. The cold seeps into you and you shiver, hugging yourself.

“We found the keys to the lounge,” he rushes, albeit in a gentle voice. “Guess what?”

“Unh?”

“There’s a campfire spot over there! The others already started but I thought I should wake you up.”

It’s just like him to be excited about something like that. You get up nevertheless, Yangyang pulling you through the stairs and onto the only elevator that seems to work around here. There’s quite a few things about this hotel left to be figured out. You’re going to have to start worrying anyway when the power from the generator runs out.

Kunhang and an older man, Mr Kang, are the only ones there once you reach. You had expected it but the lounge is gigantic and a small part of it provides the artificial campfire area. There are paintings of wild animals and trees for children, you assume, on the walls only cut off by a large vent on the ceiling. The fire burns bright over the large circle of soil and firewood, whose authenticity is debatable. You sigh at the warmth, having grown tired of the autumn weather’s mood swings.

Kunhang greets the two of you with a grin before delicately poking Mr Kang to at least acknowledge your presence. It’s funny, the lot of you.

The place is a little small, considering there’s a literal fire in the middle of the room. You almost sit on Yangyang because he shifts too suddenly at Mr Kang’s disapproval of proximity, a small yelp leaving you whereas Yangyang, for the first time, looks like he’d rather die. He mutters an apology, and two of you manage to sit a good two feet apart, sudden awkwardness rising in the air—all of it unnoticed by Mr Kang. You heard he was a banker but if Kunhang and Yangyang had a polar opposite, it would most certainly be him. You can’t even remember the man’s voice.

You think you should say something but Kunhang’s laughter breaks the silence. There’s an unspoken exchange between him and Yangyang, piquing your curiosity though you aren’t sure what you should be asking. You just assume it’s one of their stupid inside jokes.

“I left your gift on your table. You can add it to your dumb shoe collection,” Kunhang tells Yangyang, smiling before standing up to stretch. “I’m going to bed. Mr Kang, won’t you accompany me?”

Mr Kang gets up begrudgingly and you’re about to ask them to stay longer when Kunhang turns to you enthusiastically. “Good night, (name). Don’t have too much fun. Although, I suppose there’s no better time to have too much fun either.”

You watch with furrowed brows as the two disappear into the doorway and down the stairs. You spend a couple of moments in silence before clearing your throat. When it goes unnoticed, you turn to Yangyang despite the warmth on your face.

“It’s not dumb,” he mutters to himself, a little zoned out.

You stare at him for a few moments and the familiar feeling rises in your throat, now with a little voice to accompany it.

Cute.

You cough, distracting yourself with any and all thoughts you would rather have, even of the zombies. Now isn’t the time—or is it the perfect time? You shake your head, calming yourself.

“Does it… hurt?” You ask, eyeing Yangyang’s arm.

He looks up as if broken from a daze, the campfire lights still dazzling in his eyes. You hold back a laugh. He really is a child; if he’s so easily mesmerized by fires, that is.

“Probably not any worse than the lady I whack-a-mole’d. Now that must’ve hurt.” Yangyang puffs his cheek before looking straight at you.

You stare back. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s said.

“What? I feel bad beating the crap out of zombies sometimes,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

You hum in response. The thought of Yangyang developing a conscience is almost as bad as having to think about zombies. Though, you’ll have to admit, it does give you a strange relief. Zombies can’t really feel pain—they are, after all, numb in every possible sense—but some part of you wonders if it’s alright like this. Morals and survival aren’t meant to overlap.

You feel the need to distract yourself with something.

“Hey,” you call, moving closer to Yangyang such that your shoulders almost touch. Before you know it, you brush the hair from his face, trying to style the mess into something more neat—a thing you’ve been wanting to do since the first time you saw him. Every time you’d see the messy mop of hair at an official event of the debate club, you’d have this strong urge and an almost putrid form of annoyance. You still don’t know how he managed to get in.

“You don’t look terrible with parted hair,” you muse. “You could’ve looked more decent at the debates.”

You look down from his hair to see Yangyang frozen, eyes wide as if a deer in the headlights.

“Are- Are you not breathing?” you ask.

Yangyang sucks in a large chunk of air, fast enough to choke on it and break into a coughing fit as he turns away from you. You reach out to pat his back but he waves his hand at you, indicating he’s fine before he can turn to you.

You look at him with no particular emotion, the night breeze having worked its way to you.

“What was that about a gift? Are you and Kunhang getting things for each other without telling me?” you say, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

There's a short pause, filled with the crackling of fire.

“It’s my birthday,” Yangyang says with a small smile as the campfire lights dance across his cheeks.

And yet, the words come out sad as if he’d been waiting for an occasion to tell you. You look at him, eyes widening ever so slightly accompanied by the loss of words and take a sharp breath.

“I’m not going to ask for a gift,” Yangyang teases. “Don’t look so worried.”

You open your mouth and close it again, unable to explain the gentle wash of sadness overcome you when you see just a boy. For all the talking he does, he never asks for much.

“I mean, I- I liked spending the day with you. Why do you look so sad? Did I say something? Again?”

You look over his features, from his brow bone to his wide eyes to his lips and the conclusion arrives as gently as the end of the world. What’s the worst that could happen?

You quickly pull him into a hug, still careful of his injury, and a vaguely embarrassing sound escapes Yangyang, something akin to a sheep’s call. He clears his throat which turns into coughing before he can wrap his arms around you, his breathing soft against your shoulder.

“I’m- I’m alive, you know? I don’t think I’m dying any time soon. I- I can’t even get infected! You know that.”

“That’s not why I’m- I…” You pull back, steeling your eyes so you don’t feel the warmth of embarrassment.

Just like you prepare for debates, you think to yourself. Maybe Yangyang was right about you being a zombie—the way you follow the same drudging formula.

“I like you,” you say, your words more of a strained whisper but they’re out before you know it. You can fake confidence, you tell yourself. It’s horrible timing and spending your (potentially) last days with someone who rejected you is just another way to shoot yourself in the foot.

But part of you has been wanting to do this for so long that you almost don’t mind.

Yangyang sucks in a breath, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he straightens.

“That was- Wow. Okay. I- Uh. Wow.”

You let the heat grow stronger in your cheeks, racking your head for an explanation or even a lie. Maybe you can say it was a mistake.

“I- I meant…” You lose track of your words. You can’t lie.

“I’ve never been confessed to,” he blurts, and if you squint, you swear you can see him blushing.

“Huh?”

Yangyang coughs again, followed by the same embarrassing sound. “That was- That was the first time.”

The silence between you is accompanied by the crackling of fire and the soft path-making of wind. You’re at a loss for words, something that you should be used to by now—they clearly belong to someone else.

“Oh my god, that was so stupid,” he says, pulling a horrified face as he frantically waves his hands about. “I meant to say I like you too but I- I guess I forgot to say it out loud. Ah, crap- I sound even stupider now, don’t I?”

Your lips twitch, trying to contain your smile but you’re seized with uncontrollable laughter anyway. The mortified expression on Yangyang’s face makes you burst into another fit of giggles before you can somewhat compose yourself.

“I think that’s the longest you’ve been quiet for,” you say in between recurring laughter. “Did anyone ever tell you being able to talk fast doesn’t get you ahead in debate clubs?”

Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, I just joined because I thought it’d get on your nerves,” he says, not a hint of jest in his voice.

You straighten away from him, the smile dropping from your face.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and offering no explanation. You huff in exasperation, getting up abruptly to avoid another oncoming headache. It’s a little difficult, considering you have the human version of it right beside you.

“Wait- Where are you going?” Yangyang scrambles up to his feet. “It’s my birthday, you know?”

You turn around and put your hands on your hips, a small smile on your face at the sight of him. “It’s midnight already.”

“Oh. How was I supposed to know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the little rascal is special.

“Hey,” Yangyang calls. “You know, since this is the end of the world and all…”

You stare at him, heartbeat erratic at the lack of distance and despite the fading of teenage fantasies. Yangyang shifts nervously, glancing here and there while simultaneously trying to keep eye contact with you, an action which makes you hold back a chuckle. There’s a particular twinkle in his eyes but he can’t seem to be able to look at you straight.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, finally.

And what a daring end to the world it is.

#yangyang x reader #wayv x reader #cznnet #yangyang scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang imagines #wayv imagines #yangyang fluff #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #moonwrites #if you think the header is stupid thats bcs it is #graphic design is my passion <3 #you can pry the troublemaker x good kid trope out of my cold dead hands :)

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jotaros-left-nut · 4 years ago

Text

Josuke’s little girl

Your daughters name Y/d/n

You checked the house number for the 4th time before, this definitely the higashikata household, you rang the door and waited nervously for someone to open up, “Josuke, see who’s at the door”, you recognised that voice anywhere it was tomoko, I never been so nervous about anything before, I hope he’s happy to me see, after a year of only talking to him on the phone, the door opened it to reveal, your beautiful boyfriend in his school uniform, he has a comb in his left hand, when he saw you he dropped his comb to the floor and pulled you in for a hug, you put one arm around his slim waist, you missed the warmth of his body against yours, he looked down to see a toddler holding your other hand

“Who is this?” You picked her up and placed her on your hip, “This is your daughter Y/d/n”, you say bouncing her on your hip because she was now burying her little face in your T-shirt, she’s shy around new people, “Come in I don’t want her getting cold” he closed the door after the two of you and lead you into the living room, you took a seat on the sofa, he sat down on the seat next to yours, “Can I hold her?” He asked eyeing the little one who was still hiding her face, you nodded your head and picked her up and gave her to her father

He was so gentle when picking her up, He looked at her little face and could immediately see himself, her eyes were closed shut, she was so excitedly see him before, “Y/d/n, open your eyes” you told her in a soft voice, she shook her head no, “Don’t you wanna see what daddy looks like?” You asked the small child, “Daddy?” She whispered very quietly, excited to finally meet him, she slowly opened her eyes to look him, but immediately shut them again, there was a little smile on her face, Josuke smiled at her “Don’t worry, Y/d/n were gonna have plenty of time to get to know each other”, he told his daughter in the softest voice

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” He asked watching the toddler who was playing with his oversized heat pin on his jacket, “When I went to study abroad I didn’t know I was pregnant for a long time, but when I realised, I pankier because, I will sound kinda dumb now that I’m saying It out loud but, I thought I was protecting you, I knew your mum would kill you and I didn’t want you to drop out” It definitely didn’t sound all that smart when you said it out loud “You wanted to protect me? you must have gone through hell all by yourself” he sounded so sympathetic “Don’t worry, I had some family helping me”

“So what made you change your mind and finally tell me?” He concentrated on his daughter making sure she doesn’t fall from his lap “Well I knew I had to tell you eventually and my program ended and” you were caught guard when Tomoko poked her head around the door, “Who was it at the door?” Her hard gaze soften when she saw you, she smiled at you as a hello, you smiled back at her but her eyes went wide when she saw a toddler on her son’s lap, “Whose baby is that?” she asked with worry in her voice, “This is our daughter, Y/d/n”, She picked the toddler up from her son’s arms and examined her, “She's got your blue eyes and her hair is already touching her shoulders she's definitely yours” she placed Y/d/n in your arms, “Mom, can you unfreeze my account so I can pay for baby stuff?” josuke asked his mother, with his hands pressed together in a praying motion

“Look, I have to go work, I’ll unfreeze it on the way and you better pay for baby stuff and only baby stuff, but we will talk about the living arrangements when I get back, For the baby’s sake I’ll call the school and tell them that you won’t be attending for a while, She left the room, you here the door open, JOSUKE!, ARE YOU THERE? He walked into the room. Aren't you coming to school today?, he “Hey Y\n it feels like I haven’t seen you in a while, is this your little sister? She is so cute” he crouched down in front, “This is Y\d\n, my, our daughter” Josuke told his close friend, “Does that mean I’m an uncle?” he sounded so excited “I guess so” Josuke replied to back back, “My...name...is ...Okuyasu, I’m your daddy’s best friend in the wwwhhhhooolllee wiiiddddeeee world” he playfully shook her tiny hands, “But you can just call me, uncle yasu”

“Do need to get some baby stuff?, because There’s a huge box of baby things from when my uh Mr joestar, bought all that stuff for Shizuka, I’ll get it” josuke got up from his chair and walked towards the garage, remember josuke telling me that Shizuka is his adopted sister, you thought to yourself, Okuyasu sat down where josuke was sitting, “Y\n can I hold her?” Okuyasu asked “Of course,” you said, she has to start getting used to being around people, it's better to start early you put Y\d\n to her feet, Okuyasu held his arms out for her, she was hesitant at first but, she slowly walked towards, he picked her up, “I'm gonna be the best uncle ever, he said to her holding the toddler on his hip, Josuke came pushing a pram into the room with 2 cardboard boxes labelled baby stuff resting on it, There are every type of, pacifiers, diaper and baby bottles in these two boxes and here's a pram” You smiled at him, “This is perfect Josuke thank you” you got up from the chair and pulled your boyfriend into a hug, can he be any more perfect? You thought to yourself, you stood up on your tiptoes and kissed his chin, he got the hint and leaned down to kiss you on the lips

The phone rang, Josuke broke the kiss to go answer it, “Hello...Oh hi, Koichi….No me and Okuyasu aren't coming in today….It's because I’m spending time with my….daughter...I know it was a shock too but there's no doubt she's mine... okay I’ll see you after school” he put the phone down, “It was Koichi” he walked back to us in the front room, and sat into the other seat, What are we gonna do about a baby crib?

A couple of hours have passed, You heard a knock at the door, you went to open it revealing, your boyfriend, and your daughter who was peacefully sleeping in his arms, with his free hands he pushing the pram, which contained two huge bags strapped to where the baby would sit and a baby crib box resting on top of it,

You took your daughter, out of his hands, so he can concentrate on getting everything in, “So how as she?” You asked your boyfriend who was pushing the pram behind you, “She was no bother it didn’t take long for her to open up to me, we were best friends in no time” you smiled at that thought, “Did You make sure to feed her and change her diaper?” You asked raising your eyebrow at him, “Of course, like her father she can eat a lot” A huge smile spread on your face, you picked up one of the bags but your boyfriend stopped you, “Let’s go upstairs”

“Okay, Are you sure your gonna be able to manage that?” He picked up the boxed crib and held it above his head, “Of course I can” you picked up the two bags that were heavy but you to managed and followed behind him, “How did the job thing go?” He asked, “It was alright, I must have given out about 30 cv’s, I’m just hoping a get a call soon” you replied dropping the bags as soon as you take one step in

“How did you get the money to afford all of this?” you asked your boyfriend, who Had put the box down and open it, He didn’t even look at the instructions, but begun suddenly, all of the pieces began to move and fit together as it was magic, you watched in amazement, you knew that josuke has a stand that you’ve never seen, but it will still cool to watch things move around, he leaned his body over halfway and pressed his hands at the bottom of it, “You can put her in here now, it’s sturdy”, he moved out the way so you can put your daughter in, she was still peacefully asleep

You turned to look at your boyfriend “I’m curious to know what you bought” you told your boyfriend talking in a hushed tone to not wake your baby, you picked up one of the bags and started looking through it “I bought someee, jackets, trousers, jeans, shorts, shoes, and I restocked some of my favourite hair products he told you “And for our daughter?” You asked your boyfriend hoping he remembered to get some stuff for Y/d/n, “Don't worry Y/n, I should never forget about the little one, there should be some jackets, shoes, skirts, dresses and some baby grows in every colour” you laughed surprised he bought so much stuff for a one year old

It was now nighttime Koichi has now met her, tomoko came back from work and talked to us about our future plans now we have a toddler to look after, now everyone was washed and in bed clothes, You was thinking, You were planning on going home but josuke convinced you to stay, so here you are laying next to him with your head resting on his shoulder “I wish I would have been there when you were pregnant, I would have rubbed your feet back and stomach, you know i would have done all of that for you” you were now gently playing with fingers, “I know, I wasn’t thinking straight I’ve missed you” you turned around so now you was laying on top of him, He started to run circles into your naked thigh,”I’ve missed you too, I missed how soft your skin felt” you later like that until you eventually fell asleep

Your opened your eyes and looked around, for your daughter who was supposed to be in her cot, but she wasn’t there, you panicked and called for your boyfriend but he wasn’t beside you, you got up and ran down the stairs in just his T-shirt that you borrowed from him, you sighed in relief when You saw him sitting there with Y/d/n sitting on his cross legs under a blanket, ”Morning Y/n, hope you slept well” he greeted turning to look at you, Y/d/n turning around to look at too, they looked like twins“I was so scared, I thought she wondered out of her cot”, you walked over to the two of them and picked your daughter up from josuke's lap, “Don’t worry Y/n, she was crying and you was sleeping so I thought that I would sort her out, I picked her up and I noticed that her diaper needed changing, I was so tempted to wake you up when I saw the saw all that crap she produced, but I decided that you not to, it wasn’t that bad, and I feed her but when I went to put her down she didn’t want me to, so me and her have just been hanging out” she smiled at the sight of the two of them she’s already so comfortable with him and it hasn’t even been that long

You join the two of them sitting your daughter in between the both of you, Josuke wrapped the blanket around you but was gentle of the little one, you leaned into your boyfriend and put your head on his shoulder, this couldn’t have ended up any more perfect, you thought to yourself as you watched the colours on the screen

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo meme #diamond is unbreakable #josuke higashikata #jjba #koichi hirose #okuyasu nijimura #tomoko higashikata #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #koichi

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ramp-it-up · 4 years ago

Text

Fresh Squeeze, Chapter 7

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Lots of pics, Cursing, Angsty Angst, Mention of Death, Lots of Plot, Anthony Ramos, Afro Samurai, Clothes altering, SMUT: Fingering, Thumb sucking, Fluff. 18+.

Word Count: 6.6 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal and nursing his broken heart post pandemic.

Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, movie star. They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were chaotic. She knows now that wasn’t love.

Read the Previous Chapter.

--------

Thursday night/Friday, May 6-7, 2023

After Daveed heard what you said, he stood stock still, trying to decide whether or not to go back into your room. He clenched his fists and concentrated intensely to not break the fucking door down. All he needed was for you to call his name…

You stood in the middle of your room, naked except for the towel. You closed your eyes and prayed for strength to not go running after him. You had to stay in control.

But if you saw him turn your door handle, you would fuck him right there on the floor of your room.

After a few minutes, you both turned around and went about your business, Daveed to his room and you to the shower. You thought of Daveed in the shower and fell into bed still thinking of him.

What did you want for your birthday, if not Daveed?

Daveed, alone in his bed, thought of all the feelings involved. He knew you were fragile, but it seemed you were relaxing a bit, deciding to trust him if just a little.

He resolved to give a little bit of chase. You just needed to feel safe and accepted.

You dreamt of each other so deeply that all that was left when you woke up was a wisp of a memory.

------

Daveed did not sleep long. Even though it was after 4 o’clock when he went to sleep, he was up by 10, hard on raging under the sheets.

He’d be damned if he jerked off, but he remembered your voice through the door of the room last night, and he had to strip the sheets away, as he was making a mess at the thought of you.

He decided to go for a run on the beach. He pulled on some basketball shorts and decided to go shirtless, as the temperature outside was already 80 degrees.

Daveed ran with his music blasting in his ears. He played out song lyrics and lined up preparation for upcoming roles. Before he knew it, he was three miles down the beach from the house.

He turned around as the tropical heat and the sun was getting to be a bit much. He went back in and went to his room to shower and put some clothes on. You didn’t know the sight you were missing.

When you woke up at Noon, you pulled on Mark's t-shirt and basketball shorts and made your way to the kitchen which had floor to ceiling windows and glass doors facing the ocean. It was breathtaking. The doors were open and the ocean breeze felt amazing.

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

You turned to see Daveed at the stove, greeting you and smiling.

He was wearing an orange Oakland tank top and some pajama pants slung low on his hips. You smiled at his hair, which was tied up in two curly puffs at the front, with the back down in his wild curls.

Even though it was an odd hairstyle for a grown man, you knew the curl life. And it did not take away from his masculinity.

Not. At. All.

Besides, his curly puffs gave you a place to focus rather than on his well-muscled arms.

Daveed’s hair reminded of when your mom did your hair only to have Dell try to pull your pony tails out as soon as she dismissed you from the kitchen chair.

Ya’ll would get into so much trouble for fighting yet again. The thought gave you a warm feeling at the memory as you smiled wider and patted your own pineappled hair.

‘Damn, her smile is a killer,’ Daveed thought as he watched you look around the kitchen for other signs of life. Now he was glad that he couldn’t sleep, and that he decided to be productive.

He would have the chance to talk to you. As friends. Yeah. He nodded to himself, trying to emphasize that last thought. Friends.

Fuck. He was in serious trouble.

Noticing that you and he were the only two humans in the kitchen and sniffing the air for the delicious smell that was wafting over from the stove, you finally greeted Daveed.

"Good morning, D. Looks like everyone else is still knocked the fuck out.”

Your other four friends were nowhere to be found.

You laughed, yawned and stretched. Daveed turned back to the stove, cursing to himself. You were so damn fine.

“Calm the fuck down boy,” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

You ventured over to see Diggs making French toast and bacon. Your stomach rumbled.

"I said sit down. Sounds like you’re hungry, haha. We gotta feed you. Grab some fruit over there and I'll serve you right up."

You grabbed something and sat down at the bar facing the windows. When Diggs turned to offer you some fresh oj, you didn't notice him watching you eat your banana.

Your lips were a problem for him. When you looked away from the ocean, Daveed turned back to the stove and looked over his shoulder to smile at you.

His smile made you feel some kind of way.

"Why do they call you ‘Smiley?’"

Daveed laughed, a sound that was quite nice.

“Because I started out as a clown. A professional clown.”

You tilted your head, convinced that he was fucking with you. But maybe, he and Rafa always talked about the random shit they did to make money before they made it.

When he winked and turned back to the stove to the food, you just shook your head and ate the rest of your banana, positive that Daveed was fucking with you.

Meanwhile, Diggs was trying to stop himself from thinking about fucking with you. He did not need to watch you eat a banana. He licked his lips as he thought of how your lips tasted.

You smiled at Diggs’ broad back. He seemed different this morning.

He turned to plate some food for you and smiled again, shaking his head.

“Most times it’s a nervous tick.”

You were confused. “What’s a nervous tick?”

“My smile. I'm actually a really shy person. Most times my smile is a defense mechanism.”

You were not sure about all that. Daveed had to know how he affected people.

“I’m not sure I believe that. Man. You are famous for performing in front of hundreds of people a night. You’re on tv, movies, for goodness sake! You do live rap shows with your shirt off. I ain’t boo boo the fool.”

Daveed’s laugh filled the kitchen.

“How many clipping. shows did you watch on YouTube? Or did you only watch the ones where I'm shirtless?”

His look was hungry, and surprised, like he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. Then he barrelled on.

“I am shy, but I get my energy from crowds. I'm an introverted extrovert. Ya feel me?"

You nodded, understanding. You noticed that he was fiddling with the spatula he had in his hand. Uncertain again. He really was awkward. It was sweet. And hot.

Diggs continued.

"When I perform, I'm probably under the influence."

Pause.

"Hold up. What?"

You flashed back to Mark. You couldn’t be around this again. Daveed caught your panicked look.

"Oh, it’s not like that, haha."

That laugh and that smile. It automatically put you at ease.

"It just takes a little. Drink; like last night at Criag’s Adrenaline; when I used to run track. Now it's performing."

Daveed watched you carefully, gauging whether or not to continue. Fuck it, he thought. He felt as comfortable with you as when he first met Rafa.

"You know what the best drug is?"

You cocked your head to the side, intrigued despite yourself. That smile. It was angelic and so opposite of what came out of his mouth next.

"Fucking. You know? When it's that good good. Or even better, that feeling when you haven't smashed, but the sexual tension is everything?"

There was suddenly little air in the room. You had to open your mouth to get oxygen. Oh. You knew the feeling alright. You gulped down your orange juice and continued eating.

"Hard-dick dopamine delivers every time."

He said it so casually. He was playing innocent, but he was going for it.

You choked on your bacon. Daveed came up beside you.

"Raise your arms above your head.”

You turned toward him, held your arms up and he helped you, his hands holding your hands up. You stopped coughing pretty quickly but you stared at each other with your small wrists in his large hands. Daveed shifted on his feet and cleared his throat.

“You good?" His voice had to be a couple of octaves lower.

You gaped for a second, mouth still open, then laughed and nodded, pulling your arms slightly to get him to release them. Daveed let go, stepped back and laughed along.

"But yeah. Back to what we were talking about...It just takes a little high, and I'm a completely different person."

You watched him as he crossed his chocolate arms.

"So what's your drug? Your motivation?"

That was something you didn't want to think about too hard. You tried to avoid his eyes. You cleared your throat and took another drink.

“You got any vodka for this orange juice?”

-------

“C’mon. I made you this gourmet breakfast and everything…” You could hear the smile in his voice even though you were looking down. You didn’t feel pressed, you just felt like telling D this would open up so many things to him.

"Well, I don't do hard drugs if that's what you mean. No pills, or coke. Don't need molly," you winked and filled your mouth with French toast.

"Gosh. This food is amazing!"

Daveed could barely make out the words through the food in your mouth. He shook his head.

"Thanks, but don’t play me Lindy. Is french toast your motivation?"

Diggs wasn't letting you off the hook. You thought about it. He was being very cool, and you felt safe with him. You plunged ahead.

"I think about how fragile life is. How it is not guaranteed from day to day. How it can be taken away in a moment."

You tried to push the emotions down and took a deep breath.

"I lost my twin brother when we were 17 in a car accident. I think a lot about what he didn't get to do. And that motivates me to do better with my life."

Daveed just looked down at the counter, mortified that he had pushed you to share something so personal. Then he finally looked up at you.

"That's a good reason to be motivated. I'm sorry for your loss." He looked down at his plate again. "Look, I didn't mean to press you...."

Telling Daveed about Dell just felt right, even though you really didn’t know him like that.

"Don't apologize. You didn't know. And I'm glad I told you."

Diggs looked up at her and smiled. You smiled back.

He got up and stood next to you to grab your plate. Daveed smelled like coconut. It was nice. You closed your eyes and sniffed him.

"You done?" He was laughing at you.

"What? Oh, yeah. Thanks."

"Where is the fooood?"

Craig padded in the kitchen, with a wide smile.

"There you are." You grinned at your cousin.

"Goood morningggg peopleeeee! I smell the Diggs Special. Hey. You two fuck last night?”

Rafa came in already on one this morning. Unlike his best friend, his confidence seemed to seldom waver.

He ignored your shocked looks and Craig’s laughter and went to get some food. He continued as if he just walked in and said, “Good morning.”

"Ay, D, you gonna go check out this venue in town with me?"

Daveed shook his head at his friend. But he was chilling.

"Sure, what up?"

"I figure we can turn up on stage tonight"

"Cool. Let me eat and chill a little bit before we go." He looked at his watch. "About two?"

"Dope."

Jasmine walked into the kitchen.

“Lindy needs to go shopping. We should come with. You down, Craig?”

“You know it. That reminds me, we gotta fix you up. Start destroying Daveed’s pants, since Lindy won’t do it for real.”

“Y’all gonna get enough…” you were getting swole.

“Calm down Ms. Fussy pants. Let’s go.”

Craig grabbed some shears from the kitchen and went toward Lindy’s room.

When you got to your room, Craig gave you the business.

"You are so tiresome."

“What?”

“You just need to fuck the man. We are all tired of feeling this sexual tension. It’s bothersome.”

“Leave me alone, Craig.” You watched as he worked his magic on the jeans. “What if I don’t want t…”

“Lie.”

“What if I’m not read…”

“Fuck that.”

“What if he hurts me? What if I hurt him?”

Craig put the shears down and turned toward you.

“Listen, stop over thinking and do what you feel. What you want. Turn up. It’s your birthday. Anybody can see that man is all about you.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But you deserve…” He didn’t say it.

“You deserve. Now put these clothes on, bitch.”

-----

You emerged from the room and no one paid any particular attention to you, no one but Daveed.

His eyes swept from your feet, which were housed in some of Jasmine’s high heeled sandals, to your long, brown legs which were highly moisturized and seemed to go on and get better from your juicy calves to your generous, muscular thighs.

Craig had cut and distressed some jeans that Daveed didn't particularly love to garments that he felt he could not live without.

On you.

Damn, Daveed gaped as he remembered that you probably didn’t have any underwear on.

His eyes moved up to notice how his blue Oaklandish t-shirt was huge, but the way you had it tied up let it accentuate your waist, breasts and shoulders.

‘Good God,’ he thought. As his eyes moved up to yours, he saw that you noticed his reaction and were smiling at him. He smiled back. He wanted you to wear nothing but his destroyed and altered clothing for the rest of your life.

“OKAYYYYYYY, you look cute as hell.” Jasmine admired your outfit.

“Thank you!” Craig responded.

“Yes, you did that!” Jas laughed. “And the model ain’t half bad.” Jasmine got up, took your hand and had you twirl.

“Got DAMN!”

Everyone turned and looked at Rafa as he yelled. He put his hand over his mouth. “Oh, did I say that out loud?”

Daveed was so grateful that you did not have any of your own clothes. Your ass in those distressed shorts were everything. He gulped and you and Jasmine giggled.

“Be quiet!”

Anthony shushed everybody and then gave you a double take.

“Nice, Lindy,” but then he turned back to the tv. He was used to Jasmine’s glorious ass, so he was nonplussed.

“Let’s just finish this episode before we go. It’s my favorite,” he said as Jasmine went back over to sit down with him.

Black Dynamite was on the tv while they were waiting. It was the alien episode.

Ant and Jas were curled up in a big white overstuffed chair, Craig was on the other,while Daveed and Rafa were on the couch. You sat down in between them.

You leaned your head on Rafa’s shoulder, looking at Daveed. Rafa put his arm around you, watching the show, as you put your legs up on Digg’s knees.

You didn’t see Rafa wink at Daveed, who just smiled at you and turned toward the screen. After a couple of minutes, he put his hand on your shins, looking over to see if it was okay.

Your chill smile indicated your assent. He started lightly rubbing, looking down at your caramel skin. Your legs were so soft.

Diggs peeked up at you relaxing and accepting his touch, and snuggling into Rafa’s embrace. The way you were looking at him was everything, even if you were in Rafa’s arms.

Rafa was his boy. And he knew what you wanted. As for Daveed and you, you two were watching each other and not the screen.

Daveed decided to move his hand up your leg, but a flash went off and he stopped. He hadn’t noticed that the show was over and that Craig was taking pictures.

"This is so cute! Family love!"

He was cheesing as he snapped a wide-angle selfie and some pics. Jasmine came and sat on your lap, the couch becoming a crazy twister game.

Anthony came behind the couch and snuck in the pics with the crazy eyes flipped a double bird behind Rafa’s head. You were all being so silly.

"What is this, a orgy?” Rafa with the jokes.

“Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with that.” That devilish smile. Everybody laughed.

“Y’all are some beautiful people, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Let's go."

Anthony seemed hype. He slapped his hands together and then rubbed them.

“Okay, we have a choice, since we are going into town we can drive….” he looked around at everyone. “OR, we can go over in my new boat!”

Everyone sensed that there wasn’t really a choice, so they all said, “Boat!” and laughed.

Anthony’s grin was wide as fuck. Jasmine harshed the flow.

“The only thing is, it only has four seats…” Everyone looked around and counted six people. Ant spoke up.

“I’ll be piloting, so I will stand, but it takes about 20-30 minutes, soooooooo…..”

“Sooooooo, Lindy… would you mind sitting on D’s lap? We need to get creative.”

Her eyes sparkled as she smirked.

“Would that be okay with you Diggs?”

Rafa coughed “Setup” into his hand.

You looked at Jasmine and Anthony and Daveed, who was looking at you expectantly. You were in agreement with Rafa, but you weren’t mad. It seemed that everyone was looking at you.

“Sure…” said Daveed whose eyes were fixed on you. “Is that okay with you, Lindy?”

You smiled and nodded your head. “I’m cool with it.” Daveed smiled wide, eyes crinkling with happiness.

Jasmine and Anthony led you all out onto the back deck, where you and Jas took off your heels, and down to the beach, a little ways away to the boat dock. You and Daveed brought up the rear of the little ensemble.

You were watching the waves and the beautiful surroundings, trying not to focus on the awkwardness.

Daveed was watching you.

“You good Lindy?”

Daveed’s voice broke your reverie.

“Yeah.”

You two stopped and looked at each other. Your head was tilted back, looking into D’s eyes. He smiled down at you and you felt warm. Must have been the sun.

“Heyyyy youuu guuuysss!”

Daveed nodded his head toward the boat.

“Leggo.”

You smiled and followed him. Ant was at the helm, Jasmine and Rafa were at the front, and Craig was in the second row.

Daveed stepped on the boat and turned around offering you his hand. You flashed back to that January night.

You swallowed, smiled and tried to board. And immediately fell when you misjudged the deck while stepping on the boat.

Daveed helped you up, chuckling, while Craig howled and Rafa shook his head. Jasmine just stared, open mouthed, said “That’s not funny,” then burst out laughing.

Anthony was busy getting the boat ready but had a grin on his face.

“Fuck all y’all!”

“No, not all of us, just D…”

“Shut the fuck up Craig.” You gave him the gas face and then turned and smiled at Daveed.

Daveed was seated and spread his arms out so you could sit down. Anthony started the engine, so you got settled in on his lap as carefully as you could.

“You okay?” you asked him softly, turning on his lap and feeling the muscles in his thighs. And maybe something else.

You tried to adjust your shorts to cover your core adequately, because like this, he would easily be able to ascertain your situation.

Daveed looked into your eyes and whispered, “I’m perfect.”

You agreed silently as you stared back into his big browns.

You were thrown against Daveed’s chest as the boat gained speed. You were able to feel his abs through his t-shirt and your rear shifted and came into contact with his crotch.

‘This is going to be a fun ride,’ you thought, smiling to yourself.

Daveed put his arms around you, one at your waist and one on your legs, to try and hold you steady. The movement of the boat allowed him to feel you, just as he wanted.

He turned his head and looked at the water, concentrating on keeping his hands in neutral locations.

Jas looked over at you. “You okay?” she mouthed.

You smiled and nodded, giggling a little.

D turned his head back quickly to look at your face. You looked at him and winked. He smiled and unknowingly started stroking your leg.

You stopped laughing and all of your attention turned to his hand on your leg. You adjusted yourself in Daveed’s lap. You were getting a little moist and could feel his cock becoming hard.

Your lips parted and you started breathing a little faster.

The feel of you on his lap was what was up. There was a definite heat from your core. Daveed happened to look down at his t- shirt on you and saw that your nipples were hard.

All he wanted was for them to be in his mouth and to be enveloped in your heat.

Daveed turned his head to look at everyone else to see if they noticed you two, and his lips brushed your shoulder. He heard your sharp intake of breath.

Geez, he felt like he could take you on the boat in front of everyone. By the way your body was reacting, he thought that you would let him.

He finally noticed he was stroking your leg and stopped himself. He sat up straighter and tried to get control.

You closed your eyes and moaned a little when Daveed pulled away. All you wanted at that moment was him inside you. When you opened your eyes, Daveed was looking at you.

“You sure you’re comfortable? I could sit on the boat deck if you want.”

“No!” you said a little too loudly. Craig smirked at you.

You blushed, then relaxed again in D’s arms. How could a moment be so awkward, yet so perfect?.

After about 20 minutes, the view of the pretty little town of Isabela became clear. It looked like a neat spot to spend the day, but you were sad that the boat ride was over.

As the boat came to a stop and tied off at the dock, you and Daveed let everyone get off before them, then D climbed out, turned around and held out his hand for you.

You took it and stepped out onto the dock. You didn’t let go and Daveed didn’t either. No one said anything, just exchanged glances as you and Daveed concentrated on being casual with it.

Truth be told, each of your hearts were pounding in your chest.

This is another world. You could be free and do what you wanted to do. And what you wanted to do was to hold Daveed’s hand.

Daveed’s chest was puffed out, proud that you decided to show affection. In front of the crew.

This was a big step but he tried not to make it a big deal.

You strolled together and admired the architecture, holding his hand until you walked to the shopping center on Barbosa Street.

They were going to check out a venue to do a show later in the weekend. Daveed didn’t want to let you go.

Rafa and Ant just walked on and let Daveed handle his business.

“Go to work.”

You smiling at him was everything, as Daveed played with your hand, moving it up to lace his fingers in yours and press your palm upright.

Jas and Craig went into the store.

“It’s not work. Having fun creating with friends…”

Daveed really wanted to create fun with you. He felt like he should kiss you goodbye, but he didn’t want to push it.

“Bye Daveed. See you in a few.”

You laughed, cause it was like he was going off to war. This was too much.

“Bye Linden…”

He finally let your hand go and then backed up the street in the direction that his bros went, not wanting to let you out of his sight.

When you disappeared into the store, he turned and ran to catch up.

------

Rafa and Anthony were talking to the club owner in Spanish, Daveed following along, but not very well. He thought they were talking about lighting and sound, but couldn’t get the entire conversation.

“Tienes tu propio gaffer o tenemos que hacer nuestra propia iluminación?”

“Nosotros tenemos un capataz, pero él cobra una tarifa separada.”

Daveed zoned out and planned how he was going to get closer to you.

Rafa turned to him and said something, and Daveed nodded.

“Oh, absolutely.”

He had not one clue what was happening in this club right now. His mind was on you. Rafa and Ant looked at each other.

“So, when they bring up the pigs in tutus, we cut one open and smear the blood all over you…”

Anthony wanted to see if Daveed was paying attention.

Daveed smiled. “Sounds dope.”

Rafa and Ant shook their heads at him.

“Listen dude, your head is not in the game right now. You need to get right.”

They didn't have to tell him twice.

------

You were going to town. Craig and Jasmine had abandoned you and were already down at Pinkheart and Loft. You were not moving from H & M.

You didn’t mind being alone in the store, as you minored in shopping in undergrad. You were in the zone. And zoned out from what was happening with Daveed. You needed some headspace.

Your hands were full of clothes and your heart was feeling light as you headed toward the dressing room.

You could barely see over your pile when the cute top you just recently grabbed off a clearance rack fell on the floor as you rushed ahead. You walked past it before you realized, then went back to try and pick it up.

You jumped as soon as you turned around.

Daveed was standing there with your top in his hand.

"Drop something?" That smile was everything.

You stared at him wide-eyed.

‘Fuck. Me.’ Daveed thought.

"Here, let me take your pile, I'll help you to the register."

You smiled at him again. He'd do anything to see that smile forever.

"Oh, ok. Thanks."

You handed over the clothes to reveal a handful of sandals underneath which you kept. Daveed slowed himself to appreciate you fully.

“I really like that shirt on you.” Daveed bit his lip. “And those shorts..”

You saw him checking you out and you watched him, your eyes fixed on his lips.

You recalled the talk about what mouths could do from months ago but were thinking about his succulent lips. And you couldn’t stop.

You needed to remain in control.

"I'm not going to the register, I'm going to try these on. You can drop them at the fitting room."

Daveed looked around to tear his eyes away from you. He caught you checking him out when he swung his eyes back around. His stomach flipped a little.

He smiled.

"Well."

You were at the fitting room, the attendant eyeing Daveed as he gave you a number and pointed you to a stall.

You took the 10 garments you were allowed and started to go into to your fitting room, looking back at him over your shoulder. You disappeared into the room.

Daveed just stood there.

He made a decision.

You stood there for a minute, shook, before you thought you had yourself together. You were about to take off his shirt when Daveed opened the door at came in.

The look on your face was everything. The wide eyes, that mouth in an "O." So damn fuckable.

"The guy out there said I could bring you the rest of your clothes."

That was true, after Daveed paid him 20 dollars.

He got close to you, reached behind you and put the clothes on the hook.

You could smell him. He smelled like the coconut and his cologne, and your dreams. You closed your eyes.

Daveed wanted your lips. He wanted to own them, to command them, to hear them command him.

You opened your eyes and he backed up. He tried to contain himself despite your proximity.

“Look. Daveed. That night. The launch party. I was wasted. I usually don’t lose control like that… I don’t want you to think that’s really me.”

You were keyed up and stressed because you were losing control. He could tell.

God, he wanted to put his hands on you. In a good way. You’d calm down then.

He knew you had baggage. And that he should probably stay away. But he didn't want to. Hell, he had matching luggage.

"Well, I think it is you. I have a theory that people are more their real selves when they are drunk or high. Inhibitions are gone. They get to act out like they want to. Do what they want to."

Daveed looked into your eyes.

"What do you want to do, Lindy?"

You wanted to do a lot of things. To Daveed. In this fitting room. You almost gave it all up for him right there.

Then you got mad. At Daveed or your feelings, you didn’t know.

"That's just it, adults don't get to do what they want to do all the time. It's called adulting, you know. Responsibilities...?"

You fired back at him.

He opened his mouth and spoke. To himself as well as you.

"Chill."

He said it gently, not raising his voice at all, but the force behind it made you shut the fuck up.

Your knees were weak and the small of your back was acting up again. Your body was reacting without your permission. You shivered.

Daveed could tell you were reacting to him physically. But he wanted inside your mind, not just your body. He was going to give you some space.

He backed toward the door of the fitting room. Leaning against it, his long body in jeans and t-shirt delectable.

“What do you want, Linden?”

His voice was deeper, more commanding now. You swallowed. You were exhausted from fighting it. Maybe you could have a taste.

“I-I want a kiss. Just a kiss.”

Daveed felt triumphant. He smiled and looked down at his shoes, then back up at you.

“Come get it.”

He was going to let you make the first move.

You bit your lip through a smile. You walked the five steps toward him in slow motion it seemed, as you raised up on your tiptoes to reach up and peck his lips, your hands behind your back.

Your lips met his pillowy goodness and you leaned back to look into his eyes.

Then, you put your hands on his shirt, tracing his abs all the way up and going back in for more, Daveed’s tongue prodding it’s way between your lips, and your tongue dancing with his.

You moaned as Daveed put his hand on your hips and then slid them up the sides of his shirt, skimming your breasts, and resting under your arms as you two went for it.

He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, as he backed you into the wall.

He palmed your ass in the shorts, his long fingers reaching inside the distressed rips and squeezing your ass. He spread you apart and squeezed you closed, so that his fingers barely grazed your core and drove you crazy.

When you reached up and pulled his hair, that’s when he stopped kissing you, leaned his head against your forehead and breathed, “Fuck, Lindy. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You just looked at him and craned your neck for another kiss which he couldn’t deny, but then he stopped and let you down.

“What do you want Daveed?”

Daveed put his hand on the wall above your head. You looked up at it and at him and he had to remember to breathe.

“Fuck it. Linden, I want you. You know that.”

You raised your eyebrow and smiled up at him, then bit your lip, playful. Daveed’s throat became dry.

“And I think that I know that you want me too. But I know it’s hard.”

Your eyes swept down his torso to his pants, and damn, well…if it wasn’t hard right now.

He cleared his throat. “It’s hard for YOU.” You smiled wide.

He rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean. It’s hard for you to be vulnerable, but Linden, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

The way he looked in your eyes. You couldn’t go there with him, but the physical was okay for now. You decided to indulge yourself. It was almost your birthday.

“What if I want you... to hurt me?”

The innocent look in your eyes masked the devilish intent in your words. Daveed, stomach flipped again and he screwed his eyes shut. He masked a whimper and opened his eyes again.

“Huh. Don’t play with me Linden.” The menacing tone of his voice was making you wet.

“But what if I want to play with you, Daveed?”

You reached for his belt buckle; Daveed stopped you, grabbed your hand and put it above your head against the wall, his arms now caging you in.

You raised your chin, meeting his glare with yours. His eyes were fucking you so rough right now. You had to open your mouth to breathe, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.

Daveed was looking as if he was going to devour you.. That mouth. He wanted to take it, but he restrained himself. He had to know.

“Tell me. What. You. Want.”

You held his stare, the air around you crackling with energy.

“I want you Daveed.”

His smile was wide. Then he bent down, grabbed your thighs in his hand, picked you up and carried you to the mirror and pressing you against it, running his hands back down your body to your ass, cupping and grabbing it to memorize how it felt.

“We are NOT about to do this in the fitting room at H & M. But somebody is going to cum. Right now.”

You kissed him as he ran his hands under your shirt to your nipples, pinching and rolling them in between his fingers as he kissed you again.

You started whimpering in your throat as you let him make you wet.

“God, Daveed.”

You kissed him again, but he did not stop what he was doing to your breasts.

“What?” Daveed asked when you came up for air. “You wet?’

“Fuck yes.”

You moaned as you threw your head back and huffed.

Daveed pulled his shirt up off your waist and exposed your breasts.

“So fucking beautiful.”

His mouth watered at the sight. Daveed licked his lips and leaned toward those beauties.

“Can I?” Daveed paused.

“Please!” You whispered.

He leaned down. His mouth got so close that you could feel his hot breath. Then he paused again.

“Please what?”

At first you could not think of what he was talking about. Then you got it.

“Please. Sir.”

Your eyes sparkled under your lashes as you looked down. His dick got even harder.

“Such a Good Girl for me Linden. Fuck.”

Damn, he had the key to your pussy.

Your wetness was leaking down your thigh, now reaching the tips of Daveed’s fingers.

Daveed proceeded to alternate his attention to each breast. Delicately at first, he kissed your nipples, then suckled them gently, then harder, more insistently, until his mouth was pulling at them rhythmically and firmly, to the point of almost hurting you.

You were groaning pretty loudly and Daveed released a nipple from his tightly clamped lips with an almost painful pop.

“Suck this,” he said, and put his thumb in your mouth, pushing your head back into the mirror.

While still suckling you, he then moved his other hand down your body to your crotch and stuck his hand into the jean shorts, his long fingers grazing your folds, feeling a small patch of hair and your oh so slick lower lips.

He looked up at you and how you were enthusiastically sucking his thumb, fellating it like it could cum down your throat. That sight and feeling, combined with how you felt at your core, was fucking him up.

“Damn, Lindy? All this. For me? You sure?”

You nodded vigorously, his thumb deep in your mouth as he kept you pressed to the mirror. He found your clit and started rubbing, while inserting a finger into you.

You were so fucking tight, it was a stretch to fit two in, but you were humming with pleasure now, your eyes rolling back in your head.

You nodded again, and as he pried your mouth open, your sounds became louder before he put his mouth on yours and kissed you, muffling your moans as his thumb and fingers worked in concert to bring you close to the edge.

You tried to reach for his belt buckle again and he moved out of the way.

“Unh unh, it’s not about me right now.”

Daveed grunted. He spun you around and had you face the mirror, his hand in your mouth and your pants, and his cock pressed into your ass.

It was big and your eyes matched it. You two stared at each other.

“Look at us. Don’t we look good together? This should be a thing.”

You watched what he was doing to you and it did look hot as fuck.

He pressed deeper into you through your pants. He could feel you quiver on his fingers.

“You want it Lindy?”

Daveed could feel your clit harden and vibrate like a guitar string.

“Maybe later, but you could cum… not now…”

You whimpered around his thumb, but he sped up.

“Not now��”

You were almost crying now. Daveed was smiling, his teeth bared against the shell of your ear, whispering his commands to you.

“NNNNot now….”

Your legs were shaking from holding it.

“Good girl. Now cum.”

Daveed spoke into your ear and you exploded from the inside out. It had been months since anyone else made you cum.

He reached down and grabbed you under your knees and sat down with you on the fitting room bench. You were draped around him like a vine, exhausted.

D held you for a few, taking care of you and waiting for his hard on to go down. You clung to him, eyes closed, trying not to panic. This was good. You wanted this. And you told him so.

“Me too, Lindy.”

He helped you stand and stood himself, standing behind you and watching you straighten yourself out in the mirror. He pulled you back against him, wrapping his arms around your front and putting his chin next to your forehead.

“I meant what I said, Linden. We look good together. Let this be a thing.”

You just smiled at him as you thought about the weekend to come.

-------

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 11 ~One More Day~ The Final Chapter

Previously in Who the Hell is Harry? ...

They lay there like that for a long while, listening to the fireworks subside until only a few isolated booms from a distance could be heard. Their breathing and heartbeats harmonised, bodies interlocking to fit each other. Finally, Jamie eased himself off Claire, kissing her lips tenderly before disposing of the condom.

Moments later, when he returned, she was on her side, watching him with a satisfied smile. "Happy New Year," she said hoarsely.

Jamie got into bed, pulled her into his chest, and bit her earlobe. "Happy New Year to ye tae. That was the best New Year firework display I've ever seen."

She laughed and slid an arm across his waist. Nuzzling her nose on the hollow of his throat, he felt her smile against his skin, but her hold on him remained only for a few seconds before she passed out cold.

Not wanting to disturb the perfection of the moment, he gathered her closer and whispered, "I love you," into her hair, hoping and praying that the New Year will bring them together for good.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

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Laughing, Jamie and Willie noisily strode in from the kitchen backdoor at ten in the morning with Rollo in tow. They found Annalise and Claire making shortcrust pastry for the Cornish pasties and preparing sandwiches for lunch. Apparently, the boys were expecting a few of their mates to come over and help with a project.

With no forecast of rain for the whole week, the brothers had decided to knock down Jamie's old shed and build a new and bigger one. A day ago they'd torn it down, cleared the debris, levelled the ground for the extension, laid down some slabs for support and poured the cement for the foundation. This morning, they've completed the base and put up the wall frames, including the waterproof sheeting.

"Good morning, ladies." The brothers said simultaneously, making the girls smile in acknowledgement. Willie gestured for Annalise to follow him, leaving Jamie and Claire alone.

Jamie washed his hands, made himself a coffee and came around to where she was stood dropping cubed butter into the flour. "Have ye seen our progress with the new shed yet?" he asked. But before she could reply, he leaned in and gave her a swift kiss on the lips, making her knock the carton of milk over.

Claire gasped, and Jamie grinned with triumph for catching her off guard. He brought his cup up to his smiling lips and winked.

"I have," she laughed, picking up the milk and wiping the countertop. "Are you sure, it's a shed you're making out there and not a small house?"

He leaned back against the counter and smiled. He'd taken off his jumper and was now only wearing a white long-sleeved t-shirt that stretched across his chest, showing the definitions of his toned muscles and broad shoulders. His eyes gleamed in the soft morning light, and Claire thought of how handsome he looked, making her heart pick up a little.

"It's a shed, but I thought while I'm in the process of restoring it, it would be a brilliant idea to build an additional extension for when ye come over for a visit, and ye wish to write. I'll have a huge window facing the field so ye can look out when ye need an inspiration. It's a grand view overlooking the greens. I'll even soundproof it for ye, so ye willnae be distracted by outside noise."

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. These past few days, she started to notice a lot of new items cropping up in Jamie's cottage. There were a couple of floral throw cushions she'd never seen before. And after Annalise had casually mentioned how much Claire missed her mermaid blanket, a handmade crochet mermaid tail blanket had shown up one night on his sofa while watching a movie. His cupboard was now fully stocked with her evening herbals such as chamomile, Valerian root and lemon balm tea. There was even a pair of soft fluffy memory foam slippers, waiting for her whenever she stayed over. Somehow, she was sensing a sense of permanency and more and more each day, she was starting to feel she belonged to him and his home.

Claire tried not to examine it too deeply and focused more on enjoying the moment, but it was getting harder. Because as each day slowly neared to her departure date, the hollow in the pit of her stomach became wider. And tonight was her last night with Jamie.

"Well, I suppose I won't see the finished product until I come over for a visit," she said with a little sadness in her voice.

Sensing the shift in mood, Jamie put down his cup and closed in on her, his fingers coasting past her jaw into the back of her neck, gently urging her in. He stilled for a moment, smiling an inch from her lips, as she inhaled him, his masculine smell, the coffee on his breath, the faint intoxicating scent of his aftershave mixed with sweat. Then he closed his eyes and kissed her.

"What do ye want to do on yer last night? Fancy going out?" he breathed against her mouth.

She swallowed and shook her head. "Shall we stay in?"

He cupped her face, opened his eyes and held hers with his. "I was hoping ye would say that."

"You don't want to say goodbye to Annalise? It's her last day, too," she half-teased.

"I think she'd want to spend her last night with Willie," he said seriously this time. He glanced down at her lips. "As I do with ye. But I want to spend the evening, not saying goodbye but making memories." He looked back up at her. "Memories that will bring ye back to me sooner."

Her heart pounded. She knew what Jamie was trying to say to her.

She smiled at him. "I'd like that too, Jamie."

"Good, that's settled then."

..........

When Claire and Annalise brought out the Cornish pasties, sausage rolls and sandwiches for lunch, they arranged them on a makeshift buffet made out of wooden planks so the men could help themselves. Although it was in the middle of winter, the sun was out, and it was a lovely day to sit outdoors and soak up the heat. The hungry men descended on the food and sat on the benches Willie had earlier put out. Jamie filled his plate and grabbed a can of cider, and they sat on a thick blanket-covered ground, away from the rest, making sure the sun was on them since it was very chilly in the shade.

"The shed is going to be massive," she observed, her chin in her hand.

"That's the plan," he said, smiling at her, taking a huge bite of the Cornish pasty and humming in his throat to let her know how much he was enjoying his food. "Once the exterior is done, I'll send ye some photos, and then ye can tell me what colour ye want yer writing studio to be painted in."

Claire looked at him for the longest time and then sighed. "Why are you doing all this, Jamie? It's not like we've known each other for a long time."

"But it feels like we've known each other for a long time. Ye know it too." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "And if ye dinnae like the wee studio, I can always turn it into a workshop."

She smiled. "At least allow me to put some money into it."

He shook his head. "Dinnae fash. Most of the woods we're using are from work, and I got the rest of the stuff from the reclamation yard," he explained with the eagerness of a young boy, his eyes all lit up.

She wanted to kiss him right there and then, and realised how much she would miss this place, especially him. He looked so rugged and at peace with his surrounding and very much part of it. And knowing that he wanted her to be part of his world, made her even more determined to wrap up her work in London as soon as possible and start that writing career she'd always dreamed of. Although a little niggling voice in her head was telling her to slow things down, she dismissed it, knowing that for once, her life had a direction she could look forward to.

She noticed, he hadn't put back his jumper on and was only wearing that long-sleeved shirt.

"Aren't you cold?"

He shrugged. "Here in the sun ...no' at all."

"I'm sat in the sun with you, but I can still feel the chill. Even after working all morning next to the oven, I could not for the life of me just wear a thin shirt like that in this Highland weather. Are you sure you're warm enough?" She frowned, looking over him.

"I am. Do ye want to sit on my lap so I can warm ye up? I have a few ideas on how to quickly achieve that." His eyes gleamed.

She crumpled a paper napkin and threw it at him. He laughed out loud, making the group of men look their way.

The sun rose higher, and the sky was cloudless, a rarity at this time of the year. Somewhere on a speaker played a Simple Minds song Don't You Forget About Me, and Rollo and another dog ran back and forth in the open field.

"I have something to ask you," she said, plucking a weed from the ground and watching the dogs frolic. "At the risk of sounding clingy and needy, I want to know if you've had a lot of girlfriends ...or say, sexual partners." She shrugged and looked down at her hand. "I-I can't help but wonder ...well, you know, not that I have anybody else to compare you to, but I must say you sort of know things, like when we touch and love each other. And you seem to be good at it. So I figured that maybe you've had a lot of experience." Her eyes suddenly widened when she realised what just came out of her mouth. She waved a hand. "I mean, I'm no prude or anything, and I understand a lot of people are early bloomers and have had a lot of sexual partners. I-I just wanted to understand ...if it comes naturally to you."

He grinned at her over his sausage roll as if he was pleased to hear the possessiveness in her tone. "I'm thirty years old, Sassenach, and in as much as I would have loved the idea of ye being my first, I must admit I didnae live the life of a monk. So aye, probably ye can call it that ... experience. But if ye must know, I've never been drawn to anyone like I am with ye."

She cleared her throat. "Fair enough, and since we're sharing our thoughts, I want you to know, I feel the same way." She bit her lower lip and thought over the words she wanted to say. "You kissing me on a first date, making love to me on our second, running after me at the airport on the third day. Very rash, I'd say."

"Only with ye." He laughed.

He slugged the last of his drink, and she got up and grabbed him another cider. "How about your ex-fiancee? Any lingering feelings for her still floating around in the ether?" She asked, sitting back down in front of him.

Looking at her straight in the eyes, he took her hand and rubbed the inside of her wrist. "I will always care for her, Sassenach. But what I feel for her is nothing more than friendship. She's about to be married, and she wants me to be the godfather of Simon's child. And if ye must know, I'm thrilled she's found somebody to share her life. I think Simon would have wanted that for her too as do I ...someone who will take care of her and their child." He twined their fingers together. "What we have between us is rare. Like what ye said, I was rash, but that's ever since meeting ye. Somehow I've lost the ability to guard myself. When it comes to ye, I lose all perspective and control. It's chaotic and scary at the same time, but I wouldnae wish it to be any other way."

She gave him a smile. "Sweet and convincing as you sound right now, I'm still not allowing you to come to London and visit me. It's too risky. I want you to get better first, and one day you will. I believe that."

"I believe that too."

They stared at each other for a while, their surrounding fading into a haze, and it felt like there were only the two of them left. Until the dogs' barking reminded Claire, they weren't alone. "Right now, I would like to kiss you," she said softly. "But I don't know what I feel about people watching us."

A gradual grin crept across his face as he let go of her hand. "Weel, I dinnae see how I cannot oblige ye. Just close yer eyes and dinnae mind them lads."

Smiling, he leaned in close and brushed his lips on the corner of her mouth. When she thought they were done and started to pull away, he caught her lower lip with his teeth, keeping her still. After a few heartbeats, they began to kiss, achingly slow and gentle, his tongue probing into her to tease, taste and mate.

The cheers, sallies and whistles from the men nearby kicked-off almost instantly, and even Rollo started to howl in unison. Intent only on each other, they ignored the raucous banter in the background and continued to kiss.

"Ye ken I'm gonnae get a lot of pelters for this," he murmured against her smiling lips, his eyes closed.

"Well, you might as well make it worth your while."

His chest rumbled with laughter, as he kissed her again, causing more cheers to intensify, utterly oblivious to their surroundings.

"Ah, here's my not so wee brother!" a voice cut through their own bubble, making them both jump.

Jamie tore his lips away from her, and they both glanced up. "Jenny!" He immediately shot to his feet and hugged the petite woman wearing a puffer jacket, black jeans and a pair of wellies. "When did ye get back? I thought I'd see ye just after Christmas."

"Aye, had a last-minute change of plan. I left yer pressies in yer kitchen, and Ian says he'll call one of these days to see ye. He's just got some catching up to do with work."

Claire absentmindedly wiped her hands on her jeans and got up, noticing the other woman's delicate features and black hair tied in a high ponytail. At first glance, Jamie's sister could be mistaken for an adolescent with her five-feet height and small frame. The only tell-tale sign that she was a Fraser was the same blue eyes and dark hair she'd inherited from Brian.

"I told ye no' to bother ..." Jamie's voice trailed off as he looked past her sister's shoulder. "You brought company."

Still not acknowledging Claire, Jenny beamed at Jamie and then motioned for the beautiful tall dark-haired girl standing several yards away to come over. "Ye remember Geneva? Aye? Met her at the centre today and we're going for coffee after. Actually, she told me she's going to be yer new therapist. Yer former one had to leave temporarily for the south of England because of some family emergency. Now isnae that grand Geneva's back? She's going to stay here for good."

The girl, Geneva practically skipped, stopping short of throwing herself in Jamie's arms as her eyes briefly caught Claire's. "Jamie!" she greeted breezily, giving him a slack embrace. "Nice to see you again."

"Aye." Jamie nodded, looking perplexed. "It's been a while. Didnae realise ye were around." Not waiting for Geneva's response, he grabbed Claire's hand, drew her to his side and planted a kiss on top of her head. "By the way, this is Claire, my girlfriend," Jamie said, with a hint of finality in his tone. It was almost as if he was giving a warning to his sister that there would be no discussion about it.

He must have noticed Jenny ignoring her presence and wanted to reassure her he was on her side.

Claire offered a polite smile, a few words of greeting and shook both women's hand, all the while conscious of Jamie's comforting hand on her back. Its weight served as a reminder the promise he'd made to her at the airport, lessening the sting of Jenny's lack of warmth.

"Weel, Jenny, Geneva, nice seeing ye both but I'm afraid I have to cut this short. As ye can see, I still have work to do and Claire and I are in the middle of discussing some personal matters. So if ye'll excuse us, both." Jamie gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the pressies."

"I'll give you a call one of these days to arrange for our first round of session," Geneva said, smiling at Jamie.

Jamie nodded and then he firmly grabbed Claire's hand as they edged past them, without another word. Once alone in the kitchen, Jamie pulled her in his arms and sighed into her hair. "Dinnae mind my sister. I'm sorry she wasn't as welcoming to you as the rest of my family."

She swallowed. "I'm fine, really, and I understand. Jenny is only concern about you. Who is that girl, Geneva?" she asked.

He exhaled and stroke her hair. "A friend of my sister. She used to live in the village but moved to Glasgow a while ago. I guess she's back and will be my new therapist."

"Oh, alright."

Jamie hugged her tight. "I want ye to know, it's ye and me now, Sassenach. I need ye to trust in that. Ye with me?"

She buried her face against his chest, as Jamie's words plunged deep and unearthed the truth she'd been grappling with ever since the count down to her departure date begun. For years she'd been living in a fog in London with no sense of direction searching for something she never had a name for. Now that she'd found it, she didn't want to spend a long time analysing it while doing a job that never gave her a sense of fulfilment. She knew now Jamie would follow her anywhere in the world, but she didn't want him to do that and lose a piece of himself. This was the place where he belonged, and she would find a way to belong here too, with or without Jenny's blessing.

She snuggled closer into his hold. There was a reverence in the way he held her, and all she could think of how cherished, safe and anchored she felt. More than ever, she felt secure in his affections and more optimistic about their future. Jamie was right. All that was left was them. Who would have guessed a month ago she would have her life all planned out around this man in such a short time.

Shivering slightly with excitement, her mind flitted through the countless tasks that needed to be done before she could start her new life. To get back to her Jamie.

Looking up at him, she smiled. "It's you and me now, Jamie and I trust in that. Always."

He looked relieved as he relaxed in her arms, telling her something had lifted off his chest.

..........

That night, Jamie watched Claire from the sofa as she rearranged her suitcase for the umpteenth time. His parents had given her a boozy fruitcake, homemade preserves and a bottle of single malt to take with her, and she'd insisted she didn't need another bag to make everything fit in.

Though her beautiful face looked concentrated and determined with the task at hand, her whisky eyes looked haunted, already dreading the time when she would leave. They'd had a light supper earlier and made love twice, and there was only one truth that mattered. They loved each other. Though he didn't want her to leave, he needed to let her go, for now, be the voice of reason and the face of courage for what might be a lengthy separation. God knows, he understood what she was feeling, but he didn't want their last night together to be filled with uncertainty. He wanted tonight to be a celebration of their love and the future to come.

How many times had he thought of persuading her to let him come even for just a few days? But then again it wouldn't be fair to her if she had to worry about him every single minute of the day when she would be better off concentrating on the work she needed to do. He had enough on his plate as it was with his arboricultural business and his own mental health, and he needed to refocus his attention on that.

He told himself, it was a wee sacrifice, and this time next year, she would be here for good.

With a sigh, he slid down to the floor and picked up her travel diary.

He glanced up at her, waiting for her permission. When she nodded, he smiled. He liked that they sometimes communicated without talking, like it was their own wee secret, instinctively knowing how the other felt or when the other was looking trying to get one's attention.

He carefully opened the travel diary which was thick with postcards Claire had pasted on its pages. A few photos slipped out. Thinking they were postcards, he was about to slide them back into the diary, when he realised he was looking at one of Claire's family photos. His heart leapt, and his eyes immediately zeroed in on Claire's father, confirming his suspicion. Harry is Henry Beauchamp! But how and why? Goosebumps coasted down his back. He didn't know what to feel other than have this urge to laugh out loud. He'd never believed in spirits or ghosts, but something inside him told him tonight was not the night to delve into it. He needed to talk to his godfather and find out more about Harry. And find out why Claire's father's spirit was helping him.

He felt Claire's eyes on him, and they stared at each other for a few moments. He put the diary down, and he opened his arms, and she slid into his embrace and onto his lap.

He breathed in the clean scent of her hair and savoured the length of her body, fitting perfectly to his. His hand travelled down the curve he'd memorised and worshipped with his lips and tongue and touch. And he realised this woman had healed him, with her presence and humour and stubbornness. Harry must surely approve.

Her whisper drifted to his ears like a wisp of smoke. "I have to leave tomorrow."

"I ken."

"Oh, God, but I don't want to."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I ken."

She tilted her head back, a soft smile curling her lips. "Speechless for a change, huh?"

He laughed, even though his heart was ripping apart at the idea of her gone from his bed and everyday life, realising what a gift she'd given him this holiday season. "So many things to tell ye but we have little time left. So I'm just gonnae hold ye like this to make up for the long winter ahead."

She blinked twice, a moist sheen apparent in her eyes. "Always the sensible and practical one, aren't you? "

"I willnae be tonight."

Claire caught his intention, and the longing they thought was already sated rose between them once more. He kissed her slow and thorough, taking his time, savouring the taste of chocolate, whisky and sweet honey, sinking deep and demanding everything. And she gave it all and much more, as they made love until all their energy had been spent and fell into a deep sleep in each other's arms.

..........

Claire walked out of the cottage and found Jamie waiting for her, her suitcase already deposited into the rental car. Willie and Annalise were in their own bubble locked in each other's embrace, whispering promises and secrets. She smiled at them, her heart hurting. Though Annalise's and Willie's relationship looked seamless, they'd had their own share of teething problems resulting in a couple of fights. Claire was glad they'd made up already before their departure. Claire walked with heavy feet over to them and cleared her throat, making Willie grinned boyishly at her. He let go of Annalise and gave her a big hug. Jamie did the same and enfolded her friend into a tight embrace.

"My brother and I are going to miss ye both" Willie whispered into her ears.

"Me too. I heard from Annalise, we'll be seeing you in a couple of weeks. Is that right?"

Willie laughed and drew away. "Aye but unfortunately, I willnae be taking my brother with me. Someone has to be here to run the business."

"I know."

"I'll bring ye his love letters though," he teased.

She laughed.

With one last squeeze, Willie let her go. Claire watched Jamie said his own goodbyes to Annalise, making her friend tear up even more. Who would have thought, Annalise would be reduced to a bumbling mess when she had always been the one who had everything under control. Claire watched them both laugh with moisture in their eyes, both trying to downplay what they were feeling.

"Take care of my lass," Jamie whispered gruffly. "Ye have my number in case anything happens. Ye can call me anytime."

Annalise laughed and pulled Jamie in for another hug. Claire knew Annalise was trying to hide her own tears "You have my number too. Send me some candid photos or videos of Willie, whenever ye can."

"I will. I have a few embarrassing ones already on my phone. I'll send them once ye're in London."

Annalise wiped the tears with the back of her hand. "I'd love that."

Willie motioned Annalise over for another final goodbye.

Her friend looked at Jamie before walking over to Willie. "I'll see you when I see you."

Jamie nodded, smiling.

Claire faced Jamie, sliding her arms around his waist. "I don't like goodbyes," she whispered. "I wish I could teleport myself now to London, so I could just go back to bed and sleep off this feeling."

Jamie caressed her cheek, his soft blue eyes filled with adoration. "Dinnae be sad, Sassenach. Enjoy yer trip back home and have a few laughs with Annalise. I took ye away from her a lot of times, keeping ye all to myself. Maybe ye can both catch up with whatever ye lassies talk about."

"I'm glad I'll have her with me on the way home. She will at least keep me distracted from being sad."

"Ye'll keep one another distracted."

They smiled, and Claire was about to say something when a loud excited barking filled the air, and she glanced over to see Rollo bolting towards them, tongue lolling with excitement. She laughed and let go of Jamie. "I haven't seen the kitten. Where is he?"

"Oh, Adso?

Claire frowned. "Adso?"

"Aye, I've named the wee cheetie, Adso. My ma used to have a cat called Adso, and I couldnae think of any other name, so I'm calling him that."

"Goodness, what a horrible name!"

Jamie laughed. "Try saying that to my ma. Anyway, he's at Mrs Fitz's for now until he's big enough to be on his own."

Smiling, Claire got down to her knees and hugged Rollo, burying her face into its warm fur and inhaling the doggy smell. "Going to miss you, handsome," she murmured, stroking the dog's back. "I'll never forget our first breakfast date. You were a perfect gentleman."

Rollo replied by nudging her neck with his snout.

She unfolded herself from the ground and walked towards the car, where Jamie waited. Annalise was in the driver's seat already while Willie leaned on the window talking to her.

Claire glanced at her watch. "I'll call as soon as we arrive home."

"Looking forward to it."

"Well, this is it." She stuffed her hands in her jean pocket and looked away, rocking to and fro on her heels. "Try that mediation I told you about so you don't have any nightmares at night."

"I haven't had them for almost a fortnight, so I guess you have to talk to me on the phone until I fall asleep," he joked.

"That's very good, Jamie," she said, looking at him thoughtfully, this time ignoring the jest that was common in their conversation. "But try to look into meditation. If it isn't your thing, then at least you've given it your fair shot."

"I promise I'll give it a go tonight."

She smiled. "Good."

"And one more thing, Sassenach."

"What?"

"This." He braced her jaws with both hands and kissed her tenderly, the warmth and feel of his mouth, making her sigh, and her heart expand. When he raised his head, he had a beautiful smile etched on his face, almost beatific if it weren't for the mischief that always seemed to shine from his eyes. "I love ye, Sassenach."

"I love you too. See you around?" Claire whispered, suddenly feeling the odd lump in her throat.

"I'll be waiting."

She stepped away from his hold and quickly got into the car, allowing herself to take one last look at Jamie through her window. Time slowed in that instance, as if her brain needed a mental photograph, a keepsake to give her strength in the times to come. With his legs braced apart, one hand on Rollo's head, his coppery hair blowing in the wind, the leashed strength radiated in waves around him as his pale-blue eyes locked with hers. Annalise started the car, bringing her back into this moment, and he smiled and raised his hand in goodbye. She knew that took a lot of effort to keep that happy expression plastered on his face, so she smiled back, though wobbly, and blinked back the tears. A choked sob rose up from her throat, and it felt like she was losing a piece of herself she'd just found.

With one deep fortifying breath, she tore her gaze away from him and looked straight ahead, as Annalise reversed and drove away.

This time, she didn't look back.

She knew if she did, she'd never leave.

Dear Readers,

Well, here we are ... the final chapter of All I Want For Christmas. I thought I'd still be writing this until Easter. 😂 My problem with me is I get so focused on one scene and write too lengthy details about it, instead of quickly moving to the next. But hey, we live and learn. And the main thing is, I finished this story, even though two days later than I projected.

If you think the ending to this chapter is sad, please don't be disheartened because there will be an arc or Part 2 as I wish to call it.

As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I have decided to make this story into a series. The title of the series is, WONDERWALL. So if you wish to subscribe to the series, click here. As for part 2 of this series, I still have no definite date when I will publish it, but you can always subscribe on AO3 here or check my Tumblr blog if you wish to be updated.

My plans are to start publishing the second part around holidays/special days. So either before Valentine's day or St. Patrick's day, all depending on how well I've rested and how quickly I can put the story together.

Having said that, I thank you all for being part of the journey with this story, and I look forward to writing part 2 of Wonderwall for you. And also thank you so much for the kudos, feedback and follows. It warms my heart to know that you enjoy my story. Big hugs for that!

So for now, I wish you good health and strength in these strange times. Keep the good vibes up, take care always and sending you all love. X

PS: I will be updating the Masterlist of this story soon here.

#melodyheart #all I want for christmas is you #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

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Illumi x black Y/N

JUST OCCURRED TO ME I NEVER UPDATED MY ILLUMI STORY ON HERE?!??!

It was the next day when Illumi came home and all night you had to force yourself to ignore the phone calls that came throughout the night. "Y/N I brought you breakfast." you could vaguely hear the monotone voice through your sleepy state. Sitting up you wipe your eyes and look around the room before finally taking in the food in front of you. You blink slowly as you take in the large egg in front of you.

It was about 2 feet tall and larger than your own head with speckled spots all around it. "Illumi what the hell is this?" Illumi blinked at you, "A boiled egg, I heard it is popular among you people." he replies, taking out a spoon and whacking the top of the egg at light speed. All at once, the egg was made up of cracks before they all fell lightly around the egg itself.

"You people? What does that mean" you glared at him, arms folded. Illumi looked at you blankly before closing his eyes and standing up, "Isn't it obvious? Americans." You looked at him for a while, questioning the life choices that lead up to this moment. "Are you going to eat this with me?" you asked poking the large food product with a fork provided by Illumi's brother from your last meal. Illumi shook his head, "No I ate two weeks ago I'm quite full."

At this point, you didn't have any desire to question it as you pierced your egg with your fork eating it. You were surprised at the abundance of taste it held without having any noticeable sauce or seasoning on it. "This is amazing!" you said digging in the egg savoring every bite. Illumi took out a notepad and scribbled something down. "What's that?" you ask, eyes lighting up as you finally made it to the yolk. "Notes my mother gave to me in order to make you accept this family as your own. Step 1: Take them, easy enough. Step 2: a way to a man's heart is through his stomach." Illumi looked up to you with what you could only guess to be pride.

"Did you just call me a man?" you asked blandly suddenly wanting to throw something at the skinwalker. "As far as I can see, you carry no masculine features but even if you did, my family has ways of making it work." Illumi says gesturing at the pins adorning his green vest. You internally shiver at the sight of them as you think back to the night you two met. "Why wouldn't you answer my calls?" Illumi asks, black eyes peering down at you as if they could swallow you whole. "Why did you call me while you were inside someone. Aren't I supposed to be your wife?" you questioned sarcastically licking your lips and setting the plate to the side.

You had only finished about 1/8 of the egg but you felt as if your stomach would implode on itself. You jump as you see a pale hand planted on the bed next to you. You gaze up at Illumi as he looks down at you, seemingly to take in all your features. "Would you prefer I were inside you?" You squeal jumping up and out of the bed falling onto the floor. "Where did that come from!?" you yelled pointing an accusing finger at Illumi as he walked around the bed towards you.

"Although I would prefer our lovemaking to be only when conceiving a child, I do not mind indulging in your fantasies." He says sliding a nail down the middle of his vest opening it up to reveal a green shirt underneath. "You stay right there slender man! Touch me and it's on sight!" you say wielding your fork as if it were a weapon. "Onsight? But I can see you just fine, are you perhaps blind?" You look at him with distaste as you stand up lazily throwing the fork in his direction. “You’re so weird.”

Illumi looked like a kicked puppy, “I don’t know what was strange, you chose to insinuate that you were jealous of me giving physical pleasure to another woman.” There was a knock on the door and a tall man with a mustache walked in. “What is it Gotoh?” Illumi asks, facing the man. Gotoh takes in your disheveled appearance and Illumi’s rare lack of that ugly ass jacket and smirks. “Look OG I don't know what you're thinking but that ain’t it.” you say rolling your eyes before walking into a closet to see what you could possibly wear.

Illumi looks at you with an eyebrow raised, “What is an Oh Gii? Is it a term of endearment?” You look at Illumi for a while before giving him a thumbs-up, “Yeah totally.” Gotoh pushed his glasses up doing his best to contain his amusement. “Your mother and father request a meeting with you and your fiance.” Illumi nods and Gotoh takes his exit.

You pull out an outfit that looks similar to what Illumi was wearing but instead of green it was red. “That'll work.” you mutter flinching as you feel arms wrap around your waist and you feel Illumi rest his head on your shoulder. “I am quite fond of you Oh Gee.”

You have to close your eyes and take deep breaths in order to keep in the laughter threatening to exit your lips.

Much to Illumi’s outward displeasure yet obvious pleasure, you and him were wearing the same thing. Although his vest was tightly hugging your chest and the pants were getting ready to bust from your ass. You two walked down the corridor in silence as you took in the navy blue walls that adorned the hallways. “I mean, knowing what you people do I wasn't expecting to see any loving family photos but how do ya’ll not get depressed with all this nothingness.” Illumi gazes forward but pulls out a small parchment. “I prefer to carry family memories.”

Illumi holds out a small photo to you. You look at it and it appears to be a child Illumi with his father in the woods. Ordinarily, this would be a sweet and endearing photo if not for the fact that Illumi was covered in blood splatter. “This was my first kill.” You quickly handed back the photo and chuckled awkwardly. “How cute a child murderer.” Illumi nodded, “Grandma thought so too.”

You silently prayed that someone, anyone would come to get you from this nightmare.

Illumi opens the double doors and allows you to walk in first. The room was much more lively than the halls but still managed to not look out of place. The room was a deep orange with golds everywhere from the linen to very abstract paintings placed in gold frames.

Sitting on a large pillow was Illumi’s mother and if they had your way, your mother-in-law. Illumi’s father of course sat next to her, broad-chested and overall intimidating. “I bet his dick is small.” you mutter trying to ignore how fast Illumi turned his head to gaze at you. “Illumi my son, come, come, sit!’ The woman cried, throwing her arms in the air in a welcoming manner. Illumi sat down.

You continued to stand because there was no obvious pillow for you to sit on. “Umm.” you scratched the back of your head before walking close to Illumi to sit. “No need for you to sit my dear, you will be leaving soon anyway.” you raised your eyebrow at that and couldn’t help but feel a chill go down your back. “W-What does that mean sir?” you ask. To your left, a small man in a lab coat walked from behind a door holding a clipboard. “We are ready sir.” he says not looking at you the entire time

“Y/N can you please go with him.” Illumi orders not even giving room for objection. You put your hand on your hip slapping away the hand the little man offered to you. “Like hell, I’m just going with Dr. Frankenstein over here without having any information!” Illumi sighed, having the audacity to look embarrassed. “You chose yourself a feisty one, my son.” Silva chuckled looking at you with a gleam in his eyes that made you thoroughly uncomfortable.”Illumi!” you warned, tapping your foot on the carpet. “More like obnoxious.” you could hear Kikyo mutter but you were too pressed with Illumi to care.

“It is understandable Illumi, I’m sure she would be more comfortable with her husband present during the examination.” You tapped your foot faster, getting anxious at the words 'examination.'

After a long pause, Illumi get’s up and follows you into the next room. This room was ordinarily dull. The floor was hardwood but the walls seemed to be adorned with expensive fabrics. “Miss if you will, can you roll up your shirt so I can draw blood.” You jerk your head at Illumi who simply looked blankly at you.

Seeing no other choice you roll up your sleeve but before the doctor could put the needle within you, you freaked out and stopped him before holding your hand out to Illumi. Illumi looked at your hand before recognition set in his eyes. He leaned forward and gave you a high-five. “My brother Killua taught me that.” You put a tight smile on your face before reaching over and grabbing the nearest object and throwing it at Illumi’s head satisfied as it hits him square in the jaw.

“No dumbass, hold my hand.” you responded. Illumi opened his mouth to say something but decided against it before taking your hand into his. Illumi’s hands were unsurprisingly cold considering how pale he was. The fingers were thin, long, and too delicate to belong to someone that takes lives for a living. You couldn’t quite help but laugh at how your skin tones concentrated so drastically, it was almost comical.

Before you knew it the blood work was done but you still didn’t let go of Illumi’s hand fearing what was to come next. “Please take off your clothes.” You Look at the doctor for a second before slowly sliding out of the chair and bolting for the door. Before you could make it you feel the neck of your vest being jerked back. “Don’t make this difficult please.” Illumi sighed.

“Hey you're not the one being asked to strip in a strange place.” Illumi shook his head, “Would you like it if I striped you instead of the doctor?” You smacked him on the back of his head, “No with your weird-ass!”

In the end, you kicked Illumi outside and found yourself propped up in a chair as the doctor took swabs in your cooter much to your discomfort. Illumi comes back in by the time you finally put your pants on and you follow him and the doctor back to the original room.

“How did it go doctor?” Silva asks and as you come closer you notice a large pillow sat out for you. “I’ll have you know my findings are quite peculiar. This woman seems to be a second nen ability within her but it’s dormant. This only happens with twins when one consumes the other.” You knew this fact, your momma always joked about how you were so hungry as a child that you ate your sister. “And what else.” Kikyo said, opening a hand fan impatient. “Is the girl barren and therefore of no use to us?!”

“Oh you won’t have to worry about Illumi’s ability to produce children, this woman is extremely fertile. In fact, I’m sure all it would take would be one time. There is also a high chance they could produce a white-haired offspring.” Your eyes widened, Kids? What the hell are they talking about, it’s been 3 days do you not get a got damn orientation? Silva held his chin in thought, “Though I do not doubt Killua’s loyalty, it’s always good to have a backup.”

You stood up and headed out the door as fast as you could, fists clenched. “Back up my ass, I ain’t having no brat with any of you people!” You walk down the hall, having no intention in mind highly doubting that you could make it to any exit without this damned family allowing you to. “Who the hell are you?” You hear a voice down the hall coming from a small boy with white hair. ‘This must be Killua.” You thought as you continued to walk past him, “A bad bitch who doesn't need no weird-ass fish-eyed man.”

Before you take another step, you hear a loud sound coming towards you, “Get out of the way!” Killua said, pushing you against the wall. There is a loud crack then footsteps, “Hello Killua.” You heard Illumi’s monotone voice say as he comes to be in front of you. Reaching above your head, Illumi picks out one of his pins from the wall behind you. “The hell was that Illumi!’ both you and Killua yell out, pointing an accusatory finger at the man in question.

“I see you’ve met my bride.” Illumi continues ignoring the situation. “It was good to see you again, finally tired of your ‘friend’?” Killua scoffed, “No, I’m here because dad called me.” he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets and walking away, “Hey!” you look up at Killua who had his hand raised in a wave, “Sorry for your loss.”

Illumi crowds you back into your shared room with more force than necessary. “Hey watch it!” you snap shaking your shoulder out of his grip. “You embarrassed me in front of my mother.” He replied blandly. You roll your eyes, “Well sorry for you pretty boy, but I have bigger fish to fry.” Illumi looked around the room slowly, “I swear to god if you say-” “What fish?” You groan plopping on the bed burying your face into the sheets.

In your own world, you ignore the feeling of the bed sink, but you do not ignore the crotched pressed into your ass. “What in the hell do you think your doing nigga?!’ you say not in the mood whatsoever. “What is a ni-” you swing your hand behind you and attempt to slap Illumi in the face only for him to grab it and press it into the sheets above you. You begin to feel uneasy, “What are you doing fish eyes!?” You attempt to lift your hips but he secured them with his own. “Considering the results, I say that now is a perfect time to start consummating.

#black y/n #blackreader #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #illumi #illumi x y/n #illumi x poc #hxh #illumi hxh

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undercoverclover · 4 years ago

Text

A Work Of Art

Pairing: Pygmalion (Sehyoon) x Galatea

Genre: Myth AU, Fluff-ish, Angsty maybe, depending how you look at it.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: None?

Summary: When Pygmalion would rather be alone throughout his life, he creates the perfect woman in an ivory sculpture. This is my version of the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea for the @acewriters event, Greco Roman Writes.

As my internal alarm makes me stir, I steal a glance out my window and notice the sun rising just above the horizon. I groan as I sit up in my bed and stretch. I would like to go back to sleep, but I know that if I did, my current works of art would never get finished.

Looking to the corner of the cabin, I see the sheet draped over the sculpture I’d started just the day before. I make some breakfast and then begin carving on what’s to be the perfect image of a woman, or so I hope. By midday, I take a break to relax my aching hands and picture what my ivory sculpture will eventually become and smile. I did not get much done carving the legs, but it was taking shape slowly.

“Oh, Pygmalion!” I hear outside my window.

“What in the name of Zeus do you want?” I grumble.

“We just want to talk.”

“I wonder what he looks like.” A new voice sounds.

“I’ve heard he’s handsome with medium brown hair and eyes that match. I’ve also heard he’s an artist and his work will make you say wow, every single time.”

“We? As in there’s more of you wretched women out there? Go away!”

“But-”

“I do not and will not ever want anything to do with you. Leave me be!” I yell, fed up with them.

I hear them run away and sigh in relief. I swore that I’d never marry a woman in this city and I plan to keep it that way. I despise them all and I never travel, so becoming a hermit is my destiny. I go back to my sculpture and work diligently through the day.

I know that it’s late and the sun went down some time ago, but I have the perfect image in my mind and I have to finish it before I can sleep. Chiseling away pieces and wiping residual dust from it, I run my hand over it. The surface is smooth and such a beautiful color, I hope that it will be just like I imagine it. My hands ache as I carve the final foot, but I feel accomplished. I wash my hands in the basin and change into fresh clothes as my last were covered in dust.

I cover my sculpture and head to my bed for the remainder of the night.

***

The days begin blurring together as my routine stays the same. I wake, eat, work and repeat. Working everyday, I managed to get the sculpture outlined in less than a week's time and almost finished in another. The quiet was peaceful for a time, but I began to wonder what it would be like if I had a wife.

“Pygmalion?” I hear as a knock ascends on the door. I jump up, startled but answer the door.

“Yes?”

“Oh my word, have you not seen yourself as of late?” My longtime friend, Philip says. I’ve seen Philip grow from a small black haired child with light brown eyes to a man. Hell I’d introduced him to his wife not too long ago and they were expecting their first child. One of the only friends I have, I respect him enough not to throw a stone at him right now.

“No, I have not Philip. I’ve been deep in work.” I grumble.

“A new statue? Your brown hair is covered in ivory specks of it that it almost looks white, your brown eyes are red and puffy, and the dust is all over your tunic. For crying out loud, how can you see out of your glasses?” He asks, taking them off of my face and wiping them off.

“Yes, and I just about have her done. Would you like to see?” I ask, excitement in my voice.

“Of course, dear friend!” I let him pass and he gapes at my beautiful ivory queen.

“She’s beautiful, Pygmalion. She looks lifelike! What’s her name?”

“Thank you, Philip. I have no name for her… But, I’m not quite done. I should finish the fine details tomorrow. You may come back and see for yourself before the sun sets tomorrow, if you’d like.” I smile, proudly.

“I must! If it looks this good now, I cannot wait to see what the final product looks like.”

“Then, I will see you tomorrow before sundown.” I smile, shaking his hand. He walks back to the doorway and turns back to me, “You know, she looks like a Galatea.”

I smile wider hearing the sound of that, “That will be her name then. Galatea it is.”

Philip smiles and takes his leave, making plans to return tomorrow and I decide that this is enough for tonight. I lay my tools down and walk outside to relax on the hill where I live. It overlooks the city and has the best view in the entire area. I lay in my favorite spot, watching the sun set before me and frown, letting the loneliness creep in just a little.

The next day, I did it. I finished the details. The long curly hair, her ivory color so flesh-like and the perfect proportions. I stand there admiring my work and finally lean down to kiss her cheek. The best piece of art I’ve ever made.

Philip comes by as planned and fawns over my masterpiece, but leaves just as quickly because his wife could have their child at any given time.

“What I wouldn’t give for Galatea to be real.” I say to myself. Loneliness has set in tonight in full force as I think about the sculpture in my home. She’s going to be perfect. Sitting up, I notice flowers a few meters away, down the hill. I smile sadly, going to pick them.

Grabbing them, I bring them back inside and place them in front of Galatea, leaning down to kiss the statue once again, “Oh how I would treat you like a goddess. Never mind that I seem like an outcast. I’d be the happiest outcast alive, if you were by my side.”

The weeks to come, I become lonelier and lonelier. Slipping into my mind and only seeing happiness when I saw Galatea’s gorgeous face. I dress her in the finest clothing I could buy and even buy a bracelet for her after selling off a small sculpture. Surrounding her with gifts, as if she was my goddess, I decide that I shall not love anyone else. I’d rather love someone I couldn’t have, innocently and purely than one of the vile women that walk this city,

That night, I washed up and instead of laying to rest, I prayed to the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite.

Goddess Aphrodite,

If you would hear my plea. I wish my darling Galatea would be mine, in life. I would treat her as the goddess she is to me. My heart will want none other. I have never asked for anything, but please hear me. I will forever be in your debt and always grateful.

I say my prayer and then go to bed, hoping for a better day tomorrow.

***

The sun waking me, I realize I slept later than normal. Apparently needing it as I didn’t sleep much in order to finish Galatea. Stretching, I sit up and wonder what I’ll do today….

The festival devoted to the goddess, Aphrodite, had begun today and I prepare the artwork and flowers I’d worked on in my spare time for her. Afterwards, I make breakfast and walk into town to sell off some art pieces that I had finished in my spare time. I take the gifts to Aphrodite’s altar and ask for my beautiful ivory statue to come to life. I know it’s highly unlikely, but it’s the only true happiness I want.

Leaving the altar after paying my respects and devotion, I look for more gifts to present to my one and only before I return home. The worrisome looks I am given as I pick things out make me seem like a mad man. That’s alright with me, less people to deal with.

I manage to find a necklace with a purple gemstone, my favorite color. I smile and get it for her, then hurrying home, planning to put it on her as soon as I arrive.

Walking in, the atmosphere feels different, “Hello?” I yell but to no avail.

Pygmalion, enjoy the gift of love. I hear inside of my mind. I wonder what that could mean and return to Galatea’s side. I place the necklace on her and kiss her on the lips wishing I could feel the warmth of them.

And I could….

I gasp, pulling away and decide I must be feeling things that aren’t there. I feel the arm making sure I hadn’t missed any places and it feels just like skin! I kiss her lips again and feel the warmth radiating through them.

“By the goddess.” I smile, as Galatea sits up to face me.

“Hello, I’m Galatea. It’s very nice to meet you.” She says, smiling wide, My heart explodes with delight and I whisk her in a hug, “Hello my love! I am Pygmalion!”

I hear her giggle and it’s music to my ears.

“Oh thank the goddess! Thank you so much Aphrodite.” I say, happily as I swing Galatea around. I sit her on her feet, keeping her hand in my own and show her around our house. She’s smiley and I can’t help but feel such joy that it brings tears to my eyes.

“Oh, Pygmalion. What is wrong?” She says, wiping the stray tear that escaped my hand.

“I’m so happy. That’s all, I promise you.”

“Okay, I truly hope so.” She smiles.

That night, she lays by my side and I feel complete for the first time in my life. She’s my masterpiece and I’ll treat her as such.

I thank Aphrodite every night after Galatea came to life and pay my respects to the both of them any chance I get. Galatea became my wife just a few short months later.

“Pygmalion, I have something to tell you.” I hear. I set my pencil down and turn to look at her. “I have news for you.” She says, smiling widely.

“And what would that be, my queen?”

“You’ll soon be a father.”

“No! You’re telling tall tales!” I hop up, hoping excitedly she’s not lying.

“I’m not. I prayed to Aphrodite last night and she spoke to me. She said something. Oh what was it….”

“Take your time, my queen.” I smile.

“Oh! She said, ‘Enjoy the gift of love.’ and said you’d know it’s real.”

I scoop her up and cheer and cry in happiness.

Later that year my son, Paphos, was born and I could not be happier. I never thought I’d know true happiness like this and here I am, holding a little boy in my arms as his curly black hair falls around his face and he looks at me with his mother's eyes. Finally, with my beautiful wife by my side. I couldn't ask for anything else in this world.

#a.c.e #acewriters #sehyoon #king wow #grecoromanwrites #myth #kim sehyoon #a.c.e sehyoon #pygmalion #galatea #pygmalion and galatea

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cauliflowercounty · 5 years ago

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Return to Me (Fred Weasley x fem!Reader)

House: You Choose

Blood Status: You Choose

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Mentions of serious injury/death-ish/distress/war

A/N: Happy Ending

Not proofread yet. I’ll do that later :)

----

Coughing from the smoke and ash, Harry presses himself up against the walls of the castle as Ravenclaw’s diadem shatters in his hands, scorched in the fire Crabbe had set in the Room of Requirement. Malfoy and Goyle disappear down the hallway without a word or thank you.

“Crabbe must have been casting feindfyre. That’s the only explanation for the diadem being broken,” Hermione says once the air’s cleared. “It’s cursed fire so it can kill Horcruxes.”

“What?” you grumble, standing up and catching your breath. “How’d he learn that?”

“Probably the Carrows,” Ron remarks. “He probably had a field day with them. They were teaching the cruciatus curse in their classes. I wouldn’t be shocked if they taught him how to cast feindfyre, too.”

“This means we only need to kill the snake, Harry,” you say, realizing Voldemort’s defeat is closer by the moment.

“Yeah, but how are we going to get it alone?” Harry inquires. “It’s practically a part of him.”

“We’ll figure out when we get there,” Hermione says.

As everyone gets to their feet, the crack of spells can be heard echoing down the corridor, coming closer and closer by the moment. Harry, Hermione, and Ron draw their wands, in preparation. You clench your hand around yours, preparing for whatever might come.

Percy and Fred come into view, dueling two hooded figures in long black cloaks. You sigh in relief. Fred is still alive and fighting with all his might. You watch as the death eaters’ silvery masks reflect the light of the spells as the opponents exchange blows. Percy flicks his wand and hits Pius Thicknesse squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling backward. Fred skillfully blocks a curse headed his direction, countering with a jinx, causing the other death eater to trip.

“Stupefy!” Fred shouts, hitting the death eater as he falls, sending him flying back towards the other end of the hall and knocking him out cold.

“Hello, Minister!” Percy exclaims beside his brother with a smirk. “Seems as though you could brush up on your dueling. And did I mention I’m resigning?”

You jump forward and join Percy, wrapping up the Minister in binds made of his own robes. Percy swirls his wand and the Thicknesse quickly starts to transfigure into a sea urchin. Percy smiles, satisfied with both of your work. Next to you and Percy, Fred lets out a hearty chuckle, the vibrant smile you’ve grown to know to spread over his face. He starts to say something about how long it’s been since Percy’s made a joke since he’s so consumed with his work and shrouded in seriousness. Just as the moment of satisfaction comes that there are no longer any threats in the seventh-floor corridor, everything slows.

The shockwave rips through the air. The explosion is unexpected and devastating as it sends everyone flying and to the ground. White noise rings in your ear. As you feel the rubble tumble past your head and dust fill the air, you don’t have a sense of anything around you or where anyone else is. After a second, you move your fingers and legs, trying to determine your injuries. Other than a few bruises and some residual shock, you seem fine as you get up shakily.

“Hermione? Y/n? Harry?” Ron calls out. “Percy are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” Percy says. “Fortunately, my glasses are the only thing that’s broken.”

“Ron! Thank goodness!” Hermione calls from somewhere around the rubble.

“Where’s Fred?” Harry asks as you gasp in horror. Looking down a few feet away from you, you can see a light-skinned frecked arm sticking out of the rubble.

“Fred!” you shriek, rushing to him. “Fred! Help me! Percy!”

You scramble to move the rocks from on top of Fred in desperation, praying and pleading to anyone or anything that would listen that Fred is okay. The others join you, clearing the rocks with magic and their bare hands. As soon as you’ve uncovered him enough, you scoop him up and hold him against your chest, tugging on his torso and lifting him all the way out of the rubble. His eyes are closed and his body is limp. Resting his head in your lap, you begin to cry.

“Freddie?” you whimper, running your hands through his hair just as he’s always loved. “Are you there? Come on, wake up?”

Percy takes two fingers and presses them to Fred’s neck. Percy’s eyes widen.

“I feel a pulse,” Percy sniffs quietly, a tear rolling down his cheek. “But it’s faint. I don’t know if he’ll between now and when we can get him to Madame Pomfrey…”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s faces all drop. Fred’s always been there. Making jokes, teasing Ron, selling his products. Most of all, he’s been with you. They stare at Fred’s face in shock, not even beginning to fathom a world in which Fred Weasley isn’t around.

“I-I have something to ask all of you and I need you to do it fast,” you say quickly. “You have to trust me. It’s for Freddie.”

The four of your friends look at you intently.

“I need you all to cast the Patronus charm,” you explain. “Now.”

“Y/n…” Hermione says. “This isn’t’ the time. There aren’t even any dem-”

“I know, Hermione!” you snap, shooting her a look. “Stop asking questions trust me! I need you to cast it or Fred might not make it! I can’t cast it now. Corporal patronuses are best but shields are just fine! Hurry!”

Everyone nods, grabbing their wands, and soon enough, Harry’s stag, Ron’s jack russell terrier, and Hermione’s otter form in the air. Percy closes his eyes and casts his own charm, forming a small shield in front of him. You nod to all of them and mouth your gratitude.

Closing your eyes, you extend your arm out in front of you above Fred’s chest. You focus and reach further, your fingers feeling as if they’re pushing through layers and layers of magical barriers and shields. As soon as you feel it, you grasp a small vial in your hand and it materializes as you pull it back towards you. The others watch in confusion and awe as you uncork the tiny vial. You murmur a few small words, hoping this will work as you tip the vial.

Out of the vial comes a shimmering liquid that glows as it descends through the air and onto Fred’s chest. It shines as if it’s made from the sun itself and swirls with a pearlescent sheen. As soon as it touches Fred, it glows warm, comforting, filling the entire vicinity in its brilliance. The lights dance with the silvery blue whisps of the patronuses. Within a second, it all fades.

You duck your head down to Fred’s chest and sigh a shaky breath as you listen to Fred’s steady heartbeat.

“You’re okay…,” you smile to Fred, who’s just beginning to stir. His brown eyes flutter open and lock with yours.

“Y/n?” he whispers almost inaudibly, reaching up to touch your cheek with care. He coughs a bit, clearing the dust from his throat.

“It thought I lost you,” you cry as he brings you into a tight hug, your tears staining his jacket. The others gasp and smile. Fred’s still here. He’s not dead. Fred reaches up to Percy, who helps bring Fred to his feet and the three brothers quickly embrace Ron on the verge of tears. As soon as they release, Fred turns to you, scooping you up in his arms and kissing you on the lips, giving it all he can. As you break apart, he rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Fred whispers, noticing your tears dribbling down your cheek.

“It’s okay…,” you reply softly. “It’s not your fault… I’m glad it wasn’t too late. I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

“I’m not going anywhere now, y/n,” Fred assures you. “There’s no way.”

Hermione clears her throat and you and Fred jump away from each other, surprised at the disturbance. “Y/n, what was that?” she questions

“Yeah,” Ron nods. “Explain.”

“It’s….,” you trail off. “It happened a while ago. I was going through some very old books and I found a long lost magical technique. I had to translate it. What it said was that people can store concentrated healing magic. Once a day, someone can cast a healing spell and concentrate it in liquid form and keep adding to it as long as they want. If it’s kept going long enough, it can perform miracles. It’s inefficient, though. One person can only make one at a time and you can only add to it once a day. It must have fallen out of use for inefficiency… but I’ve made my own. That’s what I used to heal Fred.”

“That’s bloody brilliant,” Ron exclaims in astonishment. “Why would a technique like that go out of fashion? Even if it’s rare, it still had value.”

You shrug in agreement.

“What about the patronuses?” Harry adds.

“Patronuses are more than they seem to be. Expecto Patronum means ‘I await a guardian.’ They repel more than just dementors. They can slow down death in his footsteps. They don’t stop him. Only slow him. Guardians are protectors, after all,” you clarify with a smile.

“So you asked us all to cast one because it would give Fred the best chance?” Ron asks and you smile back to confirm. “Wicked.”

“This bit of explanation and monologuing has been great, but the battle isn’t over yet,” you say. “We still have to kill that snake.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione agree, beginning to head off toward the courtyard, deciding to seek out Voldemort and his snake directly, leaving you behind to stay with Fred. Just as they get out of sight, Fred tugs at your arm and kisses you lightly.

“Thank you y/n, I-”

“Shhh. Don’t mention it, Fred. I would have saved you any day,” you cut him off. “We can talk about this after the battle when we have a moment to ourselves.”

“I love you,” he adds with a hopeful look. You grin, not being able to resist him and kiss his cheek.

Fred nods and takes your hand. He looks at you in the eyes as if to say, “Ready?” You take a deep breath in, the feel of Fred’s hand in yours reassuring you that he’s still there and this isn’t a dream. With that, you, Percy, and Fred head into battle. This time, you don’t let go of Fred’s hand during the battle for even a moment.

Years later, you’re living in a London flat that you and Fred share. Wealsey’s Wizard Wheezes is a booming business. Everyday, you wake up to Fred, giving him his good morning kiss before he gets ready to work at the shop. You smile as you fix his crooked ties and kiss his nose. As you part your ways as he goes into the shop for his work and you head down the alley for yours, you smile to see all the excited children already gathered outside. You’re happy knowing that the shop is a success because it’s where he comes alive, talking about the products with customers. As you drop him off, George every once in a while flashes you a meaningful smile as if to say “this is all thanks to you.”

You travel with Fred to the United States when the international branches of the shop open, which was a much anticipated expansion. You’re right there in the picture with him and George on opening day as they cut the ribbon, clapping and cheering the loudest out of anyone.

At night, you both return to bed you share, and you snuggle into his chest tightly, taking in the smell of Fred that you’ve come to know and love: cinnamon with a hint of firework smoke. Each time, you tuck your head onto the crook of his neck, smiling, knowing you don’t know what exciting occurrences will come tomorrow, but Fred’s most definitely going to be there right beside you and you couldn’t be more in love.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #Harry Potter #weasley twins

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cheeriecherry · 5 years ago

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Birds Of A Feather [2/7]

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Warnings: like, one swear

Part 2/7

It’s been a week since you started your new position at Hawks’ hero agency. It’s a nice workplace, very accommodating for the staff, and the sidekicks and interns you work with are friendly and sociable. But there’s still a little piece of you that’s bitter.

You appreciated the job, especially when you discovered what your monthly paycheck would be, but the whole place was just so damn...busy. If you’d known that you’d maintain your hectic lifestyle after moving to Japan, you never would’ve come in the first place.

On top of that, despite your presence being requested by the man himself, you’d yet to actually meet your new boss. Not a conversation, a text, a simple hello, or even a red feather. At this point, you were wondering if the guy even existed.

You decide to mull it over some more on your afternoon lunch hour. You find your usual seat in the staff lounge, and pull out a container of chicken curry.

“Hey Y/N! Hawks says he wants to see you in his office!”

You pause with a forkful of food halfway to your mouth, glancing over at the young sidekick who’d just bounced in. “Can it wait until after lunch?” you ask, hoping to at least finish your meal before dealing with whatever you were wanted for.

The sidekick looks sympathetic. “Sorry,” she says, “but I don’t think so. He asked me to tell you to bring your food…”

You sigh deeply, but thank her for passing the information on. Don’t shoot the messenger, and all that. You begrudgingly pack your things back up and bid farewell to the few people in the room, all of which are ominously quiet.

That didn’t bode well.

----

A few minutes later finds you outside Hawks’ office, balancing your lunch container in one hand while you knock on his doorframe with the other.

His door is wide open, and you can see him sitting at his desk, facing the window and the view of the city. He probably knew you were there before you knocked, but there was no harm in being polite… though he might appreciate the humour of you walking in like you owned the place.

“You wanted to see me, Boss?”

He spins around in his chair, a charming smile gracing his features. You wonder idly if he’d planned that little spiel, and if so, how long he’d been sitting like that for.

“That I did, chickadee! Pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable, eat with me.”

You do as you’re asked.

“Sorry for not seeing to you sooner. It’s been such a busy week, villains and disasters all over the place. I swear, I’ve been to every end of the country.”

You sit tidily on the chair, legs crossed and wings tucked up neatly behind you.

“I understand,” you tell him, “you’re number two, after all. You’re in high demand.”

Hawks smiles wider, but you get the feeling it’s lacking some genuity. You don’t call him out on it, though.

“That’s a relief,” he sighs, slouching back a little. “I looked into you a bit before I hired you, y’know? Gotta make sure you had a good track record, blah blah, PR crap, blah, anyways. The reports said you were a pretty easygoing person. I’m glad they were right!”

You pray he doesn’t notice the slight ruffle of your feathers. Easygoing? Is that what people thought of you? You supposed there were worse things to be known for, but you? Easygoing? Maybe you’d become an actress if the whole hero gig didn’t work out for you, if you’d fooled that many people.

Easygoing. Yeah right. Burnt out, exhausted, apathetic, those were all accurate descriptors. But fucking easygoing?! Hah.

“Hey, you alright, kid?”

You’re about to ask him what he means, to tell him you’re fine and completely unbothered, but your stomach has other plans. Right when you open your mouth to speak, a loud growl interrupts you, aggressively sounding in the quiet of the room.

His grin softens a bit, a touch more kindness apparent on his face. He’s concerned.

“I didn’t mean to take your lunch hour away,” he apologizes, “I had actually wanted to catch you earlier today, but you were on patrol. I figured it wouldn’t be very cool of me to approach you and get swarmed by fans. Not productive for conversation, that.”

You shrug. “I haven’t taken it personally.” In fact, you hadn’t taken it at all. He could have never spoken to you ever, and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. You were here to do your job, and anything else was an unguaranteed bonus.

“Anyways,” he pulls out a paper bucket of what looks like KFC, and pops the lid off, “eat up. Don’t need my favourite employee dropping out of the sky from exhaustion.”

He digs into his own food, and you take yours out.

“If exhaustion could do me in, I would have fallen out of the sky a long time ago,” you mumble, immediately afterwards spooning food into your face.

Hawks bites off a small piece of chicken. “Whadya mean?” And you curse yourself for forgetting he’s sensitive to sound.

You chew your food pensively, making sure to swallow before you speak (unlike him…). “It’s like. Okay. Wing quirks are pretty rare where I’m from, yeah? In my old job, I was the only airborne hero for five hundred kilometers. I got called all over the place, back and forth, never in one place for very long, almost never at home in my own bed. I was sort of...uh…”

“Spread thing?” he supplies.

You nod. “Spread thin. It wasn’t healthy for me. Anywhere that makes you grow to hate your own quirk can’t possibly be good for you.”

“Now hold up, chickadee,” he interrupts, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on the desk. His eyes are wide and surprised, like he’s unable to fathom your words. “How could you possibly hate your own quirk?”

You think for a moment. “Hate is maybe a strong word,” you admit, “but there’s definitely some contempt there. Flying used to be my favourite passtime, y’know? The views, the wind, the sun, the silence. And then one day I woke up and thought ‘god, I hope they don’t make me fly today’.”

Hawks picks a little at his lunch, but is far to engrossed in your tale to pay much attention to it.

“Yikes,” he says.

“Yeah.”

You’re both quiet for a moment before you start speaking again.

“Two weeks after that happened, I moved here. Figured a change might be nice, good for my head, or whatever.”

“And how’s that working out?”

“I still hate flying.”

The conversation ebbs and flows after that, with Hawks not supplying much personal insight on the matter, despite you just spilling your guts to him. You don’t mind, though, and he doesn’t strike you as the kind of person to open up very easily. You probably would have been more disgruntled if he’d offered you some kind of similar story.

The two of you talk a little about work, what your old agency was like, where you went to school, and the questions centered around your life, and none prying into his. You make note of that, and file it away for later.

By the end of the hour, you’re sufficiently full of chicken curry, and your boss looks like he’s fairing the same (you’re not sure how he managed to pack away an entire bucket for fried chicken by himself).

“Thanks for lunch, Boss,” you tell him with a smile, an unspoken ‘it was kind of weird’ in your tone. If he picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything.

He does, however, stop you at the door, tugging you back into the room by your collar with a single red feather.

“Say, chickadee,” his voice is coy, “how’s about we make the afternoon more fun?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Come patrolling with me,” he clarifies.

“Why?”

“Flying’s more fun when you’re not alone!” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You doubt him, thinking back to all the times you’d ever flown with someone else (re: none). You relent, deciding to entertain his plan.

“Fine. But don’t fall behind, okay? I take my patrols seriously.”

The strange smile returns to his face.

----

After packing up your dishes and throwing away your trash, you follow Hawks to the stairwell. He said it was best to take off from the roof, if you didn’t want to get bombarded by fans.

“Ah, but I’m sure your fans would love to see you!” you tease, marching carefully up the steps. “It wouldn’t take too long, surely?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, pausing so suddenly that you almost get a faceful of his feathers.

“Well sure, if they were just my fans. Most people have seen me before, though, flying around, fighting crime. But you? You’re new. Your fans in Japan haven’t gotten to meet you yet.”

You tilt your head. “I...don’t have fans, boss.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He swivels around on the step, wings brushing quietly against the cramped cement walls. His expression is one of exasperation, and a hint of disbelief. Once he sees your genuine confusion, however, he sighs. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You shake your head. “I’ve only been here like two weeks. How could I have any significant following?”

He looks at you with a fondness reserved for naive children, or puppies. It’s a little patronizing, in your opinion.

“International heroes are pretty big here, you know?” he explains, “and you, little chickadee, were voted number four on the overseas popularity poll this year. Your fanbase here is rivaled only by a handful of heroes, most of which are in Japan’s top ten.”

You’re shocked, to say the least, and Hawks takes your silence as cue to continue walking.

You dodge his wings again, and resume following him.

“How could I be popular and not know it?” you ask. “Surely someone would have approached me by now-”

“Chickadee, when was the last time you were on the ground-”

“This morning-”

“-in the daytime?”

“Oh.”

You think back a little. You’ve patrolled in the skies since you started working at the agency, and your shifts started before sunrise. Plus, you usually flew home, well after sunset. It was just easier than trying to fit into a car and deal with traffic.

“I guess...not since the day I arrived.”

“Exactly! No one knew you were here, then. But now?” He pushes hard against the heavy metal door to the roof, taking a deep breath when it opens and a breeze blows through. “Now, all of Japan knows we work together!”

You saunter out into the sunlight, basking for a few seconds in the warmth. But the thought of your fans quickly overtakes your mind again, and the relaxation is lost.

“Are you sure it’s not fame by affiliation,” you wonder, “because seriously, I didn’t have fans back home. I’ve never been stopped for an autograph, or asked for a photo. I’m cool with that. I just don’t want people to like me because I’m near you sometimes.”

Hawks steps up on the lip of the roof, wings spread wide and overlooking the city.

He stays like that for a few seconds, and you note the deep tiredness in his posture, behind his eyes. You’ve seen it in your mirror too many times.

He’s just as exhausted as you are.

“Thus is the way of the world,” he mumbles, and you’re not sure you’re meant to hear it.

But then he perks up, as quickly as a light switch. He turns on his heel to face you, mischief and playfulness glinting in his smile. “I’ll race you to the bank tower? If I win, you gotta go on patrol with me tomorrow, too.”

You shrug, and take off into the sky. It’s not much of a fight, though. He has agility and familiarity on his side, and he’s waiting for you by the time you finally arrive at your destination.

You don’t mind.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #reader insert #winged reader au

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rose-demica · 4 years ago

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Gif Drabble, A ruined date

So @mariekoukie6661 sent me an ask with this gif... my new kitten jumped on my keyboard and somehow managed to privately answer it before it was finished. Thanks to my friends at the @fanficocean, we were able to figure out where it went, and get most of it back. (I also have definitely learnt my lesson, and will be now solely writing on docs outside of tumblr again).

It does mean I lost the original gif, and despite searching for the gif, and having the original poster’s ID, it hasn’t helped me find it. So it’s just a screenshot for now.

A sigh of relief passes your lips, eyes darting to the clock as your manager bustles in the door, mouthing apologies as you kept helping the seemingly endless line of people. It was 1am, four hours after your shift had been supposed to end. Everyone else from the other supervisor’s team had arrived on time, allowing the rest of your team to leave, but your own relief hadn’t shown up, hadn’t even had the decency to call in and warn the managers in advance. They’d asked you to stay later while they scrambled to find someone to cover the absence… you hadn’t expected it to take four hours.

You had hoped for a moment to text your date, tell him you’d be delayed, or just cancel. It was a bad look for a third date, but you had no choice, the store couldn’t run without a supervisor, and there was no way you could close up the store, not two days before Christmas. Not when, even at 1 am, the lines for the registers winded back down through the aisles.

It was bad, really bad, to just ghost a man on your third date, but hopefully, he would understand. He had to understand, you really liked this guy. If your co-worker had cost you one of the sweetest guy’s you’d met, you would never forgive her.

“Just give me ten to set up.” You nodded as the manager breezed past you towards checkout control, turning your attention back to the woman who was insisting the sale sign didn’t specify a size. (It did, this was the 73rd time today you’d had this argument over this specific product.)

Those ten minutes dragged by, but finally, finally, you did your hand over and clocked out. Your first stop, once you were off the floor, was to check your phone. There were only five text messages, and two missed calls. Your heart hit your stomach, chest seizing up, did this mean he had given up? He wasn’t as interested in you as you thought.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you opened your conversation with him and read your messages.

2105

Hey, I’m here early, but don’t feel like you need to rush. There was a mess up with our reservation, so our table won’t be available for a little while. I’m at the garden bar, I can’t wait to see you.

2147

So I guess you’re running a bit late? Our table just opened up. I’ll order a drink and wait for you there. If you want I can place your order in advance? I know you tend to skip your breaks when it’s busy, and I hate to have you wasting away longer than necessary.

2215. One missed call.

2216

Are you far off? I’m getting a lot of dirty looks from the staff. Who knew they don’t like people who sit at tables and never order more than a drink?

2308

I gotta be honest here, I really like you, which is why I am praying you aren’t standing me up or ghosting me. It’s also why I’m going back to the garden bar. They’ve shut the kitchen down, but they said I can wait there until they close. I think they feel bad for me, and think I’m stupid for waiting this long... maybe I am...

2357

Well, it’s just me and the bartender left. The last stragglers from the restaurant left about 10 minutes ago, and now the staff have to. I know they won’t tell me to leave, not as a paying customer, however discounted my drinks might be, but I will. They’re allowed to close up early if there are no customers, and I don’t want to be the one keeping them open, not this close to Christmas when everyone is so busy and wants to be with family. So I guess I’ll... to be honest, I don’t know what I plan to do. Maybe I’ll head home, let me know that you’re safe please, even if you are ghosting me.

0027. One missed call.

Your fingers were automatically typing out a reply as your brain tried to figure out what to say, but as soon as it was typed you deleted it. What could you possibly say to apologise for the fact that you had stood him up, as much as you hadn’t wanted to. He had waited at the bar for you for at least three hours. You didn’t know if you would be able to do the same, endure all those looks from the staff and other patrons. Just sit at the bar, constantly casting glances at the time and trying desperately not to think-

“Goodnight.” You glance up in shock, only to see one of your staff members passing by on their way back onto the floor. You slid your phone into your pocket, step one was getting home, then you could put your feet up and figure out how to apologise for your disaster of a shift, and missing the date without giving any warning.

~~~

You feel your body relax as you step off the bus, nearly home, it was nearly all over, you were nearly home. You dropped your bag at the bus stop bench, sitting down and peeling off your work shoes, feet screaming after a long day of standing on them in cheap shoes. The snow was nice against your feet, at least, it was for now. The cold bite of the snow numbing the pain receptors. It would give you enough time to get home before it got too cold, or your feet gave out on you.

You were quick to pick up your bag and get moving, there was only so long before your feet would turn to icicles. Your eyes were glued to your phone as you walked the familiar route home, no one would be out at 1.30 in the morning. You barely looked up to type the code that would let you in to your apartment building’s lobby, nor as you approached the stairs, it was only as you made to dodge a person sitting on the bottom one that you looked up.

Stunning blue eyes met yours, knocking the wind out of you.

“Sorry beautiful, I just had to make sure that you’re alright. Please don’t think I’m a stalker or anything.” The man spoke, raising his hands. It took you a second more to tear your eyes from his, give yourself the chance to scan his body and recognise the man rising to stand before you. Your date, Clint Barton.

“Wha-” He chuckled at your stunned expression,

“You never replied, I was worried that maybe someone had kidnapped or ambushed you, figured the least I could do was check-in to make sure everything was all right.” He motioned to the phone in your hand, before tucking his hands into his pockets and shuffling awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, I was going to reply once I got home, I had no idea what to say to you.” You found your voice, putting your phone away. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might swing by to check on you, no one had ever done that before, it was sweet.

“No worries, I understand, have a good life Y/N.” He took a few steps away, and you reached out quickly, your hand reaching out in an attempt to wrap around a firm bicep. He could have kept going, easily pulled his arm from yours, but he stopped, turning back towards you.

“No. No-” It couldn’t all end, not like this. “I meant-” You breathed out heavily, searching for the same words you’d been looking for, ever since you’d read his messages. “Come upstairs? I still haven’t eaten, we can talk over a midnight snack.” His smile took your breath away, nodding slowly, almost as if he was waiting for you to take it back. “Great, my feet are killing me.” You smiled back, turning to eye up the stairs. You were only on the 3rd floor, but you weren’t sure you could convince your feet to carry you up that far.

‘Allow me.” You turned back to Clint, offering him your bag, but he only shook his head, stepping closer to sweep you off your feet and into the bridal hold. “You’ll have to let me know which floor and room, I’m afraid I only managed to figure out which building was yours.” You wanted to complain, insist you could walk yourself, but you couldn’t deny the sheer relief that you were finally off your feet.

“Just this once.” You meant to say it in your head, but the words accidentally fell out of your mouth, Clint chuckling at you. “3H.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, tucking your head into his neck. Eyes falling closed, feeling safe in his arms.

“You seem exhausted.”

“My co-worker never showed, took them four hours to find and get someone in so I could get off. It was so busy I couldn’t even send you a message.” You sighed heavily, “I love Christmas, I really do. But I hate it.”

“I had hoped it was something like that.” He spoke softly, before pausing, setting your feet back on the ground, one arm staying wrapped around your waist. You turned, looking up at him, arms staying looped around his neck, holding him close to you.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I wanted to be there.” He lifted another hand, running it down the side of your face, before cupping your jaw.

“I waited as long as I could.” He responded, leaning in closer to you. Your eyes flicked down to his soft pink lips, able to think of nothing but how badly you wanted to taste them.

“I know.” You stretched up, pausing when you could feel his breath roll across your face, waiting for him to close the distance. “Thank you.” You felt more than heard his quiet groan, lips rushing against yours a moment later. You responded tangling one of your hands into his hair and holding him.

It was your stomach growling that interrupted you, Clint pulling back with a smile.

“Let’s get you inside and fed, then we can discuss continuing this.” You stretched up, stealing another kiss from his lips, savouring the way they felt moving with yours, before pulling back and searching for your keys, eager to get inside and salvage what you could of your date.

#Clint X reader #gif drabble #Mcu #Clint Barton #third date #Clint being stood up #gender neutral reader?#reader #fanfiction

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jenovahh · 4 years ago

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The Honey Pot - Ch. 23 - Broken Promises

“Oh? A change of heart?” As expected, the Galvus patriarch looks equal amounts pleased and surprised, and of course, arrogant. “Though I knew you would eventually wisen up and come to me, I had expected you would take a bit more whittling down.”

Shrugging, you keep your voice as neutral as possible. “As the election draws near, I realized that I have an opportunity that is not presented to many. Do not be mistaken, you have yet to win me over,” you pause, crossing your arms across your chest, “in fact, you must win me over. I want to follow you on your campaign trail. I want to see if you are truly as great as you claim to be.”

It was risky, tackling his pride head on like that, but it was the only thing you could think of. If the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, Varis would happily rise to the challenge. However, unlike his son, there was nothing Varis believed in more than his own hype.

You stand there, pinned beneath his stare, the warm glow of his office darkening his eyes to a genuine gold. Seconds tick by as he studies you, and part of you is sure he is thinking about your decision from every possible angle. You’re unsure whether to bait him, to mock him for hesitating and not giving an answer immediately, but that would make you seem not only desperate, but suspicious. You opt to stare right back, arching a singular brow confidently.

He chuckles then, clapping his hands together as he stands from his seat. “You drive a hard bargain, Honey.” He purrs, crossing his arms behind him, circling the desk to walk toward you. He towers over you just like his son, sighing deeply as she shakes his head. “I show you my facility, my wealth, my intelligence...and still it is not enough.” He is not stopping, you realize, beginning to back away to keep distance between the two of you. He pursues.

Your back hits a wall, grunting as you nearly knock something over but with swift reflexes, he slams his palm on the stand you nearly tipped over, righting the opulent vase back to a standing position. He does not retract his arm however, instead shifting it to brace against the wall, leaning slowly into your space.

“This was not permission for you to get near me.” You snap, pushing him away from you. Even for the few weeks you had guarded him he had never gotten so close, your heart pounding in your chest.

Varis can hear how your heart drums, but misinterprets it completely. Giving you a sleazy grin, he maintains his distance for now. “Very well, Honey. I will allow you to be my bodyguard. I suppose one could understand your line of thinking. What better way to prove one’s abilities than to become the greatest leader the world has ever known?” Retreating to his desk, he leans against the front, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. “Due to your recent experience guarding me, slipping back into my routine will be easy, and Livia will once again return to Zenos.”

Gritting your teeth, you turn away from him heading to the door. "I'll be here first thing in the morning."

"Excellent. I look forward to it."

Wrenching the door open, you step out into the hall ready to scream. It wasn't fair to have this responsibility thrust upon you, to bear the burden of doing the right thing. It would be so much easier to just duck your head and follow orders. To stay by Zenos' side and follow your relationship wherever it took you.

But you couldn't go on knowing Varis could very well come into power. There was no telling what someone as awful as he could do being a world leader. As long as Varis did not deviate his schedule much, you would have plenty of spare time to yourself to retire to your room and compile your proof in secret. You would pay closer attention this time, writing down names, organizations, locations. You would put a stop to him.

You would make sure Estinien’s death was not in vain, that Cid could finally be free of his guilt.

That the truth of Minfilia was brought to light.

Your only hope was that everything worked out in the end. This was a huge risk you were taking, with no sign of a clear outcome.

When morning came, and it was time to rise, you dressed and ate breakfast, dread already pooling in your belly, but kept your head held high. As much as you wanted to stay in bed, you had to get up. This had to be done...for everyone.

“Good morning, Honey.”

Varis meets you by the grand staircase as usual, suit pressed and hair braided neatly, sitting atop his shoulder. “The campaign trail has yet to start in full, but there is much to be done before then. We will still be going to the office today to sort other matters--”

“What is he talking about?”

Flinching, you turn to find Zenos standing at the top of the staircase, eyes guarded. Guilt shoots through you; how could you have forgotten to warn him?

“Oh? Did she not tell you?” You wince as Varis throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you snugly against him. “Honey has decided to finally join me as my bodyguard.”

What you would give to never see the betrayal in Zenos’ eyes ever again.

“Zenos,” You begin, but he’s already storming off. “Zenos!”

You try to run after him, but Varis holds you back. “Let me go!”

“We have to get to the office.” His voice is suddenly cold, eyes glinting with restrained anger.

Glancing back up the stairs where Zenos had gone, you bite down hard on your lip, turning away as much as it hurt. Someday, you would make it alright, or at the very least, sit down with him this time and maybe try and explain. You had to do this. He just didn’t understand that right now.

“All right. Let’s go.”

Satisfied, Varis doesn’t release you as he guides you out of the door, and down his path of no return.

The first few weeks start off gaining Varis’ trust.

Despite your prior time stuck with him, it is almost like starting anew. Whenever there is something he doesn’t want you to see, he makes you wait outside the door to his office, usually calling Rhitahtyn to have someone in the room with him. It’s fine for the most part, as you can’t stand to be near him more than you have to, playing games on your phone or checking the news.

For when you do get to stick around, organizers of all kinds flit through his office, showing campaign commercials, flyers, internet ads. Alerting him to check his emails to approve of drafted speeches, to sign off on money to buy material, vendors coming to try and sell their product and what they could bring to the table for his bid for Prime Minister of Hingashi. What surprises you most is how well Varis handles it all, not looking overwhelmed for one second, balancing several plates with calculated ease. Were he not a monster, it would actually be admirable.

But Varis is a vain monster, something you learn quickly. It is a delicate balance of learning how to stroke his ego, but not in a way that makes it seem like you’re trying too hard. The best way you’ve found is to compliment him in a way that makes it seem as if he has taken you by surprise, gaining your favor in small chunks rather than big, flashy shows of his wealth. Something he was not used to, given that many women had probably fallen at his feet the first time they had stepped in one of his many luxury cars.

It works, slowly but surely. Like a trained puppy, he begins to live for those small bits of praise, seeking your approval and somehow, beginning to value your opinion. Just barely past a month does he begin bringing you along to his outings, where you get to see how he really looks out in the field.

“We have a temple to visit today.”

It’s still unbearably cold, snow blanketing Kugane in a sea of beautiful white, never failing to have you marvel at its beauty. Remembering you had been spoken to, you clear your throat. “I was not aware you were religious.”

He scoffs, as if genuinely offended. “Only you savages believe in such myths.”

Rolling your eyes, you continue to watch the city grow a little smaller on the horizon, having come out to one of Kugane’s more historical temples. Despite the cold, you can see several monks outside training, cleaning, or praying, looking like the picture of absolute serenity. As the car pulls around on the loose gravel, you spot who must be the head of the temple, dressed just like the rest with no visible indicator of his station aside from the staff that he carries. He looks fairly young as well, considering you see several monks around that could easily be his senior.

Pulling to a stop, you hop out the car, Varis following soon after. The chilly breeze bites at your skin, making you tug your peacoat a little closer against you. The monks descend the stairs, coming to a stop just as you meet them at the bottom.

"Good day, Sir Varis. The kami welcome you to our temple." The leader bows, prompting you to do so in return. Varis does as well, shocking you, thinking he would be too high and mighty to have good manners.

"We graciously accept your warm welcome, Widargelt.” Varis extends his hand in an offer to shake it and the monk accepts, giving him a welcoming smile.

“I will admit, I had not expected you to come out here personally. I thought you would be too occupied with other matters to visit us directly.” Widargelt continues, giving you a single glance before refocusing upon Varis.

“It is nothing to make time for what could be my future constituents.” Varis smiles, the expression so genuine it startles you. You didn’t think he could smile so warmly, and it looks strangely good on his harsh features. “Especially given that I had heard that your temple grounds had been threatened to be torn down and paved over for land development.”

At this, Widarglet immediately looks heartbroken, turning back to the aged temple. “It is so, Sir Varis. I am not as old as the elders living here on the temple grounds, but still I feel a deep bond with this land. It is sacred, preserved by generations of monks with teachings that feel as old as time itself. That a few wealthy businessmen want to tear it down just to build monuments to their greed tears at my soul.”

Varis flashes Widargelt a sympathetic look, nearing the bulky man, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “I would hear your plight, Widargelt. Please, if it isn’t too much to ask, I would like to walk around your temple as you tell me of your troubles.”

As the two men begin to saunter off, you follow a safe distance behind, unsure what to think of Varis’s change in behavior. It shouldn’t surprise you, after all, Zenos was able to become the perfect celebrity as soon as he stepped in front of a camera. Watching Varis however, leaves you confused as if you had somehow misread him like you had done his son. Was it possible he really was trying to be a decent leader?

Keeping an eye on their conversation, Widargelt bemoans how businessmen for years had offered him land and money, bidding higher and higher for him to give up the temple. While old, it was not officially protected by the government due to old arguments and forgotten clauses from a time long past. Thus, had Widargelt and the monks before him fought to keep the temple with nothing but pure will.

The businessmen had had enough though, going to the government and making a case that would allow them to use eminent domain to get what they want. It was dirty and underhanded, and Widargelt felt at a loss, for he knew if their temple fell, what few others remained would have the same fate befall them. Varis listened intently the entire time, nodding and offering his own legal advice, proving that his boasts about his education did ring true. With legal knowledge on his side, he would not merely be a businessman trying to play politics, but also have a legal background to work with.

“So will you be able to help us, Sir Varis?” Widargelt pleads, coming to a stop, overlooking the gardens at the back of the temple. It truly is a serene picture, with monks tending to the many bonsai trees and lush waterfalls, training by the naturally bubbling streams.

“To the best of my ability, should I get elected Widargelt.” Varis smiles, patting Widargelt on the shoulder once more.

“Of course, Sir Varis. I will let the other monks know what we spoke of today, to help inform their decision in the upcoming election. I’m sure other temples will listen to my words, and thank you for your help in preserving not just our culture, but our history.” Widargelt bows deeply, rising back up with a smile.

“Of course. I will make sure to let the proper staff on my team know of your plight, so that even when I do become occupied with other matters, one of them may always serve to remind me to give you the attention you deserve.” Varis grins, extending his hand to shake. Widargelt accepts eagerly, looking genuinely thankful and on the verge of happy tears. “We must take our leave for now, my friend. I hope that we may speak again soon under less dire circumstances.”

“Certainly, Sir Varis. I cannot be thankful enough.” Releasing one another’s hands, Varis begins to make his way down the steps to leave. Giving one last nod at the monk you follow him, still unsure about all that you had seen. From the looks of it Varis had seemed as if he would actually make a decent leader. He may crave power, but perhaps he also had issues with how his home had run things, and wanted to prove he could do it better. You still could not forgive his crimes, but had you misjudged him all along?

“Where to next?” you ask, reaching to open the door to the car, allowing him to slip inside. Following after him, you close the door, allowing the driver to start the car and pull away from the temple.

“To a homeless shelter.” Varis states simply, too occupied with dialing something on his phone. As he brings it to his ear, you pretend to be more interested in looking out the window, watching the clouds drift by.

“Gaius? Yes it went well.” Varis laughs, relaxing into his seat as you head back toward the city. “Yes, all the things we had heard about the land development were true.” He is silent for a moment before continuing to speak. “How much were they offering?”

Your brow furrows at that, keeping your face angled toward the window just in case you couldn’t control your expressions. What was he going on about?

“28 million gil you say? That is not an impressive offer, to say the least.” Varis mumbles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “The land is too picturesque for such a measly offer. I am willing to continue negotiations concerning offers for it, but only if they are willing to make a better deal.”

Is he really--

Taking a deep breath, you reign in your temper, staring hotly out at the barren landscape as you pass by. This wasn’t the worst thing he had done, and honestly, it should’ve been expected given that he was trying to be a politician. Representatives making promises they could not keep was nothing new, and for Varis to be the same as the rest of them is pretty in character. Keeping the details of the temple fresh in your mind, you remain quiet the entire way to the shelter which lies back within city limits.

Coming to a stop, you put on your best mask of boredom and let Varis step out from the car once more. As he steps out, you are approached by a small group of people, and as much as you hate it, immediately move to push the strangers off as they approach.

“Do not worry, Honey, they are supposed to be here.” Varis calls to you, the picture of calm as the group shuffles past you. Taking a closer look two of them are holding professional grade cameras, while another seems to hold a duffel bag full of supplies. “I’m glad that you made it on time. I trust you all have been informed as to what image I would like to present?”

“Of course, sir. All of our pictures will be ready for review at your earliest convenience. “

“Good. You’ve already been given clearance for photography, so head inside. I will enter shortly.” Varis orders and the three nod, trekking inside the building as if he had lit a fire under their ass. Just as they leave, a small auri woman appears, a small tote in hand. “Ah good, I was worried you had forgotten.”

“Never, my lord.” The much smaller woman chirps, coming to a stop before him. “If you would bend a little my lord, so that I may touch up your face before you go inside. The camera should catch your good side.” She grins, and Varis does as she asks, bending just enough for her to pull out a powder puff and begin touching up his face, giving him a slightly softer look. “Wonderful. I’ve lightened how sharp your angles are, which should give you a slightly more amiable appearance, my lord.”

“A job well done, as always. I appreciate your work.” He smiles, grinning wider as the woman seems to swoon slightly. “I must make my appearance now, so I will be seeing you another time.” Waving goodbye, he heads inside with you not far behind.

Stepping inside, it looks nicer than you would have thought, the architecture incredibly updated and the interior remarkably clean. What shelters you remember visiting in your youth were often dilapidated and barely held together, making you wonder by what means this one was in such good shape. Varis seems strangely at ease for being surrounded by the lowest societal rung, greeting the homeless as he passes by them in the halls and shaking their hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the photographers from earlier snapping pictures, the shutters so quiet that no one Varis preoccupies himself with notices their picture being taken.

Just like the temple, Varis is the picture of philanthropy, breaking bread with the homeless, listening to their troubles, offering a shoulder to cry on for people who have fallen on hard times. Promises of building more shelters, raising the employment rate, abolishing anti-homeless architecture. You can see hope begin to light within the eyes of the people, even the employees, captivated by the sheer charisma Varis emanates.

Just before you depart, Varis shows off a large check, both in size and the amount being donated.

The shelter is overjoyed, happy tears being shed as a promise of fresh beds being donated access to more food for the kitchens is promised. Varis continues on with his promises of more supplies all the way out the door, leaving a group of thankful people in his wake. Following him out to the car, you hop in after him, silently watching. As you ride back home, your curiosity gets the better of you, turning in your seat to face the pompous CEO.

“That shelter looked a lot nicer than others I’ve seen.” You start nonchalantly, as if to just make small talk. “Most of them usually look run down and on the verge of collapse. Have you been donating to that place for awhile?”

Clicking his tongue, he throws you a sly grin. “I suppose you could say that.” As you arch your brow in confusion, he continues, “It is a nice shelter because it is mine. I had it built about a year or so ago, but funneled the money to a representative to have it under his name. This allows me to make charitable donations without my money being handed out to the poor.”

Your jaw drops, but once again he misinterprets your disgust for awe. “It is quite ingenious, isn’t it?”

Scoffing, you turn away from him again, not believing what you’re hearing. “Wow.” You whisper, unable to fathom how someone could be this fucking vile. “It is...something. Most people would not think to do that sort of thing.”

“Of course not. Most people are not me.” Varis preens, seeming to be satisfied with gaining your favor. Remaining quiet all the way home, you remember to keep the entire day fresh in your mind, making a bee line for your room and locking the door tight. Pulling up the false bottom from your drawer, you begin to scribble in your notepad about all that transpired, wanting to make sure Varis zos Galvus paid for every single one of his crimes.

Somehow the election seems closer than it seems further away, despite being several months down the line. You had to get more evidence before that time, but given that it took over a month to get you to this point, you couldn’t afford to waste anymore time. You had to do something to get Varis to begin trusting you, something that would lower his guard and give up more information. How you would get the information out to the authorities would be hard, given that Varis still kept you on a tight leash, but not so tight that you probably couldn’t sneak off to a new station on an off day.

Stress begins to eat away at you, affecting you mentally just as much as it is physically. You train in the evening since you can no longer train with Zenos, learning your lesson to not lose your edge in any way possible. Without Zenos being your boss Lyngsath no longer prepares your nutritious meals, and you give the chef an embarrassed smile as you request for him to keep the menu you had grown to love. Varis’ offerings of saltier and fattier foods had begun to make you sick, disrupting your focus.

Your routine had suffered, no longer having to wake up in the morning to train and start the day with Zenos. Some nights you would suffer from insomnia, pouring over your notes and what Varis’ end goal could possibly be, being too tired to even do things such as take your daily vitamins or birth control. Not that the birth control mattered. Not like you were getting any, and your sexual frustration had started to take its toll as well.

What did you give someone who had it all? As Varis was more than happy to let you know, there was nothing material in the world he could not obtain. Women threw themselves at him. He had cars, money, property.

But he didn’t have you.

“Var--” you begin, clearing your throat as he turns to you with an annoyed look. “Lord Varis.”

Immediately, his expression lightens.

You stand in his office at the high rise, his own room nearly three times as large as Zenos’, and that was saying something. Just like his son, he left you to your own devices, content to do his work quietly at his desk. “Now that I’ve followed you for so long, I’ve realized that you do have the makings of a...fierce politician.”

He seems to glow at your compliment, somehow sitting a little straighter. “Is that so?”

Swallowing, you make your way toward his desk, not breaking your stare off for a second. “Indeed. I’ve found myself watching, wondering what you could possibly be running for. You make plenty of promises for the common man, but you also look out for the upper rung as well.” You pause, running your fingers along the back of a couch. “What could a man who already has so much, possibly want? What would becoming prime minister of Kugane do for you? Your name is already known. You are already on the verge of a technological breakthrough with your research in aether. And yet, somehow I cannot pinpoint your goal.” Tilting your head cutely, you give him a clueless look. “What could it possibly be?”

Varis studies you for a moment, eyes roving up and down your body, desire evident in his gaze. However, he still seems to mull whatever he has to say in his mind. As you near the desk, you sway your hips, watching as his skepticism is overcome with lust. “I suppose my plans would elude you, wouldn’t they?”

The last thing your bodyguard uniform is is sexy, being a simple pantsuit and all. It doesn’t seem to matter to Varis at least, who is looking like he is willing to climb over his desk to get to you. Deciding to save him the trouble just in case he does, you sit yourself upon it, maintaining an aloofness that you hope is attractive. “It’s up to you whether I remain in the dark, Lord Varis.”

Rubbing his chin, he sweeps his eyes over you once more, lingering at the curve of your rear upon his desk. “Very well. I will let you in on my innermost workings, Honey. You do belong to me from now on, after all.” Leaning back in his chair, he steeples his fingers in his lap, smirking slightly. “You were on the right track, looking at what I could possibly be using aether for.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small cube, tossing it in front of him.

A hologram of his factories shines before you, eyes hurting a bit as they adjust to the sudden brightness. “As you know, aether is the very air, water, land. It is renewable, and therefore endless. How does this differ from already existing renewable energy?” The image changes before you, shifting to show several scientific diagrams. “The specifics would be lost on you, but in short, it is the same logic that you gain more nutrients from a raw carrot than one you have cooked. By harnessing aether itself, we are tapping directly into the source, the nutrients so to speak.”

“And you are using this to revolutionize renewable energy?” You ask, sounding as hopeful as possible, knowing he was about to say something absolutely deplorable.

“For the masses, yes. This will revolutionize and rethink how we use energy. We might even be rid of ceruleum entirely.” Grinning, he waggles a finger. “But that is thinking on too small a scale.” The image shifts once again, showing different bits of weaponry, from tanks to jet fighters to guns. “Aether as a source of energy will mean that industrial output will be produced at rates unheard of, once thought impossible. Already, my teams are working on improving upon pre-existing military technology…” He chuckles to himself for a moment, “...To sell the highest bidder of course.”

You can barely hide your fear, hoping he does not sense it as you stare in horror at the images displayed before you. “And...how does this fit into your plans for Kugane as its leader?”

“Ah yes...with my technology, Kugane will be begging to keep me as their leader. The city has suffered under shifting leadership. Garlemald in its glory was a nation to be feared and respected. We brought civilization to savage societies the world over, only possible through the power of the iron fist of the emperor.” You jolt as he smashes the cube, disrupting the image instantly, sending the lights scattering. “A seat that should’ve been mine. A seat that I intend to hold permanently.”

Turning away, you know you can’t control how you look right now.

He was mad.

Reaching up to clutch your heart, it's racing inside your chest, pounding from the terror you feel just being in the same room as this monster.

“It is why I require all staff to address me as Lord Varis.” You hear him hum behind you, hitting a button on his phone that will summon a janitor to clean up his mess. “They should get used to calling me such when I do ascend to my seat of power. One, that I hope you will be there to see, Honey.”

Swallowing, you clutch your chest a little tighter, forcing your best smile on your face. Turning to him, you grin with clenched teeth. “Of course, Lord Varis.”

“The very fabric of the star is beginning to fray. We must do something--”

Is this...a dream?

“The sacrifice of our people is too high a cost! Why save the star if they are not there to see it?”

The sky is burning, shades of reds and oranges glowing overhead. The air smells of ash and fire, and strangely of some sort of meat…

It is to your horror you realize it is the smell of burning flesh.

“It is not permanent! We can bring back those who were sacrificed! By His will!”

Skyscrapers reach high in the sky, though you are not familiar with their style. Even as they begin to collapse and burn before your very eyes, they are still beautiful and...familiar.

“We could’ve avoided all of this in the first place if you had listened! I told you our power of creation had to come from somewhere! It is a finite resource and it is destroying the star!”

Your own voice…?

The world shakes beneath you, a horrid screech fills the air. Your eyes widen as a terrifying creature surfaces from behind the building before you, staring you down as throngs of people try to flee past you.

“I won’t stand for this!”

Your voice continues to echo in your head.

“There must be another way!”

Gasping, you jolt yourself awake, lungs stinging as you nearly hyperventilate, drawing in icy, cold air.

“Honey, please breathe.”

Gentle hands cup your face, soothing in how warm they are despite the bitter cold. As your eyes begin to focus you find yourself looking at swirling red ones, a mote of worry in them as their frostbitten hair blows in the wind.

Reaching up you grab tightly to his wrists, needing something to ground you in reality. The dream had felt so real, as if you had actually been there. The heat of the flames upon your skin, the piercing cry of the monster before you ringing in your ears, never had you had a nightmare so vivid and clear.

“Are you alright?”

Elidibus looks to be genuinely concerned, using his warm hands to heat up your icy ears. Turning slightly you realize you had dozed off at your favorite spot on the grounds, underneath a pagoda in a far corner of the gardens. On your days off it would be your place to go and center yourself, or simply enjoy the sun, but for now served as your place to think and plot with a little less worry of being watched. As far as you could tell, there were significantly less cameras out here, at least ones you could see. Snow blankets the landscape, nearly pristine and untouched if not for your few footprints left behind.

Eyes sliding back to Elidibus, you blink a few times, saying nothing as you gather your thoughts. “What are you doing out here?”

Releasing your face, you let go of his wrists as he stands to his full height once more. “I could ask the same of you.” He frowns, brows pinched together. His worry for you makes you feel a little guilty, forcing you to look away in shame.

“I was just...thinking.” You grumble, shoving your hands in your coat pocket. “I always come out here. Even now that the weather’s grown cold. It’s a good place to organize my thoughts.” Frowning yourself, you take note of his attire as he moves to sit beside you. “Aren’t you cold?”

Taking account of how he still stands in his perfectly white suit trimmed with gold, he gives himself a once over before shrugging. “Immortality leaves you immune to many things.”

Tilting your head, you give him a small smile. “Feeling comfortable, are we?”

“You’ve always been quick as a whip. In fact, I would say this is probably the most you I’ve seen in quite some time.” He beams, snowflakes landing in his near violet hair. “What has you stressed?”

Pursing your lips, you turn away from him, staring out into the falling snow. “I can’t tell you. As...familiar as you feel. You work too closely with Varis.”

Elidibus follows suit, staring out onto the landscape, the wind howling in your ears. “Is that so?”

Growling you give him a heavy shove, baring your teeth at him. “Of course it is! He’s a fucking monster! Even you have to see that, Elidibus!” You snap, unable to explain why you feel so strongly, so betrayed. “How could you possibly stand to work with him?!”

“For the same reason you are, I’m sure.” Elidibus responds without hesitation, red eyes seeing right through you. You gasp, shocked into silence knowing he’s already figured out your game despite you not breathing a word to him about it. “While I did expect you to take action, I did not expect you to do so by partnering yourself with Varis. As usual, you have always surprised me.” His expression softens slightly, finally looking back to you. “As usual, you are one to admire.”

While your heart floods with warmth at his words, you remain focused on what he had said. “Are you...also using Varis?” you ask quietly, eyes pleading for him to tell you, that for once he won’t be so cryptic.

By the smile on his face, you know he’s going to deny your wish before he even opens his mouth. “In a way yes. As I had said, we are not so different, Honey. Varis is merely means to an end.” His expression darkens slightly, turning back toward the mansion sitting upon the hill. “Though, my reasons are hardly so noble.”

By the tone of his voice, you don’t know what he means, and honestly, don’t want to find out. If anything, he’s made you aware that he knows of your plans, but will not interfere. In a way, maybe he’s on your side. “I see.”

Elidibus gives you a comforting pat on the hand before standing, looking every bit as ethereal and ancient as you know him to be. “Though I must keep my interference to a minimum, that does not mean I do not worry about you, now that I have found you.” Peering at you from over his shoulder, he fixes you with a sly look. “That said, I think you should try repairing your relationship with the young master.”

Embarrassment washes through you immediately, somehow feeling like a parent being chastised by their child. “He doesn’t want to speak to me. He doesn’t want me.”

“Anything worth having must be worked for.” He responds, turning to lay a gentle hand upon your shoulder. “Varis has poisoned anything he has touched, including his own son. If anyone can get through to him, it is you.” Giving you a knowing smile, he squeezes you gently. “After all, even your reasons are not entirely noble are they? Even you are a little selfish.”

You want to save him.

Nodding, you take a deep breath, standing to your feet. “You’re right. Thank you, Elidibus.”

Before releasing you, he gives you one last comforting squeeze. “You will find the right path. You always have. That has not changed about you.” Turning once more, he begins to make his way through the snow, his white suit blending in until it seems like he vanishes into the scenery, like he was never there at all.

Sighing, you decide to take him up on his advice, staving off the nausea you can feel as your nerves begin to eat at you with every step you take back toward the mansion. You had no idea if Zenos was even here, and if he was, where he would be. Maybe you could catch up to him another time.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, you trip on a root hidden beneath the snow, falling face first into the frozen fluff. Sitting up as you spit dead grass and frigid water out your mouth, you grumble at the universe, knowing a sign when you saw it. Picking yourself up, you hurry into the mansion, running to change and get out of your clothes now that they have been bogged down by snow. You would make a point to talk to him today, but you needed time to even think about what you would say. A good workout was sure to get the blood pumping and thoughts flowing.

Changed into a pair of biker shorts and a simple tank top over your sports bra, you head to the personal gym, breathing a sigh of relief as you realize it’s blessedly empty. You were nowhere near ready to confront him quite yet, and could use a few more precious hours of solitude to work yourself up to the idea.

You begin by slipping into your yoga stretches, the motions fluid and practiced after Zenos had all but beat them into you with weeks of repetition. In moments you find your center, entering a zen state, body shifting into each position without thinking. Eyes closed, the white noise of the room begins to fade away as your thoughts turn inward, looking deep within yourself. You finish just under ten minutes, taking a moment to decide what to do next, gazing at one of the far walls. Perhaps running through katas with a sword? It had been a minute since you had the chance to practice your weapon skills.

Heading over to the wall, you run your fingers across the intricate scabbards, admiring the craftsmanship beneath your fingertips. You and Zenos had never practiced with real swords of course, making you wonder if these specifically were for show in the room. He seemed fond of collecting them, keeping several of them in rotation whenever you went to visit other gangs.

Just as you begin to admire another, you hear the door open, thinking it to perhaps be a maid coming to clean. Once your eyes land on a mop of blonde hair however, you find yourself desperately wishing it was.You forget to breathe as you make contact with blue eyes, finding they do not look upon you with the same affection they once had.

“What are you doing here?” Zenos seethes, glaring at you with enough malice to make the room feel like it's as frigid as it is outside. He begins to stalk toward you slowly, eyes never leaving you, slinking with all the grace of a predator creeping in for the kill.

You keep even steps with him, forcing the two of you to circle each other, hands gently raised in a show of peace. “I didn’t know you were coming. I had been doing some training, I thought you were out,” you quickly explain, voice trembling, “a-and I’d like to talk.”

“There’s nothing you could say that would be worth hearing.” He growls, trying to close the circle tighter, the hairs on the back of your neck raising as if you are standing face to face with a storm before it grows into a tornado, threatening to destroy all in its path.

“I...Zenos, please, just let me explain,” You beg, throat straining in your effort to not cry, finding nothing of the man you once knew in those eyes. He looks as if he hates your very guts, and truthfully, with how long you had been from his side without saying anything, with how you promised to stay by him--

He just might.

“What is there to explain? Want to tell me how I’m not good enough for you? I hope my father’s dick is worth it.” He spits, growing angrier with each word, the air charged with tension.

Setting your jaw, you try to stand your ground. “I’m not doing any such thing with your father! I only want you--” you scream as he suddenly rushes you, bending backwards at the knee to barely dodge his right hook. Keeping with your momentum you back flip away from his leg sweep, nearly stumbling in your effort to dodge another fist. “Zenos!”

Through talking, Zenos pursues you like a man possessed, murder in his eyes as he gives you no quarter. Gritting your teeth you go on the defensive, blocking his shots, being forcibly reminded just how hard he can hit. It wasn’t to say he totally held back, but the two of you had agreed to never use your full power on one another so you wouldn’t wake up aching and sore each morning. You hadn’t felt this strength since he had first recruited you, your heart pounding furiously as he shows you just why he was feared by all.

His strikes are precise, calculated, leaving minimal openings for you to exploit. Due to the two of you sparring with each other so often, you know all of his favorite moves and what he’s willing to try, but so does he where you are concerned. Any surprise attack you want to try is immediately rebuffed, but you can see his mounting frustration as you give no opening for him to exploit. “Zenos, stop it!”

“I’ll stop after I’ve killed you.” He murmurs, though you can hear the rage in those words no matter how softly he speaks. “I’ve tired of my father taking what does not belong to him.”

Your heart lurches at that, wishing you could just tell him everything. There were too many risks, too many unknown factors at stake. What if he considered you being a cop an even bigger betrayal? What if he--

You’re given no time to think on the possibilities as Zenos comes at you harder, his strikes vicious and fierce, doing everything in his power to break your guard. You up your defense, feeling a buzz in the back of your head that you knew had always been there when you fought, but paid little attention to. The harder he came, the slower his attacks seemed, beginning to move in slow motion before your very eyes.

Yelling with each strike now, he let his frustration show, doing his best to make you falter. “Why are you so strong?” He roars, and somehow his intent to kill is less frightening than watching him lose his cool. You had never seen him this emotional, this vulnerable, this crazed. “Why can I never beat you?!”

“I don’t even want to fight!” You snap, finally finding the opening you need as his guard breaks with his emotional outburst. Grasping him by his wrist as he strikes out, you strike him hard in the sternum with your palm, surprising yourself with your strength as he slides back along the floor, looking shocked himself.

You both stand there in silence, you, looking at your hand, unsure where that sudden burst of strength had come from. Turning to Zenos, he hangs his head, his curtain of hair blocking his face from view. Still keeping your guard up, you think about approaching him until a maniacal laugh bubbles first, building into a crazed crescendo. Drawing himself up, you gasp as his eyes glow a fierce red.

His sclera has gone black, and you faintly notice his tattoo faintly glowing from beneath his shirt, the air feeling charged with a strange energy. True fear fills you now, not at whatever power he is harnessing, but the fact he had hidden it from you all this time. Licking his lips, he stares you down, his frenzied eyes mixed with violence and admiration both. “Oh the things you do to me…” he chuckles, stalking toward you once more.

The buzz in the back of your head turns into an insistent hum now, the back of your neck tingling as if in response to his power. Once again you keep your distance, not allowing him to get any closer to you, hands still upraised, ready to block. “Z-Zenos,”

“As much as I hate you right now, I cannot deny that I am overjoyed.” He snickers, cracking his knuckles before doing the same to his neck. “I haven’t used the Resonant in a long time.”

Your brows pinch together in visible confusion, too many questions wanting to burst forth. At the top of the list being are you okay?

“I’ve dreamed about this. Practically stroked myself raw of what it would be like to truly unleash my full potential in combat.” He grins, his lips pulling in a disconcerting way. “As aggravating it had been being unable to beat you, not knowing the source of your strength, you, a mere mortal…”

Your heart stops as he’s suddenly before you, your eyes too fast to even catch it.

The way he moved--

It wasn’t possible--

“W-What,” you tremble, backing away from him, eyes wide as saucers. “What’s going on?”

Howling with laughter again, Zenos bows, arms outstretched. “Why do you look so afraid? Unable to come to terms with the fact you’ve been fucking a literal monster?”

Despite your fear, you won’t stand for those words. “You’re not a monster!” you cry, more scared than you’d like to admit.

“Oh? You were so convinced before.” He grins, using the same inhumane speed he had before to sock you in the gut, stars dotting your vision as you swear you feel the literal wind knocked from you. Stumbling back you fight to catch your breath, unsure what to do. Nothing could have prepared you for this.

“Zenos,” you wheeze, the humming turning into a full on roar, the burning sensation on the back of your neck increasing, eyes unfocused as you try to regain your bearings. “Zenos, please,”

“Please what?” He taunts, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Please stop? Why should I when I finally have the battle I’ve craved for so long?” He hisses, red eyes narrowing upon your beaten form. “I had refrained from using this power because I wanted to beat you with my own might. I wanted to surpass you with my own strength. I knew that with this power, I could hur--” he pauses, frowning slightly. “Because I knew I could break every bone in your body.”

“We don’t have to fight,” you beg, voice small and afraid, knowing you are pleading in vain, but trying anyway. You can see the pain in his eyes, can see that he is lashing out and communicating the only way he knows how. His blows show his anger, his pain, his fear. Guilt slows your movements, bringing your fists up, eyes sliding closed for just a moment.

Hear…

No.

You refuse to use this borrowed power on him. You refuse to not show him the same grace he had been showing you all this time, while you had used your blessing to stay one step ahead of him.

Feel…

No, no, no!

Even as he nears you, even as he rushes you down, you fight against the burning sensation on your neck urging you to call forth on that ancient power. Even as your bones feel as if they will break, as if you’re losing feeling in your limbs, you refuse to do this--

Not when you hurt him.

“I’m not going to fight you!” You yell, blocking one of his attacks, growing weaker and weaker by the second.

Frowning, his fists clench tighter. “Then you will die.”

Relentless, he pursues you breaking your form until he knocks you into the ground, pouncing on top of you like a couerl. His hands lock around your throat immediately, your own weakly grasping at his as he begins to tighten his hold on your neck. “You promised.” He whispers, growling low. “You promised.”

Tears begin to leak at your eyes, thinking that maybe, you did deserve this. You did break your promise to him. He had confided so much in you, had cherished you in a way no one else could. That for even all his faults, you had dared to imagine a future with him. A future where he didn’t do his father’s bidding, a future where the two of you could be happy.

You had let all the trust you had worked so hard to build between the two of you go to waste.

Going limp beneath him, you accept your fate. If anything, at least you had died by his hand. In your heart, you had found out the truth, even if you could not make Varis pay for it. Cid would be heartbroken to hear about this, but maybe he would understand.

“Z-Zenos,” you rasp, vision darkening around the edges as you gaze up into his pained red eyes. “I-I’m s-sorry.” you whisper, feeling his grip on you get tighter. Your vision gets darker, it gets harder to breathe. Your breath comes in small gulps, no longer able to even try your futile attempts to pull his hands from your throat.

As you lose consciousness, the burning on your neck ceases, Zenos’ eyes going wide in shock. You believe you see the beginning of tears in his eyes, but your world goes dark before you can find out.

Your world is black, no matter where you turn. There is no end, and you wonder if this is what death is truly like.

Cold, empty, alone.

Exhausted.

At least now, you can rest. Though how disappointing is it that you don’t even get the glory of seeing what comes after death? Unless, this is it of course. You had killed men after all. And even the ones you didn’t kill, you had maimed so far beyond repair that surely you had racked up enough bad karma in just over a year than anyone had in their lifetime.

You don’t get to see Minfilia. Tell her you had found out what happened to her in the end. That you were ready to avenge her, but your own heart was too weak.

Do you truly think you have no strength?

Of course you don’t. You spent your whole life fighting to learn the truth and had died because of it, accomplishing nothing.

You are stronger than this. More than this.

Ha. If you were, you wouldn’t be dead.

So many people need you. Are you truly going to give up?

Why wouldn’t you? All you had brought was suffering. To Minfilia, to Ardbert, to Cid, to...to…

They would be sadder without you. They would be miserable without you.

He would be sadder without you. He would be miserable without you.

You need to wake up.

My Warrior of Light, you need to wake up.

Gasping as you regain consciousness for the second time that day, you shoot upright, finding it is still dark. You feel like you’re still in that dark place, except you feel something soft beneath you...a bed?

Reaching behind you, your hands come into contact with the lamp on your nightstand, flipping the switch to let light into the room. The alarm on the bedside table reads that it is nearly 3AM, but the clouds block the moon from the sky.

You’re alive.

Checking yourself over, you find that you feel no aches, no pains, as if you hadn’t battled to the death with Zenos hours ago. But has it been hours? How long has it been?

A little more awake now, you notice the humming again, the burning sensation from earlier now tingling on the back of your neck. Jumping out of bed you dash into the bathroom, grabbing a hand mirror from the vanity. Angling it to where you see your reflection in both mirrors, you see the edge of a tattoo peeking from the back of your shirt, the markings intricate and unnatural. A distant memory tries to surface, but your head hurts trying to bring it forth, and so you let it be.

Just as you let the memory slip through your fingers does the tattoo cease glowing its angry red, fading back into your skin as if it were never there at all. No matter how you run your fingers over your skin it does not appear, and for a moment you wonder if you were hallucinating. Something deep within tells you otherwise, that it is there, just like your powers, waiting for you.

Feeling as mentally exhausted as you are physically, you splash some water on your face, your mind an empty space as you drift back toward your bed. Stepping back into your room, you raise a single eyebrow as you notice a folded note upon your desk that you know had definitely not been there this morning.

Crossing your room to reach it, you pick it up, twirling it in your fingers as if you would find some strange magic on it. Given how the day went, you wouldn’t be surprised, but it is fortunately just a plain piece of paper. Opening it up, you immediately recognize the handwriting folded within.

The next time I see you, I will make sure to kill you for good.

To anyone else, it would be a serious threat, but all you can feel is hope.

Because somewhere inside, Zenos had it bad for you just as much as you did for him, and couldn’t bring himself to kill you.

You would find a way to get you both out of this mess.

That was a promise you were determined to keep.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #THP

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athenaquinn · 4 years ago

Text

Chosen || Shiloh & Athena

TIMING: Just before Christmas (December 2020) LOCATION: Shiloh’s home PARTIES: @evanescentform and @athenaquinn SUMMARY: More questions get answered. Alternatively, *eyes emoji*. CONTENT: mentions of parental death, mentions of past abuse, brief internalized homophobia

Shiloh had recalled once upon a time she had agreed to do some baking with Athena - that agreement itself felt like years ago. While she really hardly had the energy for it, she knew she shouldn’t reject an offer to do something considering most of her day was spent asleep. If she was going to get out of this slump, she had to do things like this. Baking was fun right? She remembered how much fun it was and while her most recent attempt didn’t turn out so great, this time she was going to do it with a friend. What could go wrong? Thankfully, Athena gave her some time to clean up and have her place not look like a mess. Shiloh was hardly one to keep a mess so the fact that she had clothes lying about and unwashed dishes here and there was frankly, very embarrassing. So once the place looked more or less clean, she went into the shower and managed to get ready just in time to hear a knock at her door. The knock caused Jiji to run up the stairs and Shiloh couldn’t help but smile at her shy cat as she heard his bell jingle up the stairs. Opening, her smile widened to greet Athena. “Hey, it’s good to see you. Come in,” she gestured for her to step inside out of the cold.

She was still curious about Shiloh after all these months. After the carnival she hadn’t been left with any solid answers and Athena hated that. Hated not knowing things. Shiloh had all but completely disappeared for the past couple of months - and so when she’d heard that Shiloh was back in town, she had quickly reached out - because they’d never gotten around to baking before Shiloh had gone away, and it was as good an excuse as any to get to talk to her again, to get to know her better. To see if she could find any sort of way to answer the questions she still had. She’d brought over a few cookbooks in her tote bag, but otherwise was dressed as normally as possible - wearing a fleece jacket, her fingers fiddling with her ring before she paused and knocked on the door, standing up taller as Shiloh opened the door. She was just slightly taller than Athena, though not so much so that it was too much. “Hey.” She grinned. “I appreciate it,” she moved inside, pulling off her fleece. “I’m glad we’re finally getting to do this!”

A bit of a nervousness washed over Shiloh but it wasn’t strong so it was simple to ignore with a smile. She hadn’t spent time with Athena since the carnival and she was interested in getting to know a potential friend better. It was also nice to spend time with another person because she was becoming a shut in. It didn’t help that last she went out, her nerves - or her “hunter senses” as her cousin explained - felt like she was surrounded. “Yeah, me too. What do we have in store for us today?” Baking made Shiloh feel better. That much was a fact. Sure it was some hard work but the end product was delicious and stuffing her face with sweets seemed like a great way to spend the rest of the day. “I went grocery shopping the other day so my pantry is full of probably anything we could need. All purpose flour, cake flour, spices, sugar….” Shiloh would list it all but Athena got the hint. If anything maybe Shiloh didn’t have food coloring but she didn’t tend to use that anyway when she baked.

“I mean, I’m down for anything.” The nervous energies that seemed to be increasingly present in her life didn’t help that one bit. It didn’t help that something had been feeling a bit off lately, though Athena pushed it aside as excess nerves - from Lydia to Amanda to everything still with her parents, and everything normal on top of that, it was almost too overwhelming, but baking helped with that and she liked Shiloh’s company. Which made her hope and pray that she wasn’t supernatural. “I’m real good with cookies and things like that, but I think we’d talked about maple scones, so if you’d like that we just need maple syrup or something in that vein, so if you have that, awesome! If not, we can do whatever your favorite recipe is.”

“Maple scones sound delicious. I actually have maple syrup.” Shiloh walked over to her cupboard. “I bought it a few days ago cause I wanted to make some gingerbread and maple cookies.” She chuckled at what she would say next. “Haven’t gotten around to gingerbread though.” Grabbing the jar she set it on her island for Athena to inspect and make sure it was what she needed for maple scones. “Maybe we can work on them later if I don’t scare you away with my baking skills.” Not to say Shiloh was unconfident in her capabilities, it’s just that no two people cooked similarly in her mind. Maybe Athena was a mess in the kitchen or maybe Shiloh was the messy one in her eyes. Shiloh didn’t think she made too much of a mess when she baked, but she’d be lying if she said that was one of her priorities when it came to baking. As long as it tasted good, the mess it left was worth it.

“Good. Maple scones it is then.” That was easy, but scones always required a certain level of precision, and that was something that Athena appreciated. Maybe it would mean that they would have some time to talk - though she wasn’t exactly sure how much more she could question Shiloh, or how responsive the woman would be to more poking and prodding. “I don’t think you’ll scare me away with your baking skills. I’m not so easily scared.” She winked. Glancing over to the fridge, she couldn’t help but notice a small rainbow flag stuck on with a magnet. That much pulled at her curiosity, but she certainly wasn’t about to ask anything, at least not yet. She hardly used the word bisexual herself yet, even though she knew that was what she was - or that was what it seemed to be. “Gingerbread is good.” Her mother had been big on that. “I’m just relieved you’ll get to try maple scones. It’s a rite of passage.” She smiled, “I mean, not really, but they are a great sort of scone, at least I think so.”

Shiloh knew how to make scones - what kind of English girl would she be if she didn’t know how to make that! She began to grab all the things needed like flour and sugar and bowls and measuring cups. She laid it out on the counter for Athena to inspect. “Do you use anything like cinnamon or vanilla extract in your maple scones?” Shiloh asked as she looked through the cupboards for exactly those ingredients just in case. You never know what might be in one’s recipe won’t be in another’s for the same thing. Shiloh chuckled at Athena’s comment, however. “How are they a rite of passage? Is it something your family makes for the holidays?” That got Shiloh into thinking about some family traditions she had come into contact with. “You know I had an ex girlfriend whose family baked fritters - they have a name I just can’t remember it now - but they were really good and easy to make. I remember I went to their place for the holidays and I impressed them with my skills.” She snorted as she said that last part, surprised she could even recall such a positive memory even if things had long ended with that specific ex.

“We could use a bit of vanilla, why not?” Athena shrugged. She knew that some of the recipes did call for that, and it added a bit of excitement to the whole thing - besides, maple and vanilla were two flavors that blended together well, and she could be completely willing to compromise especially if it meant she’d talk to Shiloh more, possibly be able to figure out if anything was up or if whatever hunch she had was too far-fetched. Which was possible - she did know that she sometimes was quick to judge, and nothing about Shiloh set off her senses, but there was something in the way that the two of them had talked and the way that Shiloh held herself once they’d actually met that made Athena wonder if there was something more. “Oh, just living in Maine is all. My mom makes gingerbread.” Made. “Sorry, made. She - anyhow, no, I just like maple scones and I like to encourage that love on others, too.” At the mention of an ex-girlfriend, Athena’s gaze shifted over to the rainbow flag again. “Oh yeah? That sounds cool! Maybe you’ll have to teach me how to make those sometime. If we do this again, that is, I mean.”

“Oh, are Maine and maple syrup a pair?” Shiloh asked, bringing her index fingers on both hands together as she spoke. She wondered if other American states had a food pairing as well. Her thoughts were interrupted when she caught Athena correcting herself. Shiloh didn’t know what to say. She had experienced a loss herself but that was nothing compared to the loss of a mother. She only knew her cousin for a few months, this was Athena’s mother. Oh boy. “Tell you what, after we do these maple scones today, next time,” Shiloh reassured, “we can do gingerbread in honor of your mother. How does that sound? After that I can show you the fritters. When I remember what they’re called.” Shiloh hoped that would turn the mood around even though Athena seemed to be holding it very well - Shiloh would argue better than she had. But people mourned in different ways. “See - now we have two baking plans in the future!”

“I mean, sort of. Blueberries even more so, but maple syrup is big up here.” Athena watched Shiloh carefully. Maybe she shouldn’t have corrected herself on the mother thing, but her mother had been big in town, and there had been a news article about her, and it didn’t take a lot for Shiloh to find that out. So really, it was on Athena for her phrasing. Except she was now being offered sympathy and she didn’t know how to hold onto that when she wasn’t supposed to be sad for her parents, no matter how much she still put on a face of that. No matter how much she could still hear her parents’ voices sometimes or feel her mother braiding her hair. “No, it’s really fine!” She grabbed one of the bowls for a moment, before setting it back down on the counter. “I’d much rather have the fritters. Those sound new and I’m down to try new things.” She giggled. “But for now, we’ve got to get you to like maple scones.” She looked back over to the fridge. “I, uh, that flag is nice! Have you had it for a while?” She winced at her own awkwardness - she was supposed to know what to say, it was her brother’s job to trip over his words. “Regardless, we should get started. After all, this plan has been in the works for a few months now.”

Blueberries and maple, huh, good to know. Shiloh was taken off guard by how Athena didn’t seem interested in making gingerbread in honor of her dead mother but, like she was well aware, people grieve in different ways. Shiloh was probably pushing her to do something she wasn’t ready for. She was thankful Athena could set her boundaries and decline the offer. “Fritters it is then.” Shiloh let out a small chuckle, hoping to ease her own nerves with that laugh. “I mean, if you want to just make it a two-time thing, I understand.” Shiloh teased with a shrug, trying to make it seem like she was genuinely upset over being unable to bake for a third time with Athena however, Shiloh couldn’t keep her smile contained, giving herself away. At the mention of a flag, Shiloh was confused before turning around to look at her fridge. Her eyes darted from the fridge to Athena with a widening smirk. “Uh, thanks I got it at last year’s pride.” Shiloh said as she started to scoop some flour with a measuring cup. “Hey, I don’t know about you but I think I can multitask being gay and baking.” Shiloh teased.

Neither she nor her brother had ever really been taught how to fully process grief, that much she knew. Athena sighed. “It’s - well, I appreciate you offering, but I think sometimes it’s best to move past things.” Better than yeah, I don’t want to honor my mother because she and my father hurt me and my brother for years and were manipulative and dealing with the fact that I killed them is still really complicated. “Oh, no.” She let her hands fly up to cover her face. “Not what I meant.” She really was tripping over her words in ways that she hadn’t really experienced much at all before today. “That makes sense! Did you go with anyone, or just to see it all?” She couldn’t help but laugh at Shiloh’s next remark. “Yeah, well, I’ve always been good at multitasking.” She took in a deep breath, because she’d used the words around Ariana and her brother, and even, finally, some of her friends, but Shiloh was still someone new. “So being bisexual and multitasking should be just fine.”

“I understand.” Shiloh completely respected whichever way Athena wanted to grieve. After all, it was her own loss. Shiloh was still trying to figure out how to honor her deceased relative. As well as the seemingly loss of her family’s entire bloodline. Prior to her discovery, she was fine honoring her parents just by living the happy life they would have wanted for her but now she was wondering if they would have wanted another life for her and she couldn’t help but feel she was disappointing them in some way. At the very same time she wasn’t sure she could stomach killing living beings, be them supernatural or not. “I did, I went with a girl I was seeing at the time and a few friends.” Shiloh answered with a nod realizing that Athena nerves might be for a reason other than that Shiloh was still a relatively strange person to her. Athena was gay as well and given how much it took for her to say that, Shiloh was betting on her own discovery being a new one. It was cute and Shiloh was happy to see it. “If anyone is good at multitasking, I’d give it to the bi’s.” Shiloh joked hoping it might calm Athena’s nerves a bit.

“Good.” Athena nodded. Shiloh might have been one of the most confusing people that she’d met, but at least she seemed to take almost anything that Athena threw at her in stride. She only hoped that she wasn’t secretly some sort of supernatural creature, because she did like spending time with her, and Athena wasn’t sure if she could handle being close with too many supernatural beings. “That sounds nice!” Was she trying too hard? She hoped that she didn’t come off that way, because being seen as over-eager only got one so far. “Good one.” She raised an eyebrow. “No wonder I’ve always been good at it.” It was okay to joke about something like that, right? No matter how much she was okay with accepting it, there was a certain part of her that felt like she was wrong for what she was, like this made her less of a golden child (though being less golden in her parents’ eyes might have not been so bad, given everything). “I mean, I’ve been cooking in some capacity since I was basically in preschool, though back then it was a lot more just cracking eggs and dumping the ingredients into a bowl. At least now I’m allowed to use the stove.” She winked at Shiloh. “I think my parents had me bake because it got me to chill out - sometimes I had a hard time concentrating as a kid, though at home was always better.” Of course, any of her concentration issues had always been due to anything supernatural around her, but being given things to concentrate on or think about that weren’t that certainly hadn't hurt.

Shiloh chuckled, resting easy that the nerves were all gone from both of them. Maybe. It was better to keep things light. No talking about dead relatives. Shiloh needed this, some normal, easy time where the most nerve wracking thing was telling someone you were gay. Shiloh understood the fear that came with it. You never knew how someone would react. Thankfully Shiloh had been blessed with a pair of incredibly supportive parents. Not everyone was so lucky. “Oh really? So better than sit you in front of a tv they just put you in the kitchen?” Shiloh asked with a smile wondering if that may have been a gender thing too… but she would rather believe her parents were good people than not. The last thing she needed was to bring up a dead parent’s bad side. “You know I was always an active kid growing up. I could never sit still. My parents put me in sports and ever since I did that my restless energy was just sapped. They couldn’t take a little kid just running around the house, I guess. Sent me outside.” She joked about her parent’s intentions although she recalled her cousin saying things about hyperactivity and being a hunter. It made the fact that she had been feeling drained even more worrisome. Before she would hardly ever stay in bed past 7am. Now she was getting close to sleeping in until the early evening and late afternoon.

Athena fiddled with her necklace this time, her fingertips twisting the small golden cross around and around. “In fairness, I like baking more than I like TV anyhow. Besides, it lets me have more control over how things turn out than watching a show does. You can’t decide what happens for that, but you can when it comes to baking.” She gave a small, half-shrug, dropping her hands from her necklace. It was true - she knew that even as a child, she’d needed to have some sort of control over everything around her - which was part of why everything that was going on now, while not incredibly large in the grand scheme of things, unnerved her so much. “I’ve done soccer practically since I could walk and then I started track in middle school and I did field hockey in high school, so I get you.” Her face scrunched up. It was reading too much into it, it had to be. “I’m lucky that my parents knew how to handle me, and also that they told my teachers that my concentration issues were due to me having a higher understanding of the material - which meant sometimes I could go to the gym if I finished my work early back in elementary school. Which meant a lot of trips there, because I finished my work early a lot.” She made her way over to the sink, giving her hands another quick rinse off.

Shiloh tilted her head as Athena went into detail about her childhood. It was interesting. The need for control, the fact that whenever she’d finish her work she’d go to the gym. “It sounds like you must’ve made your parents very proud.” While it was a little strange Athena did seem someone who was successful even in her youth. “I did horrible in school.” Shiloh added with a smile, knowing it was a complete opposite to what Athena’s experience was but her family never placed their affections on how well she did in school just that she was a good person. That’s what was important. “I suppose it was some sort of anxiety, which I received medication for it later in life but I just couldn’t focus. Every little thing, a sound, a smell, it was too distracting for me to pay attention. I used to get the worst migraines over it.” Shiloh’s brows furrowed as she recalled the difficulties she had growing up. Her parents were always supportive of their daughter but it didn’t mean they had all the answers. “It got better when I joined sports. Which is around the time I started to take medication and things were easier to just… turn off. Like I didn’t have to listen to every sound in the world - I can focus on what I needed to.” Shiloh ended it with a shrug. “Plus girls proved to be something I found my attention easily centered on, so.”

“Well, they did say I was their golden child!” Athena shrugged, her hair falling over her shoulders. “Sorry, too much enthusiasm.” Maybe, in another life, she would have been that way - over-enthusiastic in the most genuine of ways. Not falsely put on - though she could be enthusiastic about certain topics, so much of it was to keep up her family’s image - and sometimes she found that she still didn’t really know where her parents’ image for her stopped and whoever she - Athena Joan Quinn - was began. But that was far too much to think about in the middle of baking and accidentally coming out to someone all in one. “Everyone’s different, I guess?” She shrugged, though her lips did purse to the side at the mention of focus - of smell - and she knew that Shiloh wasn’t a werewolf and though Athena was aware of other species who had heightened senses but she also knew that she did - her whole family did, and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “This is gonna sound, like, super weird,” but I don’t care, “did your lack of focus ever pick up more around certain people - I mean, like - other than thinking about other girls. I - well, I think I did that too. Maybe. Not that,” she felt her cheeks flush, “I mean, not my point - did you ever feel restless or like your skin was crawling?” Was this too much to ask? Probably, but now that she was out with it, she wasn’t about to dial it back. She didn’t do that - much like she didn’t apologize, though at least that had started to change - just slightly - but backing down from something seemed useless, and if she had messed something up with all of this - well, then she could simply never talk to Shiloh again.

Shiloh had to stop what she was doing and listen because from what she was saying it felt… relatable. “Restless like you can’t relax?” Shiloh tried to think about it when she was growing up and she recalled feeling it once when her parents and her went hiking and she woke up in the middle of the night in the tent and started bawling her eyes out and wanted to go home. But that was it. She didn’t feel it again until… she moved here. She looked up at Athena and met her eyes - that probably said it all. “I haven’t really not been restless since I moved here. I thought it was just my medication…” She trailed out as she inhaled deeply. “But it was something else.” Did Athena know what it was? Did she seem like a complete idiot and Athena had no clue what she was talking about? She could only wait and see how she responded to all this and in that moment Shiloh didn’t know how to feel.

“Sort of, yes.” Athena nodded. If they were getting somewhere, she didn’t want to back away from it now. She didn’t especially want to think of all the times when she’d been little and even though she’d know what she was for as long as she could remember, being surrounded by the feeling of wanting to crawl out of her own skin when she was just trying to concentrate on schoolwork had never been something fun. Even if it was for a better purpose, in the long run. “It’s probably not your medication.” She remembered - from ages ago - Shiloh mentioning that she was adopted, which could explain the lack of knowledge on many fronts. “Sometimes, even after living here my whole life, I still feel extra restless.” Especially lately. “It wasn’t your medication.” She reaffirmed, repeating herself. “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, straight up. “Do you know what it was?” Baking briefly forgotten, she shifted to look up at Shiloh. “I - well, based on all you’re saying, I might have an idea, but you can trust me. You can tell me.”

Shiloh chewed on the inside of her lip. She hadn’t told anyone this yet and the fact was she wanted to tell someone so bad. Shiloh never really had problems trusting others but she had been told to be wary to tell others supernatural things but maybe since this was concerning herself she didn’t have to be so secretive. She just worried Athena would hate her if she found out. “Uh, I found out about my parent’s past. What they were. What… I guess that makes me.” Come on, just out with it. She looked up at Athena, realizing she was worried about getting judged by someone younger than her - not that her opinion didn’t matter but… Athena was young and hopefully more open-minded. But how was she to start everything? Should she explain the supernatural? “My parents were something called hunters. They were killed by things they hunted and… I was taken in by two loving people. But I’m not… normal. That’s what my cousin told me. He was like them. Like me.”

She watched Shiloh carefully - though she’d always been one for action (too much waiting around made her feel antsy, even still - no matter how steady-handed she had the ability to be), Athena also knew that she excelled at observing others. That just simple observation could tell a great deal about someone, regardless of whether or not they were supernatural or not. Her parents had always believed that was the best way to exploit someone’s weaknesses. Watch and then act. Athena knew that she’d leaned more into the act side of it all. Perhaps that was part of why her father had wanted her to watch his surgeries so much. Patience does us good too, Athena. She could hear his voice just as she looked right over at Shiloh. Her fingers found her ring - a reminder of one of her moments of failure, but also a reminder of why she had to keep to keep going - and they fiddled with it, waiting to see what Shiloh was going to say. Even though she was practically positive she knew what she was going to say. She offered a small, genuine smile to Shiloh. And there it was. Hunters. She kept her expression neutral for a moment, waiting to see if Shiloh had more to say. Cousin. Followed by a reminder that she’d been adopted - by perhaps two humans, which would explain why Shiloh had been so confused about her lack of focus. About how she’d had struggles in school, and for a moment Athena frowned. These people had been unaware of Shiloh’s gift. “It’s okay.” She let a smile cross her face again. “I know I was right about there being something about you.” Another nod. “I’m one too.” She moved her hand to rest against Shiloh’s arm. “This means that you are extraordinary, you know that? Also, if you need help, I’m always happy to offer tips and tricks. First one. Don’t just go telling everyone about that.”

Athena was smiling. Why was she smiling? Shiloh felt on the verge of throwing up at knowing this - how could anyone be happy to hear this. Wait - did she hear her right? “You’re a hunter?” Shiloh asked just to make sure she had heard her correctly. Maybe this was why she was smiling. This 100% was why she was smiling. She took Athena in with that knowledge. This girl had had suspicions about her and she was a hunter. Did she even want to be friends or was she just trying to find something out. But she wanted to be friends now, right? Athena had always been nice to her, so it couldn’t have been a lie. “I-I don’t know.” She said as she shook her head. “My cousin tried to teach me - did teach me something so I can protect myself but when I killed -” She closed her eyes realizing that Athena had no idea what had conspired between her and her cousin. “I killed something. Someone.” It was someone. Someone was that thing. It wasn’t a thing at all. “I don’t know if I can do it again.” I don’t want to. Shiloh didn’t realize tears were coming down her face until a drop fell on her hand. She immediately started wiping her eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been… a lot lately.” It was all overwhelming. She was nine years old again and crying because everyone and everything was too loud. “But thank you… for not hating me.”

“Yes.” Athena replied - there was no need to dance around it now. They were both hunters and she felt incredibly relieved. Even if Shiloh was stammering and seemed less sure of herself than usual. Not that Athena really had much of a usual to base things from, given that she didn’t know the woman all too well, but she liked to think of herself as naturally gifted in reading people (at least as much as she could be), and whatever was going on now was different than at the carnival, even when Athena had actually spiked Shiloh’s slushie with silver just to see if she reacted. Something, not someone. It’s no longer someone, once you’ve done away with them, and even if it is, what does it matter? Except that Shiloh was new to all of this and that meant that overwhelming her with more information was probably not the best choice for right now. “It’s a learning curve.” She couldn’t remember if she’d cried the first time she’d killed something - which had happened before she and her brother started their proper hunting. Couldn’t remember if she’d cried when watching her father’s operations, but she didn’t think she had. Even at age six, she’d watched with intense fascination, committing everything that he did to memory, just in case he asked about it after. “Don’t - you don’t have to say sorry, Shiloh. It’s fine.” Wonderful, sacred, beautiful, even. “I wouldn’t hate you for that, never.”

Shiloh swallowed roughly and nodded as she regained composure. It was a relief to know there was someone out there whose first reaction wasn’t rage - not that she had experienced that - yet. But she feared her loved ones’ rejections. Evelyn. Skylar. Sniffling, she felt okay to talk now. “I have a lot of questions,” Shiloh started. Even with her cousin she asked far more questions than even he had answers for. A lot of her questions would probably forever remain unanswered. “But, the first thing I wanna ask is--can we bake these maple scones first because I’m starting to get hungry.” She let out a soft chuckle hoping that the redirection would turn the conversation back to a positive note. And normal. “I’m just not ready to talk about hunter things right now, but thank you so much for giving me a chance to.” Shiloh appreciated that tremendously and right now she was forever thankful of Athena and hoped the two of them could have a good friendship in the future.

#wickedswriting #c shiloh #chatzy #chosen #parent death tw #abuse tw #internalized homophobia tw #// alyssa is a gem #this chatzy was :---)#v interesting #but v much just two normal folks baking

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 5 years ago

Text

Empires on the Horizon VII

Jason is a CEO: Part VII

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

The next two parts are hella long. Enjoy my loves!

i want to

tangle with you

and fall into you

and feel all of you

your breath, your skin,

your hands, your heart,

your everything...

all of it, all of you

all around me

-butterflies rising

“Good morning Frank, why does it feel like I haven’t seen you in forever?”

“It’s only been a week,” He laughed, “Are you having withdrawal symptoms?”

“I think so,” He nodded gravely, “Heart ache, constant longing, and inability to stop thinking about cars.”

“Sounds like a terrible case.” Frank grinned, pulling the car into the road.

“Shall we grab some coffee to mend our gaped days?” He pouted.

“Reedpipes it is,” Dark eyes sparkled.

“How’s your grandmother?”

“She’s alright, thank you. Stubborn as a mule about going to the old age home but I told her I can’t be worrying about her while she’s alone in that big house. She says if I forget about her she’ll come back to haunt me and make my life miserable.”

Jason giggled and then quickly sobered at his friends look, “Oh she’s serious?”

“As the plague. My grandmother has never been the type to shower you in cookies and sweet hopes. I have no doubt she’ll be pouring river water in my shoes if I even think to forget about her.”

“Well then I better make sure you get as many days off as you need. She may haunt me for working you too hard.”

His friend shoved his shoulder a laugh rasping in his throat.

“What are the plans this week?” He held the door open to allow Frank to pass as they walked into the café.

“Nothing exciting,” He shrugged his shoulders, but Jason noticed the small blush.

“Looks like nothing,” He grinned.

The man stealthily ignored him, saddling up to the counter and engaging in a conversation with their friend.

“Jason Grace,” Grover Underwood greeted brightly, as he did every morning, “You do look much more this morning.”

“Much more what?” He frowned.

The barista gave him a warm, knowing smile, “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a chai,” He muttered, still puzzling over those words.

“And I’ll have a mocha,” Frank mumbled, excusing himself to take a phone call.

“What did you mean by more?”

“These past few months you have looked duller, like someone has taken the wind out of your lungs, the light from your eyes, the storm that sits in your chest. But now you look more. You look alive again.”

Words were a scarce commodity on his tongue, his brain a blunt rock trying to whittle broken toothpicks. Before he could conjure any coherent answer, Frank returned, grabbing their coffees and nudging him to a table.

“I know I haven’t been all that engaged these last few months,” He began, collapsing into his chair and taking in the man across from him. “I’m sorry for that. How are you?”

“We’ve got lives Grace, it happens sometimes.” His friend shrugged, tipping his cup in acknowledgement, “But I’m good thank you. We do need to talk though.”

“This sounds like a breakup. I swear to the gods Frank if you tell me you’re moving across the country or something I am going to murder you.” He narrowed his eyes, body tensing.

Black eyes danced with laughter, “It’s nothing bad, I uh– the thing is Hazel and I are….dating?”

“Oh,” He smiled, “Well that’s great! It’s about time honestly.”

“What?” He blinked in surprise.

“You’ve been pining over her ever since she came to work for me. I may have been preoccupied but I’m not oblivious.” He giggled.

“So you aren’t mad?”

“Mad?” He reeled, “At what? Of course I’m not mad. You are both consenting adults who know how to be professional and more importantly you guys are my friends. I trust you completely.”

“Wow,” Relief flooded through his face, “Thanks Jase.”

“You never have to be afraid to tell me something you know that, right?”

Frank nodded, black hair flopping, “Shall we get to work then?”

Grover’s words were still circling in his mind when they got to work and stayed with him through the day. He had always thought in his days since him and Luke broke up, he had hidden his feelings well enough from the rest of the world. It was a flinching realisation that he had not done as good a job as he had thought, especially if a barista could pick up on it. What had his friends and family known all these months?

***

That evening he walked into his building feeling a mix of conflicting emotions he wasn’t ready to unpack. He gave a distracted nod to the concierge and stepped into the elevator, sending off a final email to end a blissfully productive work week. Leo’s friend Harley was happy to meet and discuss the project and Jason prayed it would all go well. Working with Octavian felt like poison injected into his bloodstream. It left a vile taste in his mouth.

Shaking the thoughts, he walked into his apartment, chucking the keys on the counter and tugging off his tie. This evening he was going to sit down in front of the fire with a book, feet wrapped in fuzzy socks, and a finger of whiskey to savour.

“Jason,”

“FUCK!” He clutched his chest, whipping around “Holy Hades you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” The voice was soft, tired.

“What the fuck are you doing here Piper?”

“Please, please just hear me out.”

“How did you even get in?”

“They let me up. They think we’re still dating.”

He scoffed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “I told you I need some space. Time. I just need time.”

“I understand. I know this is probably creepy, but you weren’t taking my calls and none of our– your friends will help me get a hold of you. I just need to know if you’ll ever hear me out?” She sighed, and then quickly added, “It doesn’t have to be today. I just want to know if you’re willing to listen?”

He didn’t know how to tell her he would rather drown himself in tar than watch her justify their actions. He didn’t know how to tell himself that wasn’t true. He wanted to know why. That question burned like an SOS signal in his brain. Why did they do it? Why did they hurt him?

“I–“ He didn’t know what he wanted. He did. He wanted to sleep, to run away, to throw his name into the wind and let the flowers sing it till it was unrecognisable. He wanted to disappear. “I will hear you out. But I’ll reach out to you, when I’m ready.” He collapsed onto the couch.

She nodded, opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut.

“Is that all?”

She nodded again, turned to leave. “For what it’s worth Jason, I never intended to hurt you and I’m sorry that I did.” Before he had time to formulate a response, she had shut the door quietly behind her. He didn’t hear the soft sob that left his ex-girlfriend as she walked down the passage and out of his life.

He scrambled into the shower, scrubbing off the day with brutal force. He wasn’t sure when his life had turned into a mess of emotions and risks, but he didn’t like it. He wanted his order and discipline back. Wanted to wake up with a run, sign a beneficial contract with a business who cares, and collapse into a warm bed with the feeling of accomplishment and calm that had once followed him. He turned on some music, drowned out the voice in his head that says the life he remembers wasn’t calm it was safe, and it was boring. Some days he felt he’d rather take boring over this. He felt like someone had taken a battering ram to his nerves. But he’s pulled from his spiral by his phone, which dinged softly on the nightstand. Rubbing the towel through his wet hair he picked up the device to see one new message.

Zoe: Hey, was just thinking about you.

He smiled at the screen, thinking about the lady in question. It was too early to say where all this may lead but the butterflies in his stomach and the blush in his cheeks gave him hope.

Jason: All bad things, I hope?

Zoe: You Mr summa cum laude? Mr one party day per two study days? Mr we can’t go into that garden cause it’s private property? ;)

He laughed, half regretting telling her all the goody-two shoes ideals he maintained in college.

Jason: I never should have let you drag that out of me

She sent a laughing emoji back and he fell into bed, holding his phone to his chest. Maybe one day when he runs away to live in the woods he’ll ask if she wants to come. Maybe one day they’ll call the forest home. He almost pitched the idea, almost called her and lets it all rush into the air but at the last minute he chickened out. Finger hovering over the call button, but never quite reaching it. His plans for the evening were demolished when minutes later his eyes drooped closed, phone slipping out of his grasp and onto the pillow.

He dreamt of trees, the wind, sunshine made cloth, sparkling black eyes. He dreamt of life.

***

Jason was bubbling with happiness as he finished draining the pasta and drizzling some olive oil over it. He glanced around his apartment making sure the pillows were straight- as if they ever had the chance to get scrunched under his eagle eye- and the furniture was in its designated spots on the grid of tile. Zoe was coming over and although his apartment was generally immaculate the universe had a bad habit of stirring things up just when you think you’ve got it handled.

A knock at his door set off the zoo of nerves in his stomach but more than that it made him grin with overwhelming happiness.

“Miss Nightshade,” He opened the door.

“Mr Grace. You do look dashing.”

He scrunched his nose at her a gleam in his eyes, “Oh this old thing.” He pulled at the panda onesie she had made him order.

Her laugh was bright and beautiful.

“So what are we having for dinner? And is white wine okay?” She set the bottle on the counter along with her miniature backpack.

“Perfect, and we’re having pasta.”

She lit up at that running to hug him, “You do know the way to a woman’s heart don’t you?”

“I think it’s just to yours,” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her to him.

“Fine by me. I’m not a big sharer anyway.” She winked.

He giggled into her neck, relishing in her clean spicy smell, and the warmth of her body.

“We have to take a selfie before we sit down to it. I want us in matching onesies documented for all eternity.”

“Me too, Leo says he’s never going to believe me unless I send him a picture.”

An hour, one photoshoot, two Instagram posts and a lock-screen change later they finally settled in to eat supper and watch whatever movie they could find on Netflix. He poured the wine and handed her a glass, tipping his own in her direction.

With a soft clink he brushed their lips together, “Happy three months my stella.”

She sucked in a breath, “My mom used to call me that. She said it rivaled my–“

“Your eyes,”

She nodded, looking at him as if he had read every page of the book that made up her, “Happy three months my thyella.”

He smiled into her, putting their wine down and cupping her face.

“The storm and the stars?” He breathed, “Sounds cosmic.”

“Sounds like magic,” Her eyes fluttered.

He closed the minuscule distance between them, capturing her lips softly. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged him impossibly closer. There was electricity and light pouring into their souls as they explored each, as they found life bubbling between them. He broke away for a split second before kissing across her jaw and down her neck. She moaned when his teeth nipped her collar bone and his lips soothed it over. He grabbed the shoulder of her onesie gently and looked up at her,

“Can I?”

She nodded, half breathless with need, “Please.”

So he tugged down the fleecy pyjamas, both of them giggling.

“Why pandas?”

“It was between this and sheep,” She laughed.

He kissed her shoulder with a smile and tugged the zip down fully.

“You sure?”

She cupped his cheeks and pulled him up, so they were eye to eye, “I’m sure, if I want to stop, I’ll tell you.”

He kissed her again, overwhelmed by his feelings, his happiness.

“And Jase?” She rested her forehead against his, “If you want to stop you tell me.”

He beamed at her, brilliant and unrestrained, “We are never getting to dinner.”

Pasta for breakfast, it turns out, is just as good as pasta for supper.

***

His shoes against the marbled floor of his office building clacked in time with his heart as he walked through the lobby on Monday morning, a week later. His thoughts spun with the things he had to do today and the people he had to make nice with. As much as he’s loved Project Hestia this last stretch has given him more trouble than the whole venture together. Him and the community were agitated to get it finished.

“Hazel Levesque, please tell me you have a cappuccino for me?” He groaned, stepping into his office.

“Good morning Boss,” A bright smile and bouncing curls greeted him, “Cappa is on your desk, and one Miss Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano is waiting for you,”

“You’re a gem,” He blew her a kiss and disappeared behind his glass door.

“Jason Grace,” Reyna smirked, a coffee cup dangling from her manicured fingers.

He narrowed his eyes at her, “Is that my cappuccino?”

“If you can prove it,”

“Lawyers,” He grumbled, “How are you?”

“Great thank you,” And she was. He peered at her, his lawyer of many years. She was glowing.

“You look great,” He smiled softly.

“Now, now pretty boy, don’t get all sappy on me,” She scrunched her nose, “I hear we’re meeting new contractors today.”

“Yea Valdez sent them my way. I’m hoping we click because Titan gives me bad vibes.”

“Well me too. I looked through their updated contract and there’s still some things I’m not comfortable with.”

“Let’s get through this meeting with Harley and then bitch about contracts.”

Harley Davids was a small man with infinite energy and the spark of life glittering in his warm brown eyes. He was full of ideas and enthusiasm and listened intently to everything Jason wanted for this project. By the time the meeting was over, a rough draft of an incredible contract was drafted. They had been in the meeting room for two hours, but it had felt like mere minutes and when Harley left, whistling down the hallway and into the elevator Jason had turned to Reyna and hugged her for all she was worth. She laughed at him but squished his ribs back.

“I think we deserve to celebrate that!” He cheered, as they walked back into his office where Hazel was having an animated conversation with someone.

“Percy!” Reyna squealed, slamming into his open arms.

He mumbled something into her hair, arms wrapped around her torso. Jason looked away, hating the pang that hit his chest. He longed for something that easy, that welcoming.

“Jason,” A velvety voice said, “How are you?”

He snapped himself to the present, “Wonderful, thank you. It’s good to see you again.”

“Oh you two know each other?” Reyna smiled curiously.

“Know is a strong word,” He laughed, “We met at the university dinner a few months ago,”

“Well I think we should all go out this weekend. We have something to celebrate after all!” She smiled, looking between them.

“Absolutely, everyone has been waiting for this project to close and it finally is. Haze, you and Frank? And I’ll invite Valdez and Annabeth.” He turned to his lawyer, “You get the word to Nico and Will?”

“Sounds like a party, send me the details. Oh, and we are not going to the disco bar again! I refuse to dress up in neon pink and striped socks.” Reyna gave him a warning look.

“This sounds like a story for the books?” Percy’s eyes danced.

“They are all evil, and I spent a good two months getting glitter out of everywhere.”

A golden laugh burst from the black-haired man, “My only question is how did glitter get everywhere?”

“I have pictures,” Hazel winked.

“Hazel, don’t you dare!”

“I mean I feel he has the right to know what you look like with pink pigtails, blazing yellow thigh-high socks, and about twenty tons of glitter plastered to your body.”

“Oh babe,” Percy gasped, “You cannot deny me this.”

“I hate all of you,” She grumbled, pulling the middle finger up.

“So Friday?” Jason laughed.

“Until then Grace!”

When he finally made it back to his office to do the last few things for the day, he felt for the first time in many a moon, hopeful. He let his mind wander on the quiet car ride home; thoughts were abstract and unimportant as they flitted in and out. Flashes of blueprints, the cool metal of an arrow, laughter, gold chandeliers, earthy skin wrapped in silk, the rush of water, shining green eyes…. green eyes?

Fuck.

“Everything okay Boss?”

“What? Yes, sorry, just remembering some admin I forgot to do.” He covered up quickly.

“Well we’re here.” Frank nodded to his apartment building.

“Thank you, see you tomorrow.”

He pulled up his text conversation with Zoe, already frantically trying to occupy his brain. If you can keep busy, you don’t have time to think.

Jason: hey, having a celebration night cause we finally sealed a contract for my big project. Friday? Can you make it?

She replied almost instantly: Be there! Send me deets.

And then he was throwing his phone on the couch, shoving his earphones in, and running until he couldn’t feel his heart beating. Running until his mind was white noise, till his legs gave out, until velvet words and ocean gazes were obsolete. That night his dreams consisted of nothing at all.

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

Sorry edit real quick: if you didn’t catch it in the fic: Stella means star and thyella means storm

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