#and when i woke up this morning i was genuinely struggling to string five words together | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoditorian · 4 years ago

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a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer.

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?”

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks.

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition.

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack.

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off.

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently.

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?”

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are.

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it.

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears.

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair, face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take.

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room.

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close.

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are.

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless.

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it.

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing.

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure.

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that.

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him.

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this.

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks.

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough.

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that.

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away.

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers.

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.”

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do.

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal.

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them.

“What do you want, Sunspot?”

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth.

“As you wish.”

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory.

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years.

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe.

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands.

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows.

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying.

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry.

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner.

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it.

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit.

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you.

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends.

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you.

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear.

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship.

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere.

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist.

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince.

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra.

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him.

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?”

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left.

“No.”

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @gotta-have-faye @freeshavocadoooo @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44 @fire-is-catching-always

#oh god here it is i hope it lives up to what i've made it out to be #a law divine #prospect (2019)#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x you #liz does words #soulmate au #smut

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deltas-writing-corner · 4 years ago

Text

Courtship: Respect

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Warnings: Mentions and depictions of smoking/tobacco usage

Next chapter | AO3 version

Slight revisions and full version posted on: 5/4/2021

The alarm clock on your phone is loud and annoying, but it’s the only sound that will wake you up without fail so you can get a head start on your more demanding days, like today.

Groggy and neck a bit strained, a sign that you’ve slept on it wrong, you carefully push yourself up and off your bed. You come across your first hurdle of the day. A few wolf cubs had settled on your chest and your sides during the night. You try carefully to move them off of you and to the side of their mother, who has settled near your feet and isn’t afraid to growl or snap her jaw should you even think of shifting or moving away from her. Unfortunately, the pups seem determined to stick by your side despite your efforts. Luckily the pack’s alpha, Gunter, is settled right behind your head and acted as your pillow for the night. He must be why your neck feels stiff as hell.

You reach back and start petting behind his ear, rubbing into the bunch of dotted scars beneath his coarse hair. You feel his body stretch and shake as he wakes up as well. A small whine comes out of him as he gives out an enormous yawn. It makes you yawn as well.

“Ready to start the day?” you whisper to him.

He huffs with a bit of attitude as if to say, “Not really, but what choice do I have?”

You redirect his attention to his pups, preventing you from sitting up without disturbing everyone else. With silent understanding, he removes himself from underneath your head and carefully steps over one of his brothers, who has graciously allowed you to use him as an armrest somewhere during the night. After another good morning stretch, Gunter begins the slow and steady process of picking the pups up from the scruffs off their necks and setting them elsewhere on your bed.

While he does this, you grab your phone and do a quick sweep of all your notifications. You have a few emails, one a weekly newsletter about current and future school events, most of it spam. You have a couple of dozen messages from Ace and Deuce detailing an argument over whether the former ate the latter’s piece of strawberry shortcake they were saving for after dinner. Apparently, they thought to ask you to be their mediator since it was clear they weren’t going anywhere arguing and pointing fingers back and forth at each other.

Unfortunately for them, they messaged you right after you conked out. You were exhausted yesterday, having to deal with an especially rambunctious and mischievous Grim. You were also scrambling to gather the reading materials needed for one of your classes before the other students can snag them. The most recent and urgent incident is figuring out what to do now that the only generator that powers up all of Ramshackle is going out or outright failing to even start up at all. You also have a decently sized garden to tend to, and the next large harvest is today. Once everything has been properly collected, washed, and either stored away in your pantry or given to Sam so he can sell and make a profit on your behalf and his own (it’s a 60/40 split and you had to fight tooth and nail for that 60), you have to replant everything once again after you’ve tilled the soil…

To say that there’s a lot on your plate is an understatement.

Free from your furry prison, you’re finally able to sit up and move your limbs freely. Something slightly damp presses against your bare shoulder, calling for your attention. Gunter, still clearly tired (expected of anyone, human or wolf, having to wake up at six o’clock in the morning), is now awaiting proper payment for his services.

“I got some dried venison in the kitchen,” you offer. The way his one good eye pops wide open and his tail begins to rapidly wag, the deer jerky will suffice.

You give the top of his head one last rub before standing up and heading straight for your bathroom to take a quick shower. Since the availability of electricity has been scarce lately, so is the availability of heating throughout the dorm. Unlike the ghosts, who can’t differentiate between hot and cold (unless it’s magically sourced), you can. Unlike the ghosts who are already dead, you will die in this late winter cold. Grim has better control of his blue flames compared to when you first met him, so he can now essentially be his own heater. He seemed a bit too comfortable keeping himself warm and letting you freeze to death, considering you’re the only reason he’s enrolled in this school.

You make do with what you have and your situation. Even when you gathered all the untorn and clean blankets and piled them on top of you last night, the cold still found its way underneath your cocoon. Gunter, the leader of a small bunch of wolves you had been taking care of during your first few weeks in Twisted Wonderland, must have seen you struggling to stave off the cold and settled himself next to you during the night followed by his brother, his sister, and finally Gunter’s mate and their pups.

Of course, with three full-grown wolves and four chubby wolf babies as your immediate heat sources, you overheated in no time and had to throw off all your covers and strip down to your underclothes in the middle of the night since your pajamas had quickly gotten soaked in sweat (and most definitely covered in their thick fur). A cold shower is just what you need to clean up after a long night drenched in sweat.

You also need to clean your sheets, but without electricity, your washer and dryer are out of order for the time being…

Dammit.

Cold showers suck, but once the ice-cold water hits your back, it woke you the hell up. You probably spent only five minutes in there before you quickly rinsed off and got out because of how unbearable the ice water was.

Once you’re properly toweled dried, you head to your closet and change. You put on clothes you don’t mind getting covered in dirt and sweat; a simple wool sweatshirt and some overalls lined with thick fleece. You also put on a pair of knitted crew socks and secure them to your leg with a pair of garters.

Right as you snap the final metal clasp on the knotted fabric, you feel a familiar bump on your shoulder. Gunter is giving you his best pleading face he can manage. Most people likely wouldn’t fall for it, what with the many scars littering across his body and face, making him look scary rather than cute. You feel a little tug in your heart. Luckily, you’re all dressed up and ready to start your day, so you quickly straighten up and usher him downstairs to give him his well-deserved treat. You grab your phone before you exit your room so you can peruse it on your way.

As you read over old texts and useless emails, a new notification comes in. It’s another message. As surprised as you are to receive a message so early in the morning (Ace and Deuce are likely still snoring and drooling into their pillows at this hour), it is the sender of the text that makes your slowed strides halt completely.

Good morning. I hope you had a pleasant and well-deserved night of rest. I’m currently getting ready to head over to the Ramshackle dorm to help you with your harvesting, as I promised. The coat you’ve made and gifted me during the holidays also fits perfectly and is by far the most comfortable piece of clothing I now own.

Thank you again for your most generous gift. I will inform you when I have arrived.

Yours truly,

Malleus Draconia

You can’t help but smack your palm on your forehead. You’re not annoyed or exasperated, it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re happy that Malleus’s charm can somehow manifest even within a text message. In fact, this isn’t the first time he’s sent you a message formatted and written like a formal letter. If someone were to look at the small messaging history between you two, they’d see that a great majority of it is just Malleus sending you these long strings of text. They would also find your messages, or rather, your poor and embarrassing attempts at mimicking his language and style (he says he gets a laugh out of them, so maybe they’re as bad as you think). There’s also always a follow-up message, gently reminding and encouraging him to relax and not worry about offending you for speaking casually for you.

His response is always the same, and it makes your stomach feel strangely fuzzy.

You have earned my respect, now I must strive to earn yours.

It’s only been a little over a month since he dropped the bombshell that was his desire for your friendship to evolve into a proper, romantic relationship. To say it surprised you is another understatement. You were thoroughly flabbergasted once your mind finally registered his words as genuine. To hear him say “I love you” and direct such a powerful statement towards you was truly the last thing you expected since arriving in this strange world.

But through all the outer uncertainties there was one thing you were certain of, your inner uncertainties. Malleus is a dear friend of yours. Even amongst Ace or Deuce, two individuals who have been with you since the beginning and nearly every overblot incident that has come your way, Malleus holds a special place in your heart as your dearest friend.

But a friend is all he’s ever been in your mind. There was truly never an instance where you pondered or even held some amount of desire or expectation that your friendship could evolve into something more. You felt like a total prick during the end of his confession, asking him if you could sit on his words for a while and come back to him when you have a more certain and final answer to give. Watching the hope and nervousness in his eyes turn into one of pure and utter sadness and even embarrassment, yet he willed himself to conceal his heartbroken emotions back for your sake. It hurt like hell. What was supposed to be an exciting and relaxing end-of-winter-break party in Scarabia’s dorm (and an apology party for Jamil’s actions against you), turned awkward. Neither of you stayed any longer once you went your separate ways.

Despite what had happened, when you received a proper smartphone (and a proper phone plan to boot) as a gift for Christmas, one of the first things you did was transfer all your old contacts into the new device. The first person you messaged was Malleus, wanting to check in on him after your last encounter and to wish him a happy holiday. He answered back in a matter of minutes, much to your surprise. While he’s not the most tech-savvy, your major concern was whether he was holding up well after what happened and if you guys were going to remain as friends. You went on a whole tangent, trying your best to not sound so desperate and ensure that your response is in no way his fault because it most certainly is not. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s you.

Gunter suddenly tenses up. His fur instinctually puffs out, trying to appear bigger in anticipation of whatever threat he’s detected in the kitchen. Metallic clanking and clashing come from underneath the kitchen island where you store all the pots, pans, and heavy-duty appliances. A loud and harsh crash riles up Gunter enough that he feels the need to growl at whatever is underneath the cupboard.

You quietly move past him and wave your arm, signaling him to move back a bit. He listens to your orders and takes a few slow steps back. You position yourself on the side of the cabinet, fingertips pressing onto the top of the door to prepare to open.

“On my mark,” you whisper to Gunter. “One... Two…Three!”

You yank the door open, and Gunter quickly launches himself towards the potential threat. Though, not a second passes before he’s suddenly skidding across the floor, trying to immediately halt himself. He barely avoids hitting his head against the wood and giving himself a nasty bruise. When you ask him what’s wrong, he sticks his head into the cabinet and pulls out the apparent intruder.

It’s Blossom, a young fawn you rescued from the rose gardens of the Heartslaybul dorm. It was during the preparation of the unbirthday party near the start of the school year that subsequently led to dorm leader Riddle’s overblot. Cater assigned Grimm, Ace, Deuce, and yourself to paint the roses red with him. On top of rose painting duty, Cater was also on the lookout for a supposed ‘rose thief’ who had been snagging some roses from their garden right from under their noses. The scoundrel they were looking for was the fawn before you. From the way he still wobbled on his feet, he wasn’t even a month old when you initially rescued him. He’s lucky you found him when you did. His front leg was caught in a rusted and dull, but full-sized bear trap they set up in case the thief was a wild animal.

“What are you doing in there?” you ask the little troublemaker. “Probably trying to find a snack to chew on, huh?”

Blossom thrashes, trying to break free from Gunter’s hold on his scruff. He of course fails, but not without giving out a distressed scream and trying to plead for forgiveness by giving you his best innocent look. You shake your head before looking up at the small clock hung up on the wall above the refrigerator. It runs on battery so you have to worry about the time no longer being correct when the house lacks power.

It’s 6:15, still way too early. You tell Gunter to let go of Blossom and he does it without argument. Blossom quickly runs up to you, using your own body as a foothold to jump up into your arms. Once you have a hold of him, he bombards your face with little licks and nuzzles of his snout. While this action is normal and you would gladly accept it, you know better than to think it’s not the fawn’s attempts at trying to distract you from his misdeed.

“If you’re looking for the sugared flower petals, you won’t have any luck down there,” you tell him. He immediately stops his loving ministrations and gives out a disappointingly snort before relaxing in your arms.

You chuckle and give him a few apologetic pets on the head as you walk over to one of the upper cupboards and rummage around the various jars, trying to locate the dried venison for Gunter. You also grab a jar placed far in the back with the aforementioned candied rose petals Blossom was most definitely looking for. The moment you open the jar and the heavy scent of sweetness and floral whiffs in the air, Blossom begins to excitedly thrash about in your arms and tries to stick his head into the container. Luckily, the small nubs on his head, his newly budding antlers, stop him from reaching too deep.

You spend the next few minutes feeding your companions their early morning treat. The doorbell rings as you let Blossom lick the last specks of sugar off of your now damp palm. After rinsing your hands off and drying them, you head to the door. You open it and take in the sight of a newly arrived Malleus, dressed in a simple black dress shirt and a pair of loose-fitting linen pants you made for him when he expressed discomfort over his PE uniform the last time he helped you in your garden.

“Good morning!” you greet him as brightly as you can without being too loud.

“A good morning to you as well,” he greets back. Unlike you, who is still groggy and slow, he seems properly energized despite the time. You’re jealous. You’ve been waking up at the crack of dawn for years, at least a decade now, yet your body isn’t used to the early routine. Though compared to the hundreds of years Malleus has on you, you probably won’t show any sign of improvement until your hairs are gray.

“Have you eaten yet?” Malleus asks.

You shake your head. “The electricity is out, so I can’t use the stove or open the fridge too often.”

“Crowley still hasn’t replaced your generator?”

“No,” you frown. “Every time I try to bring it up he either gives an outlandish excuse or just flat out tells me I don’t need a new one.”

His eyebrows pressed together, clearly upset as you are at the headmaster’s failure as your caretaker. You reassure him it’s fine. Everyone in the dorm has been saving money for emergencies like this, and it just so happens that the money you’ll make for selling the produce you collect today will bring in just enough to buy a brand new generator. You’ll be out of electricity for another week, two at most, but have enough firewood and nonperishable foods to last until then.

“You should at least make yourself some coffee,” Malleus urges. “It’s bad to work on an empty stomach. You've said so yourself.”

“I will once Grim and the ghosts wake up,” you reassure. “For now, let’s head to the back and get started. There’s a lot to harvest, so the sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish up.”

He’s clearly unhappy at your dismal of his concerns. You know that being so nonchalant towards a fae is rude, but you don’t want to worry him with your own issues. You also have no desire to eat or drink, not this early in the morning at least. If you tell him as much, he’ll probably freak out like he did last time, thinking you were unwell and forcing you to lie in bed for the rest of the day.

Yes, you could have pushed back and argued that you were fine, but it’s very hard to tell him “no” when his intentions are purely out of concern for your well-being. Better to let him hover over you and see that you’re fine than to leave him stewing in his anxieties in silence.

“What have you been growing this season?” Malleus asks as he tugs on the loaned gardening gloves you handed him.

“The usual spread. Some potatoes, cabbage, and carrots. The only fresh additions I planted are some peas and kale. Oh, and broccoli!”

“Did the crops hold well when you were gone?”

“They did thanks to the ghosts. The heat from the fire faeries around the campus also made them easier to protect from the cold,” you explain. “I should probably give them some type of exotic wood as a little thank you gift.”

“You can never go wrong with a bit of mahogany,” Malleus says as he ties back his hair.

You hand him a straw hat, one that you weaved to accommodate for his black horns. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” he smiles at you before turning back to your garden. “So where shall we start first?”

“I’ll work on picking the cabbage heads. You can cut off the pea pods and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well. I’ll follow your lead.”

It’s 8 a.m. You know this because Ace and Deuce are woken up at this hour by Riddle and one of the first things they do is bombard you with text messages which usually forces you to turn your phone on silent mode. Despite it being late winter, you’re already working up a sweat from the repetitive and demanding motions of picking and carrying around baskets full of vegetables and cleaning them. Malleus is no better, hand continuously raising to his face to wipe away the constant wetness clinging to his forehead. You know he’s not used to manual labor like you are, so you try to bring him a pail of water every so often so he can stay properly hydrated.

“Oh my, you’re already up?”

You turn around to see who’s speaking to you and see one of the ghosts that live with you and Grim in Ramshackle floating towards you.

“Good morning!” you greet him. “Did you need something?”

“No no,” he shakes his head. “I just came to check up on my bees and saw you already hard at work.”

The ghost (Franklin is his name, but you all call him Frankie for short by his insistence), affectionately ruffles your hair with his large white palm. He’s one of the tamer ghosts, but he’s still capable of pulling a prank on you or his fellow housemates now and then. You and he have been cultivating and maintaining a small beehive since October, but he does most of the work and maintenance since he has more experience in the ways of beekeeping than you from when he was alive.

Frankie does a quick once over of the garden, his scanning gaze doubling back at seeing Malleus carefully rinse a couple of heads of broccoli.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since 6:30,” you answer back. “Why?”

“No one gets up that early unless it’s for someone they fancy,” he says rather nonchalantly, but the way he quickly side-eyes you show that he’s clearly talking about you. You try your best to appear unaffected and give a “Is that right?” type of hum, but your efforts are in vain since he just laughs at you.

“If even you know, that means he’s got it bad.”

You say nothing back because you honestly don’t know what to say, or if you should. You’re content to just go back to plucking potatoes out from the ground, but Frankie doesn’t seem to want to leave you alone just yet. He asks you to come with him to the greenhouse where the hive is being kept. The small glass enclosure also houses some flowers and herbs you use for cooking or medicine.

You quickly close the door behind you once you enter, reveling in the warmer air that hits your face. While Frankie lights his cigar and gets a heavy cloud of smoke going (his personal method of keeping the bees calm), he has you open the top and carefully pull out the panels one by one while he checks for any signs of a decaying hive and ensures the queen is alive and healthy. One of your initial worries about beekeeping was getting stung, but Frankie reassured you it’ll only happen if you purposely upset the bees or fail to care for the hives consistently. Now, you gladly let the buzzing honeybees wander around your bare skin.

As Frankie pulls out his cigar from between his lips and taps off the ashes into the respective ashtray, he looks over at you and asks, “Is everything ok?”

You give him a confused expression as you snap the cover for the hive back into place. “I’m fine?”

“You sure? Because if you ask me, you don’t seem like it.”

“I mean, I already have a pile of schoolwork I need to finish and a rundown dorm to take care of. I’m as ok as anyone in my position can be-“

“I’m not talking about any of that,” he interrupts. “I’m talking about you. Forget about Grim and your studies. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you answer again.

“Are you sure?”

Well, when he puts it that way, even he must be able to see that you’re clearly not doing alright. In fact, you haven’t been alright since you were literally kidnapped and held against your will in the Scarabia dorm. Luckily everything worked out fine for everyone else, but not so much for you. You’ve noticed that your appetite is waning and you wake up multiple times during the night because you don’t feel safe, even in your own room.

Malleus’s confession unfortunately was another wrench being thrown at you. With your hands already so full of this and that, you’re struggling to figure out what needs a priority and which issues you need to either drop entirely or find someone trustworthy to take care of it in your stead. It’s hard to ask people for help when they either find a convenient reason to say no or you feel as if you can’t trust them to do something as simple as watering your plants. The only person you feel you can trust and ask for help is Malleus, and things aren’t exactly as they were between the two of you.

“Talk to me kiddo,” Frankie prods. “What’s been eating at you?”

He lifts his ashtray and makes to snuff out his cigar so he can focus on speaking to you, but you hastily reach over and stop him. You take the smoke from him and bring it up to your lips and puff a few grey clouds. Strangely enough, it tastes rather pleasant, floral, and creamy. You didn’t expect to taste like this because of the way it smells, like soil that was just freshly rained on.

“Sorry,” you hand it back to him. “I haven’t eaten and I’m practically running on fumes.”

“That’s alright,” he says, handing it back to you. “You look like you need it more than me.”

Malleus carefully blows small bits of green fire onto his freezing fingertips, trying to warm them up after being drenched in the icy water from the water pump. He looks over his shoulder, over the stalks of peas, towards you. You’re still in the greenhouse and frantically moving your lips. He can see your eyes are glistening with a fresh layer of… tears? You don’t allow a single drop to get past your lids, wiping them just at the last second before they can pass over the threshold.

He’s only ever seen you cry one other time, when he came to your rescue in Scarabia over the break. He initially thought he frightened you with his aggressive display of magic. Once the dust settled and the blot on Jamil was expunged, no one was more shocked than he was when you boldly ran straight towards him and jumped into his arms. It was all he ever wanted, what his mind dreamed of every single time he closed his eyes. He could no longer brush off the fluttering in his stomach as the mere excitement of making and spending time with his first genuine friend. He was determined to keep his newfound affections for you with him under lock and key, not willing to risk ruining your close-knit friendship with his selfish and potentially one-sided desires.

Your desperate embrace, your toughie exterior lowering to that of a sniveling and shaking human, gave Malleus the impression that the only reason you would display such vulnerability before him was that you reciprocated his sentiments. It gave him a sense of confidence he never knew he was lacking, usually so sure of himself most other times. It made his chest burn with an aching desire to say “to hell with it all” and spill his heart right then and there.

When you extended the invitation you received from Kalim to him, he saw it as his proper opportunity to let his affections be known. He was upset (according to Lilia, more than usual) that he had to take Sebek and Silver along with him for the usual security, but he was determined to get them distracted long enough so he can pull you aside and confess to you without fear of interruption or letting his personal affairs be known to anyone else, at least, for as long as he can keep something so monumental under wraps.

As a prince, he has been taught to look at the long term for each of his decisions, as they carry substantial weight. The long term of pursuing a relationship with you meant having to deal with the prejudices and stigma against humans that still live within the hearts of his people. For once in his life, he didn’t want to think like an heir. As he watches you continue to talk to one of Ramshackle’s ghosts with increasing frustration, he realizes his love utterly blinded him back then. The only long-term his rose-tinted mind could comprehend was of the happy moments he had long conjured in his head becoming a reality.

You didn’t explicitly reject him, however; he knows your behavior well enough to know that once his feelings were laid bare before you, you would not take them into your arms and hand yours over in return. Arms crossed and avoidance of eye contact, you do this when you’re nervous or unsure, sometimes both. He held onto the self-indulgent hope that you’d show him what you look like when flustered. Perhaps you’d stutter?

You did stutter when you spoke up, but they were not the words that he wanted, that he thought he was, going to hear.

“Malleus...I’m so sorry…”

“Ah, you’re here early!”

“It’s just that…I don’t think I can…”

“Hey! Are you listening to me? You better not be ignoring me on purpose!”

“It’s not that I’m telling you I don’t feel the same way, but I can’t exactly say that I do. It’s just... I’ve never- “

“Tsu-no-ta-rou!” Grim’s shrill voice, still a bit riddled with drowsiness, still pierce Malleus’s eardrums and nearly causes him to drop the vegetable in his hand. “Pay attention to me when I’m speaking!”

“Quiet,” he growls at the monster. “If you need your master, they’re in the greenhouse. Though, you might want to come back another time.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

Malleus lifts Grim from the back of his fuzzy robe (you must have made it and gifted it to him during the holidays) and points to you. Frankie has one of his translucent hands on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly now and then while he speaks. You were no longer wiping your face so furiously, allowing your tears to fall and drip off of your jaw and wet your shirt as you listened to your fellow dorm resident.

“What happened? Did you smash all the tomatoes again?” Grim cranes his neck to look at Malleus accusingly.

“No, I didn’t. Those are out of season.”

“Maybe it’s about what happened at Scarabia,” Grim muses. “They haven’t been sleepin’ too good since we came back, y’know?”

Malleus nearly drops the cat. “They haven’t?”

“Nah,” the cat answers, far too casually and dismissively for the fae’s liking.

“This is news to me,” Malleus says, almost whispering to himself. He’s sad, almost offended, at the fact that you haven’t told him you’ve been having some difficulties this whole time. You normally keep him up to date with your personal life. He’s even more offended once he realizes that you’ve been worrying and reassuring him that your friendship with him isn’t ruined after what’s happened.

There’s a small voice in the back of his mind, conniving and twisted, that feeds into his already prevalent belief that your unwillingness to share with him your personal problems anymore is a sign that he hasn’t earned your respect. It’s a ridiculous explanation, but no amount of reassuring from either you or himself is going to stop his Mind from asking such a multi-sided question. Surely, if you thought admirably of him, you’d continue to allow him to bear witness to your moments of weakness and vulnerability. He feels close to you, connected to you in a way he’s never felt. He can be slow and downright miss some references to your jokes and behavior. You always put on a face of understanding, but is he so lost that your patience has worn paper-thin?

Are his feelings for you truly one-sided? Is he still jumping to conclusions too soon and just needs to give you more time and space? Did he just set a course for a ruined friendship or could his hastiness have been a fruitful gamble?

If it’s not iron that kills him, it’s the uncertainty within his heart and mind.

A shrill whistle pierces through the air and Malleus’s eardrums. Grim hisses at the sudden noise and the hairs on his neck stand up. Even Frankie and you can hear and turn your heads towards the source despite still being in the middle of a conversation. The one who whistled was another one of the ghosts who live in Ramshackle. Johnathan is his name, usually shortened to Johnny. His sunken cheekbones make him look unassuming, but you’ve rightly warned Malleus never to turn your back on that one for too long. It’s a miracle that you can keep up with all their shenanigans.

“I got the generator to start up and made some coffee!” Johnny happily announces. “Come get it while it and the dorm are nice and warm!”

“I’ll have a cup or two, so long as there’s a ton of cream and sugar!” Grim says whilst smiling. “And I ain’t skimping this time on the sugar!”

“You better if you know what’s good for you,” you sternly say, now out of the greenhouse along with Frankie. “We’re short on sugar and I’m not stocking up till next weekend.”

“Whaaaat?!” Grim exclaims, his lower jaw almost reaching the floor. “Since when did you become such a cheapskate?”

Everyone, including Malleus, did a sharp intake of breath as soon as the words passed the cat’s mouth. Everyone turns their head towards you, awaiting your reaction to Grim’s comment. This isn’t the first time Grim has gotten lippy with you and, given his nature as a mischievous little monster (a common trait between Ramshackle’s residents, Malleus is now noticing), it won’t be his last no matter how badly you scare or pull a fast one under his clawed feet. Even when your face is all puffy and wet with semi-dried tears, the look of “oh you’re in it now” is still so panic-inducing to everyone, ghosts, and feline alike. To the sole Fae present, he thinks of you as nothing short of adorable and wants nothing more than to wipe your messy face clean.

“Well, if you want more sugar there is one way you can get some more.”

“W-W-What is it?” Grim says, pudgy body shaking and sinking into the comfort and small safety of his fuzzy robe.

You approach him and bend down to grab him by the back of his neck, lifting him so he’s at your eye level before deadpanning, “Get a job, Make some money, and then buy your own.”

Once you set Grim down, he scrambles back into the home with an almost comical amount of fear in his eyes. He screams about how he’s never getting a job even if it kills him and his continued determination to find the small money vault you have hidden around the dorm and spend it all on canned tuna. Johnny, Frankie, and you all give a unison chant of good luck to him before he disappears completely.

“Has he made any progress in his search?” Malleus asks.

“Our money vault isn’t even in the house, so no,” Johnny answers, resulting in you and Frankie cackling and high-five one another.

With the power back on, you announce that it was time for a well-deserved break. It’s your turn to make breakfast and you immediately begin to ask everyone for their preferences. Frankie cuts you off and insists he take over your duties for the day. You normally would protest and insist to whoever was offering to cover for you it wasn’t a problem for you at all. “I enjoy doing [insert chore], so it’s fine!” is your usual go-to reasoning, but not this time.

Malleus notices the way you make to protest as usual, but you quickly back down and just let Frankie go ahead inside to take over for you. In normal Ramshackle fashion, Frankie mentions the cigar you were puffing and waving around earlier and says that you owe him another one, particularly an artisanal one that he’s recently read about in the local newspaper and has been aching to try.

“You got any more highly specific goods you want me to fight tooth and nail for?” you sneer.

“No, just the cigar will do,” he says before turning around to head back inside. Before he can close the door behind him all the way he pulls it back and says, “If you get it sometime this week I’ll buy a new bag of sugar.”

You whisper an impressive string of curses under your breath. Malleus has to restrain the urge to laugh at your colorful vocabulary.

“In that case, I hope your schedule is free tomorrow night. I’ll have it by then.”

Frankie gives you a thumbs up before heading back inside. Once the door behind him clicks shut, you turn towards Malleus and he physically feels his body shift from somewhat relaxed to stiff and proper. You notice this and crinkle your nose a bit, something to do when you find something endearing or as a way of silently giggling. Malleus watches with such an unnecessary amount of focus as you reach up to adjust his straw hat and wipe a bit of dirt off the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry for leaving you hanging back there,” you say as you pick off a stray leaf that somehow got tangled in his dark locks. “I’m also sorry you had to see me crying like that. I’ve just been so tired lately.”

There it is again. That damn twisting ache right in his heart.

“It’s fine,” he reassures you. “But if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, is your lack of sleep really all that’s wrong with you?”

You give out a long sigh. “I’m guessing Grim told you a bit of what’s been happening since winter break?”

“He has.”

Your arms cross and the ground suddenly becomes more interesting. You’re unsure, but the way your eyebrows press together is a sign that you’re conflicted. Malleus feels his frostbitten hands accumulate a layer of sweat as you silently mull over your thoughts. Despite the pain and hesitance in his heart, he wills himself to grasp you by the arm and pull you into an awkward hug. He knows it’s not exactly what you might need at the moment, and he was fully preparing you to push him away. He’s relieved when you bring your arms around his torso and reciprocate the embrace.

“I’m tired,” you sigh

“You haven’t been resting well, so it makes sense.“

“No,” you shake your head, the tips of your hair tickling Malleus’s neck. “It’s not just a lack of sleep that’s making me feel exhausted. After what happened with Scarabia, especially with Jamil, I don’t feel safe anymore.”

“Are you afraid?” he asks. To think of you as fearful is an entirely foreign concept for him when you’ve only ever been confident and certain of yourself since the first time he met you.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit without skipping a beat.

Considering what you told him, Malleus thinks your fear is justified. You have no defense against magic…

He fills a strain in his neck as his entire body suddenly seized up. You notice this and pull away to ask him what’s wrong. “Nothing,” he quickly dismisses, but you don’t let him go silent on you.

“If,” he hesitates. He’s thinking too rashly already, yet he’s still so compelled to act upon his thoughts. “Should anyone attempt to do you harm, I swear upon my name and title that I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”

He means every word, but you seem to take it far too casually than he would have liked. You press your face against his shoulder and laugh against his skin, your breath bringing him some much-needed temporary warmth. Such an ordinary action, yet it causes another pang within his heart. It settles next to the one that arose before, but he bites his tongue and endures it for your sake.

“Maybe you could play that electric violin for whoever comes after me,” you jest.

As embarrassing as it is to hear that you know about that incident (he’ll have to reprimand Lilia for telling you about that), he can’t help but laugh along with you. If making a bunch of teenagers’ foam from the mouth amuses you, then so be it.

“Thank you for offering to get your hands dirty for my sake,” you say. “That’s one thing I respect about you. You take care of the people you care for.”

His body goes still once again. “Is that right?” is all his mind can wrap around and say.

“Yes, oh Wise and Great Lord Malleus. I do, in fact, respect you.”

He cringes at that title. It’s something he has heard Sebek try to enforce you to refer to Malleus as, which you never do purely so you can get a rise out of his loyal guard. Before he can ask you to never call him that again, a bunch of howl’s ring out, and the two of you pull away from each other. The wolf’s howling is usually a sign that food is ready, which you seem rather eager to get to as you interlock your arm with his and drag him inside with you.

He looks back at his basket of still dirty vegetables. “What about-“

“It’s alright! I’m not throwing a fuss over a few broccoli heads!”

Crispy bacon, over easy and scrambled eggs, and a mountain of sizzling hash browns. Once everyone grabs a plate and sits down at the dining table (Malleus sticks close to you, hoping he can sit next to you), they grab whatever pieces of food they want in whichever quantity. Somewhere in the next room over, a faint melody plays through the speaker of an old record player. The vintage singer has a rather cheeky attitude in her vocals but with the accompanying music, it all comes together harmoniously. It’s perfect for a rather excitable breakfast.

It seems you never told the ghosts too many details about your sudden disappearance during the break. You downplay the true extent of your dilemma as you willingly giving your time and effort to help a desperate Jamil figure out what was causing his normally kind dorm leader to have a sudden personality switch. The ghosts listen carefully, and as you gradually get to the big climax that is Jamil’s betrayal and overblot, followed by Malleus’s sudden appearance, they’re all practically hanging on the edge of their seats. Your tale even intrigues the wolves and Blossom. They gather and settle near the legs of your chair, ushering you to continue your story by whining and scratching your ankle.

You don’t exaggerate Malleus’s part in your tale, something he greatly appreciates. You tell them how things happened just as they did: Grey clouds suddenly covering the sky and the occasional peak of lightning through their fogginess. Just when it seems like Jamil has the upper hand and is going to put an end to Grim and you, as well as Jade, Floyd, and Azul of Octavinelle, Malleus appears out of nowhere and effortlessly zaps the blot right out of the vice dorm leader of Scarabia.

“That deserves some praise,” Benjamin, the third of your ghostly residents, raises his half-filled mug of coffee and extends it towards the middle of the table. “To Malleus!”

Everyone, including you and Grim, raises your glasses and repeats his chant. “To Malleus!”

“To me, I suppose,” Malleus half-heartedly raises his own cup. “It really wasn’t much effort, or any praise really.”

He catches you looking at him in his peripheral and he feels a lump form in this throat that he immediately swallows. “I simply did what I believed you would have done for me if our positions were reversed.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” you say after swallowing a hefty mouthful of scrambled eggs. “But it’s nice knowing you have my back. It makes me feel safe.”

“Safe?” Malleus is surprised to hear you say this, considering what you told him earlier. “I make you feel safe?”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. “Y-Yeah. I guess you do.”

“You guess?”

“You do,” you say, more definitively this time. “I promise. If you didn’t you’d know.”

He can’t help but laugh. “I can only imagine what interacting with you would be like then.”

“Probably not that good, or not at all. I steer clear of people I don’t particularly like.”

His eyebrows raise in intrigue as he sips his now lukewarm coffee. “What makes you dislike someone?”

“I dislike people I have no respect for,” you say casually. Malleus thinks you might be joking or poking fun at him, but how you take the time to look up to him while you busy yourself with feeding Gunter a few bits of bacon clearly means you’re trying to tell him something secretly. It’s definitely something along the lines of, “I don’t know where this mindset of me not respecting you came from, but it’s a load of bullshit and you need to get that thought out of your head.”

Even within his head, your language is still so vulgar and blunt. Only you would talk to him in such a rude manner.

But he respects that part about you.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst writing #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader

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xofanfics · 4 years ago

Text

String - Part VI

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Baekhyun x Female Reader FT. SEHUN

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You find yourself in a friends-with-benefits situation with your best friend. You have no business falling for him, but your heart begs to differ.

Baekhyun hadn’t heard from you since that night. You hadn’t responded to his text and he had no idea whether you’d listened to his voicemail. And Evie and Sadie were no help either. They said that you’d approach him when you were ready but he was impatient.

Guilt pulled at Baekhyun as if someone was tugging the bottom of his shirt. Even though he had started seeing Kira like he wanted, he still felt pretty guilty about it all. He hadn’t exactly done anything wrong but he knew that he fucked up, morally. It was fucked up to treat you like that, pulling you on a string until he decided what he wanted. You deserved better than that. And he was a hypocrite. He knew that much.

He felt uncomfortable knowing how he left things with you and he wanted to talk to you. He didn’t know the things he needed to say and he wasn’t sure where to begin. All he knew is that he wanted to talk to you. Things probably wouldn’t go back to normal, even if he tried his absolute best.

“Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun looked up from his plate. “Huh?”

“I said what are you thinking about?”

“Just about an old friend.”

Kira frowned. “Did something happen?”

He sighed. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Kira didn’t press him about it and he was grateful. Guilt ate at him further as he realized that he wasn’t able to pay his own girlfriend the attention she deserved. His thoughts, somehow, would always shift toward you even in the presence of others.

She didn’t know what was bothering Baekhyun but it was bothering her. Lately, he seemed a little down. Things hadn’t changed too much but he always looked so...troubled. Kira wanted to make him feel better but she didn’t know where to begin. Did he even trust her enough to tell her what was going on in his life? Did he feel like he couldn’t be open with her? Was she not doing enough, as his girlfriend?

She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. She gave it a light squeeze because it was the only comfort she could give him.

You woke up and found yourself staring at the white ceiling as your phone’s alarm went off on the nightstand. You rolled over and shut off the blaring noise. As you sat up in bed, you let out a yawn. You got dressed and started getting ready for your 9AM shift at the waxing salon. The best part about being a receptionist was getting a discount on waxes and not having to do much. This job was a way to put extra money in your pocket and to study and do homework in between the small tasks you had to do to maintain a suitable environment for customers.

You got lost in your skincare routine as you found yourself thinking about Baekhyun again. You hadn’t seen him since that night and you avoided all contact with him within the friend group. Being that they were with Baekhyun a lot, you hadn’t seen the guys much lately. You couldn’t help but feel like the friend group was divided and that some of it was partially your fault.

You thought to yourself, If I see Baekhyun again, I think I could at least say hi…

Sehun occupied your thoughts most of the time but there were times when you gave in to temptation and your thoughts shifted to things like Baekhyun’s award-winning smile. Sehun was a gentleman. To be honest, he was everything you wanted in a guy. He let you know from the beginning that he had intentions of being in a relationship. It was rare to get that much information from a man these days.

He was considerate and he cared about you. And it showed. And when you hung out again last week, things were just as relaxed as last time. You felt like you could be yourself. The two of you went to get gelato in Little Italy, walked to the park, and talked for hours. And when you left each other, he didn’t try to come back to your apartment with you and he didn’t try to kiss you either. You were so used to guys rushing into things that this seemed a bit strange. It was great to meet a man with pure intentions.

Sehun would ask you if you wanted to Facetime a couple times. He’d ask you about your day, about what you ate, about what you were learning in class. He was asking these things because he genuinely wanted to know you. He wanted to know your thoughts, your ideas, and opinions. He wanted to dig deep into you, pulling out as much information as he could. He wanted to be able to paint the perfect picture of you, with his eyes closed shut.

You smiled to yourself as you got off of the train. You had twenty minutes to get to work from the train station. It only took five minutes from the train but you liked to come a bit early to get coffee. Your phone buzzed in your hands. Sehun left you a voice message.

“Hey, Y/N. Good morning! Hope you slept well last night and that you have a good day at work...I’m working from home today, thank God. I’m sick of my boss hovering over me while I’m trying to get work done..” He let out a chuckle. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see you later tonight.”

The two of you planned to go to a jazz lounge tonight. Neither of you had ever been and it seemed like a fun date. That was one thing you enjoyed about Sehun. He was always down to try new things with you. Everything you were experiencing with Sehun felt so new, so exciting. You never felt quite like this before.

You smiled at the sound of Sehun’s voice and, as you were about to send a voice note back, you happened to look up and find Baekhyun walking toward you. You were sure he hadn’t noticed you yet and you hoped to keep it that way. You kept walking, trying your best to remain unnoticed. As you walked past, you were sure he caught a glimpse of you because you could feel someone’s eyes glued onto you. It took everything in you not to turn around and look back at him.

You’d said that maybe you were at a point in your life where you could gather the courage and greet him if you were in the same room. Here you were, practically running away from him instead. You weren’t ready to cross paths with him; not right now. And to make matters worse, you looked a mess in your barely brushed bun and a not-so-special outfit. You’d imagined that when you eventually did cross paths, that you’d look good that day.

You walked past him and didn’t look back once.

Baekhyun got off the train feeling more tired than usual. He’d had a bit of trouble sleeping last night. He inched up the staircase slowly and when he looked up to see what the holdup was, he saw that it was a mother struggling to carry a stroller. Eventually, once someone realized that maybe they should help, another woman helped her up. Once the staircase congestion was cleared, Baekhyun was able to start moving.

As he headed toward the exit, he happened to look up from his phone and to his left. He had to do a double take to make sure it was you. It was. He knew your height and body size like the back of his hand. Even though he hadn’t been friends with you for a full year, he got to know you well for the past few months...until all of this drama came crashing into his life. He was at fault, he knew. This was a mess that he’d unintentionally created by not being straightforward and not being honest with himself or the people around him.

He didn’t know what an ideal world would look like. He wanted to be with Kira, no matter what. But, sometimes, his heart tugged toward you. He cared about you and he honestly missed you. He missed hanging out with you. He missed the simple things about his relationship with you like waiting for you to get out of class so you could eat lunch with him or helping you study for your exam, with flashcards. He missed simple things like FaceTime calls in the middle of the night when you had trouble sleeping and the fact that he could tell you anything. Part of him wished that he’d never crossed that line with you. He hated the fact that you weren’t in his life at all. Would you have been better off as just friends from the very beginning?

Baekhyun did see you, even if you didn’t know it. He saw you in all your glory. He saw you and your bun that you wore with the pale pink scrunchie that you loved. He saw you walking toward the University Place exit which could only mean that you were going to work. He remembered going there to pick you up from work last semester and watching you fidget at the desk, eagerly waiting for your coworker to come in and take over the desk duties.

He did notice you and a piece of his heart chipped away as he realized that a) you saw him and didn’t care to speak or b) you genuinely didn’t see him. A million possibilities and harsh realities flew through his head. He knew that you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to him but had you just straight-up ignored him, like he didn’t exist?

Did the voicemail he left mean nothing to you? Did you listen to it at all? Did you delete it without even bothering to listen to it? He had so many questions and no answers. Were you done with him? Had he ruined the friendship the two of you once had forever? He felt a lot of things but his heart felt bruised, more than anything.

Was it really over?

Baekhyun wasn’t sure what kind of relationship he could have with you at this point but he knew that he didn’t want to live in a world without you in it. But on the other hand, he knew that he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too.

You met Evie and Sadie in their dorm room after your shift. You still had a couple hours before you had planned on meeting Sehun. You put your bags down and sat down on the fluffy rug that lay between the two beds.

Your friends had started filling you in on a campus event tonight, where some of the school’s cultural organizations were going to have a dance off. You hadn’t planned on going since you made plans with Sehun but your friends didn’t seem to want to let it go.

“So you’re really not going to come to the Battle of the Orgs thing tonight?” asked Sadie, sitting down on the floor next to you.

You shook your head. “Well, I wasn’t really planning on it...”

Evie chimed in, turning away from her laptop and toward you. “Drew said it’d be really cool if you’d come. He’s hardly seen you since everything that happened with Baek. He’s performing...and the best part is that Baekhyun won’t be in the crowd cause he’s performing too.”

You raised your eyebrow, a curious expression taking over. “Since when?”

“Since like three weeks ago when one of the other guys dropped out and Drew begged him to join the lineup,” answered Evie. “Drew bugged the hell out of him and eventually Baekhyun agreed to it. You know how annoying he can be...”

“I saw Baekhyun in the train station this morning,” you said. “I was telling myself this morning that, if I saw him in the street, maybe I’d say hi...but I walked by and pretended I didn’t see him.”

“Would you really have said something?” asked Sadie.

You shrugged. “Probably not. But what would I even say to him?”

“Go fuck yourself is a good start,” Evie suggested. The three of you laughed for a moment before her expression became serious. “He really does seem to be dating that girl though.”

“Did you meet her?” you asked.

“For a minute,” Sadie said.

Evie added, “Baekhyun stopped by in the library and she was with him. So he introduced her...as his girlfriend.”

“What does she look like?”

“She looks mixed. She’s black and Japanese, I heard.”

“What’s she like?”

“Y/N, what does it matter? We met her for two seconds, in passing. Even if I had an answer for you, I wouldn’t tell you. You’re seeing Sehun, right? Why are you making Baekhyun more relevant than he is?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that your friend wasn’t going to give you more information. But, deeper down, you knew that she was right. It wasn’t healthy to ask those kinds of questions or to do things like look at Baekhyun’s snapchat stories hoping to find out more about this girl. It hurt that he had moved on. You wished that you were in her shoes. It felt unfair that this girl came into the picture and threw Baekhyun off course. You thought about what he said about having intentions of asking you out. If it was true, then the appearance of this Kira girl had ruined it. In a way, she had ruined the relationship that could’ve been yours.

But it wasn’t fair to put the blame on this girl. You didn’t know her and she didn’t know you. Sometimes you felt jealous but then you had to remind yourself that you deserved better and that if Baekhyun truly wanted to be with you in the first place, he would’ve been.

In all honesty, you should’ve listened to Evie’s advice in the first place. You should’ve known something was up when she asked if you were sure that Baekhyun really liked you. Maybe you should’ve questioned things sooner. Maybe if you’d brought it up sooner, the story wouldn’t have played out quite like this. Maybe you would’ve had the answers you needed much sooner. Maybe it would’ve hurt less.

You bit your lip. “Of course he’s not relevant. I’m seeing someone new and I’m moving on...just like he is!”

Part of you wanted to go to the Battle of the Orgs. You wanted to go because you genuinely wanted to see Drew perform and, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you wanted to see Baekhyun perform too. You never really saw him dance like this before. According to your friends, the Korean Student Association was going to perform a couple k-pop songs.

You didn’t know if you were ready to see Baekhyun in person, even if it was from a distance. Hell, you couldn’t even face him in the train station this morning. You just kept walking like a coward. You had imagined seeing Baekhyun again for the first time a million different ways. All of the scenarios you imagined in your head were nonchalant, petty, or neutral. You’d imagined scenarios where you hit him, scenarios where you threw shade at him, and scenarios like this morning—you walking past him, but without a care in the world. And you’d also imagined delusional scenarios where he explained that he didn’t want that girl anymore, and that you were the one he wanted. But you knew, at this point in time, that it wouldn’t happen.

You knew deep down that the only way to truly get over Baekhyun was to finally face him. That didn’t mean that you had to be friends or that things were going to go back to how they were. Shit, how could they after all that you’d been through? Seeing Baekhyun in person didn’t mean that you were committing to anything specific. It just meant that you’d be in the same room, breathing the same air. No harm in that, right?

You had to face Baekhyun sooner or later. You weren’t obligated to accept his apology or to be friends. The only way to get over him was to acknowledge his existence. Maybe you could get to a point where you could have a conversation. Maybe, just maybe, you could be acquaintances or something. But for now, you decided to just let things play out. You’d just be yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t even have to interact with Baekhyun in the first place.

You decided that you were going to go to the event tonight. You’d go to the event, support Drew, and then leave to go to the jazz bar with Sehun afterward. This solution was perfect, for everyone.

***

A/N: This is kind of a filler chapter but the next chapter will be longer and have the drama everyone’s craving, I promise! It’s worth the wait. And thank you to everyone who has supported me. And shoutout to my bestie for helping me through these ideas and giving me some much needed motivation!

Tag List: @shesdreaminginoverdose @multistania @jeonchan26 @myonlyaurora @keloiu @xxluckydreamsxx @multifandomeras @blanknearvana @jddcfc-blog @jummyjammy @mintaemark @kokobyunee @fortheloveofinfinite @littleflowercrown13 @wayvexo @to-all-the-stories-i-love @ggaayyyong @hyuniebaby @giriboyshogu @xyukheix @jekylluv @forbyun @endzii23 @puppyeoliepop @aa-ronpa @serendipitydreamsss @princemicorazon @sjkings @marimsun @baekhypnotized

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chaescupofdepresso · 4 years ago

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✧ 9th of september

(banri settsu x reader)

𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘳𝘪 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘢𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵.

𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2,175 words 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: happy (late) birthday to my mushroom head, banri! — [♡] I know his birthday is on a weekday but let’s just pretend it’s during a weekend. I was already in too deep into writing this when I realized September 9 falls on wednesday. — [♡] it’s late because i struggled in finishing this and i don’t like how it turns out and i almost made this into an angst lol.

“This is annoying.” He scoffs, eyes rolling out of irritation as the young man skids to a stop in front of Omi and Taichi’s room, a burning sensation creeping up from the pit of his stomach and consuming every inch of his body as his ears pricked up at the sound of her hearty laugh through the door, followed by Taichi and Kazunari’s muffled voices. Banri gritted his teeth, hand clenching on his side while he glowers at the wooden barrier separating him and his best friend, who had come over early on a weekend to the mankai dorm to hang out with him since he could only be with her during lunch time on weekdays as he needed to get home in time for their practice for a new play. Though he would not openly admit it, he had been looking forward to spending his weekend with her especially on his birthday that following day.

He woke up early on a Saturday but has been asked to accompany their director to a morning grocery run. Of course, he can’t say no to Izumi—sakyo would kill him, and he could not possibly let the brunette carry bags and bags of grocery all the way home.

When they came back, Izumi had to call out to him to slow down but he was already sprinting to the lounge, with a few eco bags hanging on each arm, expecting to see her waiting for him only to find out from Omi that the puppy pair had stolen his raven-haired girl, much to his dismay. He didn’t like that information, one bit. The old Banri would have kicked the door down and thrown the duo out of the window but this Banri—the leader of autumn troupe, a proud actor of Mankai, won’t do anything to hurt his fellow troupe members even when standing outside of the door, glaring at it as he listens to Kazunari crack up his lame jokes that had her bursting into fits of laughter, made him feel helpless.

Prior to him becoming an actor, it was just her and Banri. Not that he didn’t have friends before meeting her but they were not as steadfast and deep as it is with her.

His birthday has been the one thing he only genuinely enjoy celebrating with his family, he couldn’t care less for the gifts from the girls who admired him or of the ‘happy birthdays’ from his schoolmates, whether they were sincere or not he simply can’t be bothered. He’d just scroll through them anyway—clicking each messages and closing it just as fast he had opened them without so much of a glance. He would rather be out of the godforsaken place, taunting some other student from another school to a fight, he knew damn well he would win.

On his 16th birthday, however, the dull day took an unexpected turn—far different from what he had plan.

Autumn has started to come around. Wind is blowing a little colder in contrast to the warm hues of red, orange, and yellow that line the trees. The leaves that had parted from their branches and laid rest on the ground, breaks into hundred fragments under his expensive pair of shoes with a soft, satisfying crunch.

Hauling the hood of his grey jacket over his head, Banri languidly stride through the crowd of students pouring out of the building and dispersing into different directions—some made their way to the cafeteria while others excitedly ran to the field. The boy with light brown hair, however, is headed to a different route. At the far back of Hanasaki high.

Only known to a handful of delinquent, like himself, who skips classes almost on a daily basis. Lunch period is the perfect time to escape since students are scattered about the school grounds and he has about a few minutes’ window to flee before the next set of guards make their rounds.

“What the-” he muttered under his breath, halting in his tracks to observe the girl standing a few steps away from him. Her small hands tightly gripping the straps of her brown leather backpack with her head tilted towards the brick wall towering over her, she’s staring ahead most likely mulling over her plan.

Banri has heard about her quite a few times since the beginning of the term—the new student who transferred to Hanasaki from a foreign country but she is the least of his concerns for today. There has been talks of a tough guy from Ouka High with purple hair of some sorts and he wanted to see if he is as strong as they had made him to be.

Who am I fighting? Barney?

“The guards will be here any minute. If you don’t do it now, you’ll get caught.” He lets out a bored sigh, making his presence known by standing beside her, his hands casually tucked inside the pockets of his blazer.

“I don’t know how to.” she replied, truthfully, in a quiet voice. He peered at the girl, blue eyes scanning her features—short ebony hair falls about her face, creating a soft shadow against her cheekbones, the contrast of her dark locks against pale skin made her undoubtedly spectral. When she turns to look, her eyes are golden as the colors of the leaves that pirouetted in the air. It was bewitching and he couldn’t look away, not when her lips quivered and she is staring back at him with a silent plea.

His eyes shut closed, taking a deep intake of breath before glancing over at her again and groaning in response, “you owe me.”

The corner of his mouth turned up into an amused smirk as he watches her bounce on the balls of her feet, a small grateful smile gracing her features while she places a hand on his shoulder and a foot over his clasped hands, allowing him to hoist the shorter female over the wall. He had to avert his gaze when she raises both legs, ultimately hiking up her skirt as she turns around, letting them dangle on the other side.

“Do you need help?” she offered, a hand stretched in his direction but he shook his head in response while taking a few steps back, just enough to give him a boost to climb up the wall.

Having done it countless of times, it took him less than five seconds to get to the other side of the barricade, a smug grin etched on his face as he steals a glance at her; his fingers slipping through the gaps between hers and holding them in his before pulling her along as he started to run—heart pumping, feet slapping against the concrete floor as the two of them sprint along the alleyway.

Her calves were burning and she didn’t even know the guy yet she allowed him to lead her to wherever because it turns out, her escape plan wasn’t so much of a plan after all and he, somehow, ended up ditching his to show her around town. Leaving her to explore the foreign place, alone, wasn’t an ideal choice and there are a bunch of creepy men targeting naïve highschool students out there, she could end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Banri has always been indifferent to people for as long as he can remember. Befriending them? Sure. but having a meaningful, genuine connection? No, at least not until her.

On the 9th of September, instead of chasing after trouble or wasting away his day at the arcade, he is sitting down in a stall at the market with a tower of takoyaki and a single blue candle adorning the top as his “cake” yet it still happened to be the perfect birthday, in every sense.

She is tranquil and soft spoken—the loudest her voice got was almost in par with Banri’s normal tone, she is someone who he’d pass by the halls of school giving not even a second of his attention and their friendship might seem like a string of unrelated events to other people but what they have is unbounded. And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

She never tried to change him—she said, change is something he should do for himself not because she told him.

and though he is a blasé teenager, she still quietly adored him.

Whenever he is bored and feeling a little impulsive, she would stir him away from trouble but on days she is unable to stop him she would be anxiously waiting for him to knock on her bedroom window. Unable to calm until she’s seen him and tend his wounds and bruises all the while nagging at him and struggling not to cry at the same time.

“Oi,settsu. Quit staring at the door.” He whipped at the sound his Juza’s deep voice and sneered.

“What are you doing here, dumbass?” when her name left the latter’s lips, Banri’s nostrils flare as though smoke is going to come out of it. “Why is everyone suddenly best friends with my best friend!”

Banri is aware of how good he is at everything he does, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he passed the audition for autumn troupe albeit the lack of passion for it. She teased him for being juza’s stalker but if it wasn’t for her friend following the purple haired student into mankai, he wouldn’t discover that there are stuffs he could be passionate about—pour his heart into, eventually keeping him away from starting brawls. She stood by his side, almost every morning she would be at the dormitory to have him up in time for rehearsals and when she can’t come, she’ll call him a hundred times until he answers. Even with the absence of drive in the beginning and only ever interested in beating his roommate, she supported him.

He could have the craziest, utterly questionable dream and she will be there, sitting at the front row.

He recalled standing backstage after their first show, when he started getting serious and acting like a true leader of autumn troupe he had requested for her to watch him at the show instead. It was the first time in weeks since he’s seen her and he hoped their performance had blown her mind.

Holding a bouquet of dahlia in the lightest shades of pink, a wide contempt smile adorned her features and her amber eyes glistens at the sight of him.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, leaning forward, large hands framed her small face while his thumb wiped the tear that had unknowingly rolled down her cheek.

He held her with a gentle, affectionate gaze, heart swelling as she told him how proud she was of him.

“Dahlia has a lot of meaning.” Tsumugi answers while the two of them work in the garden that is slowly coming to life thanks to the older guy’s skill. Recognizing the small flower that has started to bloom he couldn’t help ask if it hold any significance.

“Standing out from the crowd because of their undeniable beauty is one.” definitely Settsu Banri.

“Offering a support, good luck, or a congratulation.” For falling in love with acting.

“Commitment and honesty.” Two words that best describes their friendship.

The last sentence definitely quirked his attention. “Proud love without compromise.” Hmm, interesting.

He certainly was not hoping the last one was one of the reasons why dahlias are her favorite. Sort of.

“Sounds like you’re jealous.” Juza shrugged his shoulders, unaffected by banri’s tantrum, and popped a lollipop into his mouth as he walks past the latter to enter room.

“Banny! Juza!”

“Hyodles and Settzer are here.” Banri briskly walked to the couch she is sitting on and plops over the empty space beside her. while listening to kazunari’s story, she bumped her shoulder against his quietly giggling making him break out into a smile, the crease between his brows soften as the familiar warmth rush through him at the sig her beaming at his direction.

He isn’t one to get easily jealous not even in his past relationships but why does the green-eyed demon visits every now and then, clawing at the seams of his heart every time she gets close to the other guys at mankai or when they steal her attention from him.

He has yet to unearth the reason though he has his suspicions and he can only pray that it does not ruin what he has with her or that she does not hear the thumping against his chest as she lie her head over it. For now, he basks in the light that is her.

“is there anywhere you want to go, tomorrow, before your party?” she inquires in a whisper, scooting closer to his side as he wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“Anywhere with you.” To the ends of the earth or the depths of hell, she only has to say the word.

#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! imagines #a3 x reader #banri settsu #banri settsu x reader #lasswrites #i am ded again #i love banri #uwu

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jenovahh · 3 years ago

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The Honey Pot - Ch. 27 - The Things that Made Us

It was hard to keep your stress down when you were planning to try and expose the biggest crime boss the world has ever known.

There’s hardly a moment Merlwyb isn't throwing you a concerned glance at the first sign of you getting worked up as you, her, and Cid sit around a big table filled with papers and photos. Empty sugar and cream packets that have gone into about three or four mugs of coffee. Half eaten snacks ranging from croissants to a bag of chips from the closest gas station (which given that Cid was rich and lived outside of the city, was quite far).

While you appreciate her worry, you’re near ready to pull your hair out as a result. At the first sign of you raising your voice, she places a gentle hand on yours reminding you to calm down. When you reach for a mug of coffee, she bats your hand away with a stern look. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear Zenos had put her up to it.

“I’m going to go crazy, Cid.” you confess, collapsing on a couch in his office, finished with another day of planning. Three heads were admittedly better than one, especially when one of them was a genius. “It’s like she thinks I’m made of glass despite being undercover for nearly a year with the worst gang the world has ever known.”

Cid lightly chuckles at that, having grabbed some dried calamari to snack on as he finishes up a few things in his office. “I think it’s her way of trying to take care of you, given that she feels she failed you so miserably.” Even though the statement is loaded with truth, Cid delivers it with a warm smile.

You can’t help but feel a little bad; Merlwyb was probably taking you under her care because she knows Raubahn would do the same.

“Cid, I came to you to vent. Not for you to make me feel bad.” You pout, kicking weakly at the cushions before rolling to face him as he settles in his desk. “I hope she doesn’t feel obligated to take care of me.” You murmur softly, barely a whisper as your heart fills with melancholy.

Settling in, Cid turns on his computer and begins to work. “It might be partly obligation. It might be repayment. But do those things matter?” he asks, giving you an inquisitive look. “Would you rather have her apathy and scorn?”

Shaking your head, Cid nods, typing away at his computer. “I know that it is something you struggle with, Honey, to accept a person’s affection. But you should try it sometime. You might be surprised at what you find.”

You can’t help but feel like a little kid around him sometimes, some worthwhile lesson always falling out of his mouth. You tell him as much. “Would it kill you to be wrong for once?” You joke, tossing him a lazy smile.

“I’m afraid it is my job to be right at least ninety-nine percent of the time, or I'd be up to my ears in lawsuits.” He laughs, having not stopped typing for a second. “You should get some rest, my dear. I’ll be up for a while yet.”

“Shouldn’t you sleep?” You return, sitting up to throw him a scrutinous look.

“Unless you’re able to pull a few strings I didn’t know about, and also prepare enough tech to take down a corporate super giant…” Cid trails off, looking as if he’s to start packing up.

“I get it, I get it, sheesh.” You groan, standing to your feet. “I think I will go to bed if it means I’ll actually get to be right, even if I’m by myself.” You huff, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure.

“You need it, growing babe be damned.” Cid smiles, pausing his work to see you off. “You’ve worked damn hard for us up until this point Honey. Let us return the favor.”

Giving him a heartfelt smile, you wave good night to him and head out the door, reentering the hallway. The night is quiet despite the fact an uprising looms on the horizon. Somehow it seems both close and far away, the idea that things would finally come to a head, sides would be taken and long buried truths would finally come to light.

These twilight hours were your only time of peace, a few sacred hours before you needed to wind down for bed before Zenos woke you up to train in the morning.

Your feet have carried you to him before you realize it, finding him meditating in the indoor garden. You watch him silently from behind the glass, the rising and falling of his chest, eyes closed as he finds his center and stays there. One of the few times he looks tranquil and genuinely at peace, and given the small glimpse you had of his personal life, of his past, perhaps it served more than just the purpose of calming his body.

Maybe his spirit needed it as well, though he would never admit it.

Jolting as his eyes suddenly flick open and land on you, you can’t help but be mildly embarrassed for staring so blatantly, and for so long. Thinking to shy away and meander down the hallway to go somewhere else (preferably far away), he’s already uncrossed his legs and stood, briskly walking to catch up to you before you can even get a fulm down the hall. “You are done for the day.” he observes, his long legs allowing him to catch up to you in no time at all.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re wrapping things up I suppose, or at least there’s nothing more I can do but wait.” You grumble, a little put out still despite Cid’s earlier words. “What have you been up to?”

“I’ve little to do, by your side.” he responds, voice surprisingly neutral.

“Do you miss...being in a gang?” you ask hesitantly, the two of you slowly walking wherever your feet take you. He seems to be following your lead rather than the other way around, and his slow stride suggests he’s not in a rush to go anywhere else except near you.

“No, and not for reasons one might think. I was apathetic toward my father’s bidding. Whatever his lackeys did, whatever shipments needed securing, it was all beneath my notice. My only concern was for the thrill of battle. Of storming hideouts and searching for new opponents.” He rumbles, the timbre of his voice vibrating in his broad chest. “In a way, I do miss the feeling of wondering if I would find a suitable opponent...the anticipation that would most times lead to disappointment...or joy.” Smirking, he gives you a burning look. “However, I’ve not felt that since meeting you.”

Huffing, you stick your tongue out at him. “Careful, that sounded almost romantic.” you groan, giving him a playful shove. Looking to your feet, you both are silent for a moment until you speak up again. “Sometimes I miss being a cop.”

He arches a brow at that, brushing a stray hair from his face. “Why would you miss such a…” he pauses as he searches for the right word. “...restrictive job setting?”

“I miss helping people. Or at least, feeling like I was helping people.” You answer, realizing you had somehow found yourself in the kitchen. Cid learned to keep some of your favorite snacks stocked here due to your frequent visits in the past. “I miss my friends, I miss my apartment, I miss just…”

“You miss your old life.” Zenos responds for you, taking the words right out your mouth. Once again his voice is neutral, giving away nothing, but he won’t let you see his face when you turn to gaze up at him.

Fumbling for the right words, you wring your hands together. “Let’s eat some ice cream.” You smile, buying you some time to think. You’re moving to circle the island in the middle of the kitchen before he can stop you, heading to the cabinets to reach for some bowls.

“Ice cream is unhealthy and full of unnecessary--”

“Zenos yae Galvus, if you do not get me two bowls down, I will gut you.”

He shudders at your threat and you can’t help but roll your eyes that only he would even get off on what is supposed to be a playful bluff. So what you could back it up? Though it was probably that very fact that excited him.

Doing as told he grabs two bowls for you, silent as he watches you move around the kitchen like you’ve lived here before. A familiarity that only comes with being welcomed into one’s home. You grab the spoons and point him toward the bar stools at the island, Zenos obeying without protest as you wrench the freezer door open and pull out your favorite Rolanberry ice cream.

You grab a heated scoop (specifically engineered by Ironworks technologies) to easily serve you and Zenos both, returning the ice cream to its place in the freezer before sliding Zenos his bowl and spoon. He looks at it questioningly as you sit down, diving right into your own ice cream. “This looks as if it was purchased from a...commoner store.” He sighs, poking at it questioningly.

“It was. Because I asked Cid to get it from a grocery store.” You reply, not missing a beat as you help yourself to another spoonful. “Hurry up and eat it before it melts.”

“Do you fear asking Garlond for higher quality sweets?” he asks, deciding to try a taste for himself. The face he makes shows that he is less than impressed and you can’t help but giggle at it.

“Not at all. This is just an ice cream I would eat a lot with Minfilia when I was a kid.” you answer, the uttering of her name not stinging as much as it used to. Maybe now that you had realized her captor, her killer, and that you were finally about to avenge her as you had promised, made it sting a little less.

Zenos is silent still, seeming uncharacteristically quiet. A little unnerved, you decide to answer his earlier question. “I do miss my old life. I miss my friends, Y’shtola and Lyse. I met them toward the end of high school. My truest friends. I haven’t talked to them since I told them I’d be going undercover to try and get close to you.” You muse, stirring your melting ice cream slightly before spooning it in your mouth.

“I miss my apartment. Even though it’s been nice never running out of hot water, having five star meals every day, sometimes I miss my shitty, little space. The tub with the terrible caulk job on the edges, the one panel on the blinds that would always break and never stay fixed. The spot on the carpet that wouldn’t come out after I spilled soda on it, no matter how hard I scrubbed.” You laugh thinking about it all, wondering if all your things had been kept safe.

“Sometimes I miss just feeling...normal.”

Though he says nothing, you can see Zenos’ brows furrow at the statement, smiling a little at his confusion. “I don’t know the specifics of the Resonant but up until...someone told me of the Echo, this whole time I thought I was ‘normal’. I thought I was like one of those Olympians, you know? That I was just really strong and had crazy fast reflexes. It never occurred to me that I was...something else entirely.” You murmur sadly, scooping a spoonful solemnly into your mouth.

“I remember so little of my childhood. It feels like it happened in short bursts. A period of just moving from place to place, until Minfilia took me, and ran away. Then there were the years with her, in bits and pieces, and then...nothing.” Finishing our ice cream, your vision unfocuses, as if staring at nothing. “Suddenly, as if I was just waking up, I was getting ready to graduate high school with my friends and joining the police force to find my mother’s killer.”

Looking up at Zenos, he stares back, but with an unreadable emotion on his face. Maybe, not necessarily unreadable, but as if he doesn’t know how to express however he’s feeling. “If you told me that I’d land myself in the lap of my mother’s killer and fall for his son two years ago, I wouldn’t have believed you.” You laugh bitterly as you finally make your way to the answer he sought. “But...as hard as it’s been...as painful as this has all been...I would never take it back.” You smile at him warmly, watching as his jaw clenches. “I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you otherwise.”

He is quiet still after your confession, and though he doesn’t say it back (part of you doubts he ever will), you are content knowing that you know he cares for you in his own way, by the gestures of how he cares for you. As he seems content to stew in his thoughts, you silently hook your finger on the rim of his bowl, dragging it toward you slowly while meeting his eyes in question. He only gives you a weak glare, but says nothing else, and you go ahead and drag it to your side of the counter and begin to eat his share of ice cream.

“The Resonant is a result of my blood.”

Looking up, you hadn’t expected him to speak. He looks uncomfortable, guarded, wary. “My mother was like you, a descendant of an Ancient. From what I understand it is rare for descendants to be born so closely together. The bloodline is passed down, but not every soul manifests its power.” He explains, toying with the ends of his fine hair, as if in a long buried, nervous habit. “To this day, I do not know what powers my mother had, just that she was unlucky enough to be caught by my father, and forced into his bed to create me.”

Frowning, you abandon your extra ice cream and reach across the island to place your hand on his. He jerks away from the contact initially, giving you a withering look, but at the look of genuine worry on your face, he curses under his breath. Returning his hand to the counter, he faces his palm upward, allowing you to clutch it with your own, running your thumb on his palm in nonsensical patterns.

“When I was born, I had shown no initial signs of ‘success’. No visible powers or abilities that would show that the bloodline of the Ancients could be used to create powerful offspring. It is why I am an only child. My father initially deemed it a failure and saw my mother as useless.” He continues, returning the motions of your fingers drawing patterns on his skin, focusing on where your hands are joined as he tells his story.

“This did not mean my father had given up hope of course. For all his airs of being a ruthless businessman, he is still a man of science. He never quit his experiments with aether, and drained every last bit of info from my mother he could until she finally ended her own suffering.” He ground out. Even as he crushed your hand within his quite painfully, you didn’t breathe a word of pain, not wanting to break this fragile moment.

“The majority of my youth, all I had known was testing at the hands of my father’s scientists. As young as ten years old, I had become well acquainted with the feel of needles, bright lights, cold rooms after my studies. I had rebelled in my youth of course, by using the power of my wealth, my prestige. I slept with anything that walked. Harmed anyone who dared cross me. It wasn’t like we didn’t have the money to pay the lawyers for it.” he sighed, his grip on your hand relaxing a bit. For a moment he is quiet, drawing patterns on your skin.

“It wasn’t until my early teens that my father’s best scientist finally had a breakthrough.”

His free hand reaches for the collar of his shirt, tugging it down forcefully to stretch the fabric more than it was intended. You see the beginnings of his tattoo, parts of the scales and talons that make up the dragon lurking beneath. “Aulus mal Asina...an eccentric most would call him as far as science goes. But it was just that sort of eccentricity my father needed after losing Midas nan Garlond to his own experiments.” Releasing a bitter laugh of his own, Zenos mumbled something underneath his breath before continuing. “He had proposed this tattoo.”

Even though Zenos’ focus has not left the sight of your hands twined together, as if it is the only thing grounding him in reality as he retells his life’s story, he goes on as if sensing your confusion. “Your power, the power of the Ancients, comes from that tattoo on the back of your neck. Or at least, that is the theory Aulus acted upon. Using this strain of thought, he made aether infused ink and put this dragon upon my chest, activating dormant blood...activating what he would call the Resonant.”

You can feel your own throat begin to close up, as you struggle to not shed a tear at how horribly Zenos had been treated. It was no wonder that his view of life was so incredibly warped, with a dad that was more concerned about turning his son into some sort of supernatural being than being there for him.

“It was also the last I had seen of Aulus. For when the Resonant activated, I had no control. It had felt almost like an out of body experience…” he trails off, a note of excitement creeping into his voice, but still he maintains his bitter expression. “I had...murdered anyone in the room with me in cold blood.” He sighs, hazarding a glance at you. Much like him, you keep your expression neutral, giving away nothing, deciding instead to scream from the inside.

“It took several tranquilizing darts to take me down. It was then I was put into my training to control the Resonant.” He rests the weight of his head on his free hand, still clutching your hand in his, drawing more random patterns on your skin. “The exhilaration I feel when in control of the Resonant cannot be compared. To be so fast, so strong, I had become obsessed with using it at any opportunity. It was then I became obsessed with the thrill of the hunt.” His eyes finally meet yours. “I had told you already how I would give myself impossible odds to fight against, until one day the thrill stopped.”

Something about that statement finally makes you meet his gaze, standing on the precipice of the unknown once more. “Do you still love me now? Even after all the monstrous things I’ve done? The people I’ve killed?” He questions, voice taunting on the surface, but you know better. Know him better than that.

You can hear the resentment that his father twisted him into the pained man he has become.

The bitterness that despite being rich, powerful, attractive, nothing would change how warped he felt inside.

The anguish that at this moment, he had bared his soul to you, let you see who he is in full...and that with his past now bared to you, you could leave him.

“Am I not any different?” You ask, clearly throwing him for a loop.

“You have only started maiming when I,”

“No, I haven’t.” You cut him off, your hand clutching his for comfort this time. Your vision goes dark around the edges as a long buried memory tries to dredge its way to the surface. “I don’t remember the details. Nor would I ever want to...all I remember is a sea of red. A knife in my hand. And dead bodies littering the floor because I was too late to stop them from taking Minfilia.”

Your breath begins to come fast, too fast, and Zenos snags you by the chin, forcing you to look at him, to acknowledge he is real and with you and you’re not standing in a pool of blood in this very moment.

“Gods help me, Zenos, did you think you could scare me away?” You laugh even though you tremble as you do so. “At this point who else could want a freak like me?”

You see something in his eyes, the spark that maybe he felt the same. That somewhere deep within him he craved love just like anyone else, no matter how much of his life he spent convincing himself the opposite. That he wanted to hold and be held, to kiss and be kissed, to experience the affection and adoration and care that he doubtless saw the many people around him experience over the years.

Of course he would fuck anything with legs. It was mostly likely the only time he got any sort of physical contact that wasn’t him being experimented on. The only time he knew someone wanted him.

Standing to your feet, you intend to do just that. You release his hand only long enough to circle the island and come to stand between his legs as he still remains seated upon the bar stool. Even sitting he’s still fairly tall.

Reaching for his hands, you bring them to loop around your waist, your arms effortlessly sliding underneath his own to hug him close. He seems unsure what to do for a moment, until his embrace eventually tightens, clutching you close, burying his face in your neck. “It could only be you, too.” You whisper, breathing him in. Your eyes flutter closed, wrapping yourself in his scent, his touch.

“There could never be anyone else.”

“It’s almost time isn’t it?”

Merlwyb glances at you from the corner of her eye as the two of you make your way to the conference room in Cid’s home.

“That it is.” She responds, hands clasped behind her back, turning her gaze back down the hall. “While we are certainly pushing the envelope in dethroning His Radiance in a timely fashion, it is good that we are getting it done at all.”

Nodding, you find that you agree. Though you were definitely cutting it close, it’s good that something was being done to knock this bastard down several pegs.

As you enter the conference room, Lord Hien is already on screen speaking with Cid as they converse about whatever particulars of the plan to take on Varis and expose him for his crimes. Zenos is there as well, arms folded across his chest and looking everywhere but the other two men, and you would go as far to say he almost looked as if he was pouting.

You’d hoped he would seem a little more enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, but through every meeting he sat quietly and neutrally, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to even feel a little bit angry by the plans being made to take down his father. You knew both Cid and Merlwyb were upset by his unwillingness to be involved, only placated by the fact he was not against them either.

You had described the horror of the Resonant to them, the sheer power and speed he displayed. You knew without a doubt Varis had kept his own son as a trump card, knowing of his killing capabilities. You had effectively taken Zenos from his hand by your “relationship” making taking him down much easier in theory.

You shudder to imagine what would happen if you had to go in a toe to toe fight with a Resonant activated Zenos.

Best to not think on it now. Not when it's time to focus on more certain things: like how you’re going to break into Varis’ compound.

“Hello everyone. Sorry I’m late.” you greet with a small wave, even to Hien displayed on the large monitor.

“Nothing to be sorry for. We weren’t talking about anything important. Wanted to save that until you got here.” Cid beams, giving you a welcoming smile. You give him a warm one in return, only able to ignore Zenos’ insistent stare for a little while longer before you throw him a reproving look, which does nothing but cause him to smirk back. Rolling your eyes, you move to sit in the chair beside him, clearly annoyed, but to all in the room it might as well have been foreplay.

“Ahem, well,” Cid coughs, angling himself at the monitor Lord Hien is displayed on as Merlwyb takes her seat beside him. “Since you’ve been here for the majority of the meetings, there’s not much new to say, except going over a few finer points.” Cid begins. “Lord Hien?”

“Yes, yes.” The handsome man nods, eyes turning to you. “The entire operation hinders upon the success of bringing down Varis’ research facility. While we could simply get video or picture proof, we do not run to the risk of him trying to cover up his tracks. We know he has been smart enough to play several hands over the years; there is no reason to not think he has no back up plan should someone see something they aren’t supposed to.”

“Or worse, he launches the technology to have a direct attack on the public. As you have told us before, he has already begun to develop weapons using this technology. We can’t bear the risk of him holding any more civilian lives hostage. We must cut off the source, and then we can handle any other weapons after.” Lord Hien’s voice is clear and concise, serious and awe inspiring. A true leader, you think, unable to not feel a little dazzled by him.

“That said, the day of infiltration, I will go into hiding. Varis has been content to let me live this long, but I would not put it past him to have some way of keeping an eye on me. Though I am capable of disappearing, he will no doubt notice this, and also notice something is going wrong.” Hien continues, threading his fingers together as he levels you with a serious gaze.

“While I hate to pressure you any further Honey, especially given how much you have done for Kugane so far, still I must ask, are you unable to recall where to find the research facility?” He asks, and all eyes in the room are upon you.

Fidgeting, you stare hard at the fine wood grain upon the table, hands fisted in your lap. “No...I don’t.” You sigh, feeling defeated. “The one time I had gone, I was so confused at where he was taking me, I didn’t think to pay attention to my surroundings. Even leaving, I had been so shocked at what he showed me, what he had told me--” you shudder as suddenly you remember the feel of his grimy hands upon you, pulling upon your clothes, his twisted words at how he would have you…

Zenos places a hand over the palms over your lap, expression giving away nothing. Nodding, you take a calming breath. “I was too distracted to take notice. Did none of our research efforts bear any fruit?” you ask, looking from one set of eyes to the next, begging that one of them will say yes.

They look back at you just as defeated, no one willing to make eye contact with you for a heartbeat. Clearing his throat, Cid speaks up. “Alas, even my most advanced sensors couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. I have no idea where it could be.”

The four of you twiddle your thumbs as you try to figure out what to do. Everything was ready to go. You could end this. Only you were too stupid at the time to remember something as simple as where the hell the secret laboratory was. You felt like you could smash a brick into your head.

Under the haze of your regret you can hear the others begin to talk again, perhaps discussing places they hadn’t thought to check, or avenues they hadn’t bothered to try. You tune it all out, unable to do anything aside from letting your own failure resonate inside you.

Resonate…

“Zenos.”

The room is quiet in an instant as you flip your hands over and clutch Zenos’ tightly, watching as his eyebrows reach for his hairline for a split second before they pinch together. “Zenos. I know we...I know we talked,” you offer vaguely, squeezing his hands that much tighter. “But please help us. We can put an end to this--”

“I told you I couldn’t.” He growls, his voice cutting so sharply, eyes so furious that you feel yourself recoil under his stare. But you knew this was bigger than you, and he had to know this too.

“Why won’t you help?” you plead, face breaking up as you watch a million emotions flit through his blue eyes. “Don’t you want to be free from your father?”

A shadow of something crosses his face, eyes unfocused as if lost in his own mind. He snatches his hand from yours as he comes back to himself, silent as he stands from his chair and stalks out the room. “Zenos!” you call, hurrying to your feet as he ignores you and flings the door open, uncaring that it slams into the wall. “Zenos!”

Following him, he’s once again halfway down the hall, deja vu urging you to catch up with him just as you had done that catalytic night at the hotel so many months ago. “Zenos, please,” you beg, trying to catch him before he rounds the upcoming corner. You don’t expect to be startled when he suddenly turns on his heel and snags you by your arms, nearly slamming you into the closest wall where he can loom over you menacingly.

You wish you didn’t feel so small before him during these times, especially now that you know how much he’s been hurting. “Zenos please, why won’t you help? Is it because of me?”

“Why would it ever be because of you?” He asks, his anger vanishing for a moment as he gives you an almost hopeless look. “I am saved by the very fact that you exist.”

“Then why?!” You whimper, trying to break out of his iron grip even as he grips your arms tighter. “Is it because the cause is too noble? Is it because you can’t go against your father?”

“Noble? What is noble about wanting to get revenge for your fallen friend? That still makes you a murderer, or have you forgotten?” he snickers darkly, ice blue eyes piercing directly into your heart. However you’ve known him too long. Long enough. Long enough to know that Zenos answers almost anything he is asked. That he doesn’t deflect, he doesn’t ignore you.

“Your father...what did he do to you that you can’t raise a hand against him?” You whisper, hating as you can see you’ve hit your mark when he goes stock still. His fingers are almost crushing in their strength, but you pay them no mind, needing to get to the heart of the matter. “Zenos, whatever it is, you don’t have to fear him--”

You cry out as he nearly throttles you into the wall, the sclera of his eyes almost bleeding black. “You know not of what you speak.” It is whispered so lowly, so vehemently, you can’t help but shiver in fear.

“But I want us to be happy.” You cry, tears leaking down your face, wanting to somehow get through to him. “I want you to be free from him Zenos, for us to be free. Forever--”

“Nothing is forever!” He nearly roars, but instead of maintaining the ferocity he had kept until this point, he couldn’t sound more shaken. “I cannot raise a hand against him. I cannot...I can’t. Not against my father.” he murmurs softly, though his grip has not decreased one bit.

Thinking quickly, you try to reason with him. “But I can.” you urge, praying that he will listen.

He barks out a hoarse laugh at that, fixing you with a derisive sneer. “Then what? Shall we both rot away in solitary confinement for our crimes?”

Whimpering, you wish he would just let go of you so you could hold him. “Chief Raubahn said I had immunity while on my mission,”

“Good for you.” He laughs again, leaning into your space. “And what of me? Do you think they’d be willing to overlook all the men I’ve killed? The things I’ve stolen and cheated for? Will your chief be willing to turn a blind eye to the monster I am?” he laughs maniacally, eyes flashing red for a brief moment before his expression becomes unfeeling. “I would sooner die than rot in prison, unable to fight.”

“Zenos,”

Dropping you, he doesn’t bother to grab you as you crumple to the floor, turning his back on you. “You are all fools to think you can even touch him.” Even at his scathing tone, you can see the haunted shadow that falls across his face, wondering just how much shit did that asshole put him through? What fucked up mind games did Varis play to have his own son that could snap him in half be too afraid to stand against him?

“I do this for you,” you cry, suddenly feeling exhausted, gazing up at him desperately. “I’ll fight ‘til my dying breath that they don’t lock you away. I refuse for us to not be together.” Tears begin to genuinely leak down your eyes now, even as you hear Merlwyb call your name as she rushes down the hall, surely ready to tear Zenos a new one. “Please...help us.” you beg, watching as he wars with himself, hating that he had gone through too much trauma to cause this hesitation. This fear.

“Honey!” Merlwyb calls as she crouches beside you, checking you over. Glaring angrily up at Zenos once she deems you unharmed, she stands back to her full height, nearly eye to eye with him. “You better have a good explanation, Garlean.”

Unamused and not intimidated in the least, Zenos scoffs, turning his back on the two of you. “Of course I do, savage.” He sighs, eyes still covered in shadow. “The facility is on the outskirts of the city, to the west. You cannot find it because my father has made it imperceptible to nearly all manner of tracking technology.” You watch as his shoulders sink, as if a heavy sin has suddenly put all its weight upon him.

“If you wish to find it, it is hidden under the guise of being a warehouse for father’s technologies, which is why the government has never investigated it. The true work is done nearly malms underground. If you truly wish to end my father as you so claim...reach the bottom of the facility. If you have someone smart enough to activate the shut down sequence, you can end his entire operation.” He pauses and reaches inside his shirt through his collar, pulling a chain with a key attached from underneath. “This will let you pass through any door.” He explains, dropping it to the floor.

He gives one final glance at you before walking away. You sit there broken, wondering how he could possibly turn his back on you. After getting on your knees to beg him to join you, to save the both of you from this nightmare. Even though you see a glimmer of regret in his fierce, blue eyes, it doesn’t stop him from walking down the hallway, into the darkness.

“Good luck.”

#ff14 #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #zenos #zenos yae galvus #THP

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

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Cold Feet

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 2643

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader

Summary: After two months of dating, you’ve come to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers is a perfect man. He simply has no flaw.

Or does he?

Warnings: all the fluff in the world, like one f-bomb and mentions of intercourse

After two months of dating, you came to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers was a perfect man. He simply had no flaw.

It was a little scary, really. Even your meeting was like something from a rom-com.

You had met him by chance when visiting your baby niece who wasn’t a baby anymore to be honest. She was five. But she would always be your baby niece, even when reaching 18, so that was irrelevant.

Your not-so-baby niece Karen had fallen off of monkey bars when playing on the playground and had broken her arm so skilfully that she needed to have surgery, hence staying in hospital for four days; there was no chance you would let her struggle through that without her favourite (read ‘only’) aunt by her side for even of those days.

And on the third day, fate pulled at some of its infamous strings.

As you hummed Karen’s momentarily favourite song under your breath, striding through the hospital halls with three different flavours (or rather colours) of Jell-O, wondering how else you could cheer your pouty cute niece, you rounded the corner.

Walking straight into the most perfect man of all men – as if ‘perfect’ wasn’t already a superlative.

“Whoa!”

The collision was hard, but the landing soft. Crushing into the wall of muscle would have sent you falling on your butt, but a swift hand secured you as it appeared under your shoulder blade, keeping you upright. Two plastic cups slipped from your fingers, landing in his palm covered in fingerless leather glove.

Your eyes snapped up to the face of a man with incredible fast reflexes and your heart jumped to your throat.

Holy shit he’s pretty.

“Sorry. Got it. You alright?”

I just fell in love with a voice. God, his eyes are blue— no, not pure cerulean blue, but holy mother of God, I’m drowning-

“Madam?”

Worry had his brows furrowing and you quickly jumped from his warm grip, gulping. He let you go, those goddamn eyes watching your every move as if he expected you to trip over your own feet, which was a valid concern, actually.

“Sir,” you blurted out in response instinctively at such addressing, your brain finally catching up with your mouth. You scanned him head to toe, realization slapping you in your face. Oh. OH. “Sir. Cap-captain. S-sir.”

You had crushed into Captain freaking America; he even had his shield on his back. You were so going to be deported. Oh boy, you hadn’t even apologized yet.

What the hell was he doing in child’s ward anyway? In a plain boring hospital?

You were proven wrong on your earlier evaluation when the corners of his lips rose, spreading his lips in a brilliant shy smile; he wasn’t pretty. He was prettier.

He wiggled the cups in his hand, holding them out for you. You took them wordlessly, too stunned and embarrassed to talk.

“And just for who these are?” he asked sweetly, genuine curiosity lacing his voice. “Daughter? Son?”

“Karen! I mean— my niece! They are for my niece. Whose name is Karen. I said that already,” you babbled, closing your eyes simultaneously with your mouth.

God, somebody shoot me. Or throw your shield at me, whatever.

Status: still hadn’t apologized to him.

Heavy footsteps had you opening your eyes, only to find the blonde Adonis in uniform still smiling at you, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Cap, you’re supposed to be cheering up kids, not the ladies, no matter how pretty they are,” a man – an Ironman, the Ironman, to be precise, Tony freaking Stark – grunted from behind the soldier, casting a smirk your way.

Now seriously, somebody shoot me, please.

You eyed the Captain, resisting the urge to bite your lip; thank heavens you weren’t the blushing type otherwise you’d be red everywhere. He only looked a bit annoyed with his colleague, his gaze fixed on you. The smile never left his face.

“Why not both?”

And that was it. That was how your life turned upside down, starting with shy smiles, lingering gazes, heart-warming date nights, hesitant hand-holding, tender kisses growing into daring making-out sessions. Comforting hugs, days dedicated to worrying over him coming from god-knew-where in one piece, few nights spent in the medical ward sitting by his bedside, sleep escaping you. Brain mostly on vacation, heart behind the steering wheel.

You were in love. You were so much in love with the amazing man that words didn’t seem like enough to express it. You spent the most amazing two months with him, having nothing – or nearly nothing – to complain about; because even after the rare sleepless night by his bedside, he would wrap you in affection and made you feel like everything was more than okay.

In every conclusion possible, Steve Rogers was perfect. Maybe way too perfect.

And it wasn’t that you felt like less – he showed his adoration for you so clearly you couldn’t but feel special despite being plain ol’ you, because he was perfect like that.

The first time you two made love – there was no calling it differently, because it had nothing to do with fucking and calling it sex might have been anatomically accurate but desperately lacking the sentiment – he nearly worshipped you. You enjoyed it immensely, returning the favour. It was a very long night and perhaps… few times the tender passion did blur the lines and shifted towards the f-word in the best possible way.

It was no wonder that when you woke up on your own after that first night together, checking the time and finding it was only seven a.m. on a Saturday morning, you scooted closer to feel Steve’s sleeping form. Head nestled on his chest (an absent grumble vibrating his ribcage at your disturbance of his dreams), arm sneaking over his waist (causing his own to pull you closer), feet tangling-

You yelped, jerking away from his body so fast you nearly tipped over the edge of your bed. Steve shot up into sitting position, instantly on alert, sharp gaze wiped away of sleepiness in a second, scanning the room for threats.

He clearly found none, settling his confused eyes on you, his shoulders relaxing.

“Whatzit?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes as if examining you would tell him.

You stared right back at him, unable to form words.

Until you could.

“Your feet are freezing!” you accused him, horrified.

What the hell?! Steve was a walking space-heater. He always enveloped you in his arms when your teeth were clattering, because you wore a dress for a romantic walk through the frozen Central Park in attempt to please his sight. Sure, now his feet slipped from under the covers, sticking out of bed really, because he was freaking tall, but… what the hell?!

He blinked in confusion before an adorable blush coloured his cheeks, already red and creased from the pillow.

“Sorry for that.”

“Sorry for-“ you parroted, dumbstruck, your sleepy brain processing the sensory input of his toes fucking freezing against your feet very slowly. “Is that normal? Are you sick? Aren’t you- aren’t you supposed to be immune to all diseases?”

Steve was literally radiating embarrassment at that point, his fingers working on scrunching the sheets, his eyes glued them as if nothing else on this world mattered.

“I am immune. It’s just… I always had it like that.”

“But your hands are always so warm!” you protested. That usually was the combo, right? People had cold hands and feet, circulation shit – not that Steve had any problem with circulation last night--ugh.

Cold hands usually came together in a package deal with cold feet, period – hell, you knew it yourself on occasion. But Steve…?

Steve grimaced.

“I used you have them cold too,” he admitted, oblivious to the amazement that started to replace your surprise. Oh god. Oh boy. A miracle had happened! Steve Rogers actually had a- “The serum fixed it, but not… uh, not my feet. Usually it’s not an issue, when I’m on the move it’s fine, exercising and-“

He trailed off as if not knowing what else to say to his defence (as if he needed any). Teeth worrying over his lower lip, he glanced up at your face. A smile was spreading on your face and he possibly took it wrong way, because he groaned, falling flat on his back to the cushions and stole your pillow – only to hide his face in it and try to smother himself.

You giggled into your palm, delighted, and got up, your bare feet tapping with each step as you made your way to your cabinet. The choking noise coming from the bed at your action sounded suspiciously like Steve screaming into the pillow.

You contained more laughter, hesitating before making the final decision.

Screw it. You manipulated the item you had come for from the very back of your drawer, closing it gently and went to sit at the end of the bed by Steve’s feet which magically disappeared back under the covers. You reached for the hem of the blanket, but stopped, thinking twice.

“Do not kick me,” you warned him, sneaking your hand into the warmth and lifting the blanket, revealing the source of discussion. Steve honest to god whined – in embarrassment, you assumed – when you touched his left ankle.

You carefully lifted it and rolled one sock on. The soft sensation seemed to give Steve a pause and he peeked at you, rolling the pillow just enough to free his surprised eyes. He didn’t protest though, watching you as you put on the other sock as well with a compassionate smile. He hesitantly lost the pillow completely when you scooted over to sit at his waist.

He wiggled his toes in the fluffy colourful socks to examine them. He was adorable, more so wearing them.

“Thank- thank you,” he whispered, still slightly embarrassed, but not saying a word of complaint. “How are these my size?”

You cleared your throat, for the millionth time since you met him grateful you weren’t the blushing type.

"Because they were for you," you admitted sheepishly, earning a raised eyebrow as he once more looked over the striped red-white sock with a plush reindeer on outer side of his ankles. "As a cute and silly Christmas gift until... uhm, until I figured out the perfect one."

“Oh,” he let out intelligently, causing you to leave your nervousness behind. “Thanks.”

You giggled. “You’re welcome, Steve. They look great on you.”

Adorable. And what more, proving the incredible fact that you had been wrong about him. About him being absolutely perfect.

He pouted then, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’re enjoying this too much. Why?”

Of course he would notice. You shrugged and stopped fighting the grin attacking your lips, not feeling like denying it.

"You... you actually have a fault," you announced cheerily, which took him aback greatly.

"I have plenty of those," he said matter-of-factly, propping himself on his elbow to be closer to you. You only shrugged again.

"Possible.” Not quite. “But this... this is just a reminder of you being only human."

Steve tilted his head then, curious about your train of thought. It only proved your previous theory that wasn’t quite right now, not without that one exception; he was curious about you, always listening to what you had to say, patient listener even when you simply rambled.

"You've seen me hurt. That’s pretty human."

You scoffed, chasing the image of him, unconscious, cut, bloody and attached to a heart monitor, away from your mind momentarily.

"Oh, I did. I do not enjoy that despite seeing the wound literally closing in front on my eyes. You're not invincible, apparently,” you noted dryly, causing that little wrinkle to create on his forehead as the guilt for making your worry displayed. You bit your cheek before trying to explain how you felt about this ridiculous discovery about him. “But, you know... that's something... serum-related, Captain America related.”

Judging by the expression on his face, he was still not getting it. You sighed and pointed at the reindeers.

“This? This is personal... intimate somehow? Something I get to know, because I know you, I get to see the tiny flaw-“ you stopped in midsentence, realizing you were babbling more than usual and more importantly, wondering just how uncomfortable this had to make him.“Is it weird? Am I-- I'm being weird, aren't I? Shit. Sorry."

Steve’s nose crinkled at the bad word you used, but he let it pass without comment in favour of a more pressing matter. His face was kind as he opposed you swiftly.

"No! No, it's... I think I understand,” he assured you, something unfamiliar twinkling in his eyes. He smiled then, a soft curve of his lips. “And thank you. It works wonders. It’s… much better."

You only flashed him a brief smile, lowering your gaze. You took a deep breath, only partly comforted by his words. Steve would always let things slide easily, even when you crossed a line you shouldn’t have crossed, said or done something that wasn’t quite appropriate; when you were being your weird self.

It was your turn to fumble with the blanket, self-depreciated, wavering to make one more confession, admitting to your fear, once more oversharing.

"Okay. I’m glad. Uhm… I-- I wouldn't want you to get cold feet," you mumbled, not quite sure if you wanted him to read between the lines and consider cold feet more than bodily reaction to low temperature.

Silence fell on your bedroom, stretching for long enough to wreck your nerves. You clenched your jaw, forcing your fingers to stop moving, which only resulted in you gripping the sheets instead.

Looking down, you only caught a glimpse of Steve straightening, seating himself on his heels. The fingers of his right hand gently threaded into your locks, slipping to cup your cheek, forcing you to lift your chin and meet his gaze.

Steve always seemed too kind to you, appreciating you, cherishing you even, in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend; meeting his eyes now, you saw nothing but pure adoration and a hint of vulnerability, gratitude at your willingness to admit some of your fears.

He had caught the double meaning of your words, there was no doubting that. Seeing none of your timidity resolving, an amused spark twinkled in his eye. He patted his ankle pointedly with his free hand.

"Well, with warm socks like these...” he hummed, his face inching closer to yours as he held his gaze locked with yours. His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek, his lips finally close enough to brush yours for a passing second. Your eyes fluttered shut, revelling at the sensation. God, you were so, so lucky to have this man… “And with such beautiful and caring woman like yourself... how could I?"

You barely had time to sigh in relief when his mouth caught yours in another kiss, this time a proper one, morning breath be damned. His hand on you angled your jaw to deepen the kiss, the other sneaking around your waist and lower to urge you to sit on his lap. You weren’t hesitant to obey, rewarded by a content rumble deep in his chest and a tease of tongue.

Needless to say, the socks came off soon enough. After all, morning exercise would keep you both warm enough. Especially when performed in the bed sheets.

Later and later on, you would find a lot more flaws of Steve’s – involving unbearable stubbornness and recklessness, traits which you sometimes wanted to punch him for –, but this very first you had discovered would always feel special.

Steve never got cold feet ever again. On your wedding day, you were grateful for it more than ever.

#marvel #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #fluff #christmas fluff #close enough anyway #cute and cozy #one shot #fanfiction #anika ann

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golden-deer-dear · 5 years ago

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Sing Me to Sleep, Claude x Byleth Fic

Summary: There are fears that keep them both up at night, fears at seem to disappear within the other's presence. So they will cling to each other, taking these small moments to rest.

Notes: So, my birthday is usually not a good day for me, because family and all that. But this year, this fandom, and a particularly wonderful discord server, has already made it a lot better than it usually is. And since I really enjoy giving gifts, I decided I was going to write something on my birthday to thank you guys for just being wonderful. Love you all. Go out and have a good day for me!

Read on AO3.

Sing Me to Sleep

Byleth took a deep breath, tilting her head back to gaze at the stars above. It was catching up to her, the weariness she tried to fight away. Her body felt heavy and slow, making her movements drag. She was going to become a liability in battle if she did not get some rest soon.

But that was another problem all of its own. Byleth sighed, her head dropping back down until her chin touched her chest. Her eyes drifted shut for a split second before snapping back open. No! She could not close her eyes! Not yet at any rate. She needed to find a way to regain her energy without actually needing to sleep.

If only such a thing were actually possible. She sighed for a third time in as many minutes. Even researching the topic was becoming a problem. Every time she tried to read, the words simply swam in her eyes and she could not retain any information.

“That’s a lot of worry you seem to have there, Teach. Want to talk about it?”

Byleth’s head snapped up, and she blinked a few times to clear her vision. Claude stood in front of her, his signature grin on his lips. But it was his eyes she focused on. There was no joy there, only worry. That was the last thing she wanted. She had tried so hard to hide her problems from the rest of her comrades. Claude especially did not need anything extra on his plate right now. He had the Alliance to worry about as well as being one of the leaders in this war. She could not be another thing drawing his attention away from his ambitions.

She shook her head, the movement making her dizzy. She wobbled ever so slightly, trying to grab onto the railing of the bridge in a way that seemed natural. But of course Claude’s sharp eyes tracked the movement, and the smile fell from his face. Still, she tried. “I’m all right, Claude. You should go get some rest.”

“I can say the same to you, my friend,” Claude shot back. He stepped up to her, crossing the distance so fast Byleth’s tired mind did not realize he had even moved until his hand was on her elbow, giving her another branch of support. She took it instinctively, leaning into his touch and fighting the urge to simply fall.

"Come on," Claude urged gently, one arm wrapping around her shoulders as he tried to guide her away from the bridge. "Let's get you back to the dorms."

"No!" Byleth protested vehemently. She ripped herself away from him, staggering as her body fought once more to stand on its own. Her fingers tore at the stone of the bridge as she grasped her new support, breaking a few nails in the process. "No, I'll be fine, Claude," she said, breath still coming in heaving gasps and doing nothing to reassure either of them.

Claude wore open worry on his face for the briefest of moments, gone so quickly Byleth was surprised she was able to catch it flash through his eyes. "Come on," he repeated. "This isn't doing you any good. Tell me what's wrong." He moved toward her again, slipping his arm around her shoulders once more, all the while watching for another sign of protest dictating he should move away. "Let me help, Teach."

Byleth shivered as his warmth settled around her, clashing with the chill of the night air she had lingered in for so long now. She did not want to tell him. She had not wanted to tell anyone, for there were larger concerns to address than her own fears. For that was what it was, fear that kept her eyes open when the moon had long lingered overhead. And yet, the words poured out of her, her mind too tired to protest or lie, giving up the fight in the face of Claude's genuine concern.

"I'm scared to close my eyes," she finally admitted, speaking the words that had haunted her ever since she woke to find the world so changed. "What if I sleep for another five years? What if I leave you all again, and this time when I wake you aren't there? What if I sleep even longer this time, and wake up to only dust and ruins? I'm so afraid I won't wake up. Every time my eyes close this tightness grips my chest and keeps me from breathing."

Claude's arm tightened around her, drawing her even closer to his side. And that was dangerous. He was so warm and comfortable Byleth could feel her eyes growing heavy with every step they took.

Her eyes shot back open, realizing only now they had left the bridge and were almost past the officer's academy. Her breathing quickened, knowing it would not be long before they reached the dorms, before they reached her room. She turned, exhaustion transforming her into a panicked animal as she attempted to flee.

But Claude held her close, unwilling to let her go a second time. "Teach, it's okay," he tried to reassure her, his voice soft and low. "You're going to wake up this time, I promise. I'm going to be beside you all night, and in the morning if you don't wake up on your own, I'll wake you up myself. And then those pretty green eyes of yours can watch the sun come up with me, and we'll actually get you some breakfast for once." He ended his words with a light laugh, his hand squeezing her shoulder.

Byleth mulled it over, turning his words in her mind as she attempted to process any of it. By the time they reached her room, her tired brain had grasped onto his promises, desperate for any sort of relief. “You’ll stay?”

“Of course.”

Claude opened the door to her small room, guiding her to the bed in a twirl. Byleth felt for that brief moment she was in a dance, Claude spinning her away before he would pull her back into his arms. But he didn’t bring her back, much to Byleth's surprised disappointment. Byleth’s legs hit the bed and she sank onto it, her eyes struggling to stay open. She needed this so much, but it had frightened her.

But Claude had promised, so things were different now.

Claude knelt before her and began to remove her boots. Byleth was very glad for the darkness in the room hiding her suddenly heated cheeks. His hands were sunlight, even through her tights. It was intimate, but in the way one friend cared for another, absolutely nothing more than that. (Byleth was very much lying to herself in that instant.) It was over in the span of a heartbeat, Claude standing and easing off her coat before guiding her down onto the bed.

Somehow he got her under the covers, tucking her in tight. A memory, almost as old as her, surfaced in her mind. Her father stood over her, his face stern as he brushed the face from her face. Go back to sleep, kid. Those nightmares can’t hurt you.

Byleth blinked, the vision of Jeralt fading back into her memories. Claude removed his own cloak, slinging it over the back of her chair before settling himself in. She watched as he crossed his arms in front of him, his chin resting against his chest.

“Claude?”

His brows raised without his eyes opening. “You’re supposed to be sleeping, Teach.”

Byleth ignored him. “Are you really going to sleep in that chair? It can’t be comfortable.”

There was enough moonlight filtering in through her small window that she could see Claude smirk, the kind that would reach his eyes if they were open. “Not the worst place I’ve ever slept before, my friend. Now, do me a favor and sleep before you cause my poor heart to ache.”

She wanted to. Every bit of her body screamed for rest, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Looking at him made her chest feel funny. It had ever since she walked back up those stairs and he had greeter her as if she had not left for five years. He was precious to her, she knew that much, but all her Deer were important. Why did it feel so different with Claude?

A low hum caught her ears, cutting off that confusing train of thought. The melody chased it all away, every doubt and uncertainty. And then he opened his mouth, Claude’s low voice singing in an unfamiliar language, but it didn’t matter that she could not understand. It made her smile all the same. It was gentle and sweet, like the wind in the leaves or a river in summer. It was right.

Byleth finally allowed her eyes to fall shut, Claude’s voice an echo chasing away her fear.

Claude knew he was being ridiculous. He knew his current anxiety was all just a part of his own imagination. Still, it did not stop his feet from finding their way to her door. He stood still as a statue, looking like a complete fool with his hand hanging inches in front of the wooden barrier, unable to bring himself to knock.

“Claude?” Her voice was low with exhaustion, a lilting quality to the question.

His hand moved to the back of his head, gloved fingers running through his hair as he turned to face her. “Hey, Teach!” he greeted, voice too high and smile too wide to fool her.

Byleth stood there for a long minute, silence stretching on a thin string between them while her green eyes when through him, her gaze piercing him like an arrow through muscle rendering him unable to move. Claude felt he could not even breathe until she broke the sudden thickness in the air by stepping forward. Byleth worked her way past him, opening the door and motioning for him to follow.

Claude breathed deeply when he stepped into the room, lingering in the doorway to allow himself time to take it all in. Lavender from the fresh flowers on her desk combined with the smell of oils used to clean weapons and fresh linens, giving the place a smell that was uniquely Byleth. He briefly wondered which of the girls had picked flowers for her this morning. He knew Marianne, Mercedes, and Lysithea rotated the daily gesture between themselves. (Annette was gently encouraged out of the rotation after breaking a fifth vase.)

It was a reminder that she was there, that she had come back and Claude wasn’t in some waking dream where she would disappear again. He couldn’t handle that. No, he had spent five long years hoping, working through and finally realizing why his heart ached every time he thought of her. He could not lose her again.

“Claude?”

Claude blinked, breaking himself out of his stupor and silently cursing himself for not paying attention. From the concern in Byleth’s eyes he knew it was not the first time she had called his name. “Ah, sorry Teach. Must be more tired than I realized.” Claude tried to laugh it off, rubbing the back of his head again. He knew it would not fool her. Byleth always seemed to see right through him.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

She asked it casually, like she was commenting on troop movement rather than inviting him to something more intimate. Claude felt himself freeze, wide eyes staring at her as his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. Of course he wanted to. He wanted it more than anything. For Byleth to be his lover, to hold her in his arms in a way no one else ever would. Claude wanted it as much as he wanted to unite the world together.

Something in his face must have given away his thought process. A light blush made its way across Byleth’s cheeks, just visible in the moonlight. She held his gaze, but her eyes filled with uncertainty. “I meant on the bed.” She flinched ever so slightly, seeming to realize her words only further served to muddy the situation. “I...I haven’t been sleeping well, not since the last time you were here. I wanted to ask you to stay, but I’d hate for you to sleep in the chair all night again.”

“Ah,” Claude said on the exhale of a sigh, using the moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t mind.”

Byleth cut him off with a sharp look. “I do. I saw the way you were rubbing your neck the next day. I’m not about to have you in pain when there’s enough room here for us both.”

Byleth removed her coat and tossed it over the back of her chair. Her boots and armor pieces followed next, leaving Claude flushed as he watched her strip. He breathed deeply through his nose and forced himself to look away when she began to remove her top. Byleth apparently had zero qualms about propriety, a sentiment Claude would usually share, but under the circumstances it felt like a violation.

He did not raise his head again until he heard Byleth throw the covers back. She wore only a pair of sleeping shorts and a loose top, but the sight of her in the moonlight sent his heart beating fiercely.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” Byleth assured him, but there was a lost look in her eyes that broke Claude’s resolve.

He stepped forward, quick fingers removing his overcoat and cravat. The sash with its woolen poms came off as well before Claude settled himself on the edge of the bed. He used the long moments he took toeing off his boots to steel his mind, before flipping over dramatically to face Byleth. She shook her head, snuggling her cheek into her pillow, but her eyes sparked with joy.

There was enough room that they were close without touching, but he could feel the heat of her body. The scent of her invaded his nose as he repositioned head on the pillow. “Better, my friend?”

“Yes,” Byleth said, straightforward as always. “Thank you.”

Claude watched, mesmerized as her fingers toyed with the edge of the covers. Her eyelids drooped, but for whatever reason he could see she was fighting to stay awake a little longer. “What is it?” he whispered, fighting the urge to reach out for her hand.

Byleth drew in a deep breath before she answered. “That song you sang last time. Could you sing it again?”

A brilliant grin spread across Claude’s face, making Byleth flush and bury her face in her pillow. It was adorable how unafraid she had been to ask him to sleep with her, but this request made her hesitate.

Claude opened his mouth, unable to deny her request. His low voice filled the room with the simple melody, stumbling only for a moment when Byleth finally closed her eyes.

Oh the stars above

Shine to light my way

Light my way

Back to you

Sleep well

Sleep tight

Oh precious one

For when you wake

And the stars have said their goodbyes

I shall be at your side

And your smile

Oh it shall light my way

In their stead

“Those aren’t the same words you sang before,” Byleth whispered when the last notes faded, her voice low as she fought off sleep a moment longer.

“No,” Claude admitted, unable to help himself from leaning in closer to her. He was smart enough to know there was no point in denying it. “They weren’t.”

Byleth hummed lightly, unconsciously snuggling closer to Claude’s warmth. “Claude, you promise to wake me up again, right?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately. He did not know what made him continue, again being so reckless with his secrets. It was as if her mere presence was intoxicating him, loosening his tongue easier than any drink. “Just promise you’ll be here in return.”

Byleth’s eyes flashed open, suddenly awake and aware. Realization stirred something in those mint green depths. She reached out, entangling their fingers together beneath the covers. “Promise.”

Byleth watched in horror as Claude once more spiraled downward. But this time his body did not land in a broken and bloody heap. This time, the wyvern had enough time to right itself before it crashed into the earth. The impact threw Claude from the saddle, but she saw him roll onto his side and moan.

Byleth stumbled toward him, blood flowing from her nose and filling her mouth. She did not have another divine pulse in her. She would not have been able to save him if she had failed this time. She could not lose him. She needed to make sure, needed to see that stupid smug grin of his to know he was all right.

“Hey, Teach,” Claude groaned through bloodied teeth when she reached his side. “You look terrible.”

Relief surged through her, and Byleth dropped to her knees beside him. The battle was coming to a close, and there were others capable of cleaning up. Right now, she could not bring herself to be anywhere but here. “I can say the same to you.”

Claude grinned, wincing in pain when he tried to sit up. He dropped back heavily, breathing raggedly. And yet that grin stayed in place. “Are you saying you don’t find my rugged good looks appealing? I’m hurt.”

Byleth ignored him, pulling magic to her fingertips to pour what little white magic she knew into his body, a desperate attempt to ease his wounds. She felt herself wavering, fighting to keep herself upright. She should stop, she knew she should, but the sight of Claude unmoving before her filled her mind. Despite the man himself joking in front of her, the thought of him broken and ruined refused to let go.

“Hey!” She heard him call out to her, but it sounded very far away. “Hey!” This time he grabbed her hand. Byleth gasped softly as she was pulled down beside him, Claude clutching her to his chest. “You’re going to overdo it there, my friend.”

She buried her face against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat loud and reassuring. It was what she needed to break her out of her fervor. Byleth crumbled silently, shivering in Claude’s arms as she fought through emotion after emotion trying to overwhelm her. Claude didn’t complain. He held her tight, giving her the time she needed.

“Hey, I just realized something,” Claude said lightly once she lay still in his arms. There was still a hint of pain in his voice, but his breathing sounded almost normal again. “You’re on the wrong side of the bed.”

Byleth blinked, taking a moment to process what he meant before realizing that she was indeed lying on the opposite side of him than she usually did when they shared a bed. Byleth’s face scrunched in displeasure. It felt odd, not wrong but slightly off, but she was too tired to care. She snuggled back against Claude, letting her eyes fall shut.

Before she drifted off, she could have sworn she felt his lips press against the top of her head. “Me too, By. Me too.”

She did not know how long she managed to sleep before Hilda’s squeal of joy woke them, but it was definitely not long enough.

Claude was so happy his heart could burst. The sun was setting, the last of its rays clinging in Byleth’s hair, just as Claude clung to her. She sat curled in his lap, comfortable in each other’s presence and basking in the glow of their shared feelings. Byleth hummed contentedly as she repositioned herself, leaning her head back against his chest to listen to his heart.

The offensive organ beat faster, betraying his eagerness to her. “Are you sure it’s supposed to do that?” Byleth asked, a concerned frown on her face.

Claude chuckled, low and heavy, relishing the way it made her shiver. “Yes By, I’m sure. It’s because you make me happy.”

“That doesn’t seem very convenient,” she countered. And yet she kept her head in place, listening to the steady rhythm.

The last of the sun’s light finally vanished behind the mountains, and the stones around them quickly grew cold. Claude sighed and stretched his legs. What he would have to do now would be among the hardest things he’d ever have to do in his life. “I need to go,” he said softly, kissing the top of Byleth’s head.

Byleth sighed unhappily and lifted her head. She remained curled in his lap, her hand rising to cup his cheek and guide him in for a kiss. The metal of her ring was already warm from her hands, and the feel of it sent another jolt of happiness through him.

Their kiss was sweet, a reminder of love against the other’s lips, a need to imprint the memory of their touch against the other. The hungry desperation of their first kiss hours ago had mellowed into a more subtle longing. This would be the last time they held each other in who knew how long, and they each needed for the moment to last.

“I’ll be back,” Claude promised again, whispering the words against her lips.

“I know,” Byleth answered back simply, her trust in him unshakable. And that was something Claude could not linger on. He was having a hard enough time as it was.

“You’ll take care of yourself, right? You’ll be able to sleep?” he added, clarifying what most worried him.

Byleth’s smile was so warm, her eyes full of so much love, Claude came very close to saying screw Almyra and never even entertaining the thought of leaving her side again. “I’ll be fine, Claude,” she reassured him. Her other hand reached up, framing his face with her small sword calloused hands. “I have your ring with me now. I know you’ll come back for me, so I’m not worried. Of course,” she drawled, mischief finding its way into her smile, “I’d much rather your warmth beside me, so don’t take too long.”

Claude flushed, feeling the heat of his blush all the way to the top of his ears. “That was too adorable.”

Byleth’s nose scrunched, that barely there tick of annoyance when she was mildly displeased. It just made Claude laugh and pull her tight against him once more. “I won’t be long. If anyone attempts to delay my return to you, they’ll have a very unpleasant time of it.”

Byleth’s breathy laugh made his heart do that moronic swelling of a fool too much in love for his own good. He would cling to his memories of her, to this moment. Nothing would motivate him more than the thought of once more cuddling into the same bed as Byleth, sharing her warmth as they intertwined with one another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I tried to get that song to format correctly, but ugh tumblr.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #claudeth #claude x byleth #claudeleth #claude von riegan #byleth #my fic #fanfic #one shot

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grootiez · 5 years ago

Text

Tell Me What You’re Searching For- Chapter 2: Self Awareness

Later that night, Peter was making his rounds throughout the house, checking on each member of the Guardians. He was just walking up the hallway that led to Groot’s nursery when he heard music coming from the baby’s room in the form of Groot’s ukulele that Gamora gave him for his 2 week birthday.

Peter opens the door by the tiniest crack, making sure not to let the door make the smallest creak, which would surely wake up Groot.

As he got a better view of Groot’s nursery, Peter saw something most peculiar. Rocket was sitting on Groot’s rocking chair, cradling the baby Flora Colossus, who was quietly crying in his pot while the raccoon was holding him in his arms, while at the same time playing Groot’s ukulele gently and singing to his son softly.

Peter strained to hear what Rocket was singing, but when he was able to discern what the raccoon was singing, the humie smiled.

“Tell me something, Groot.

Are you happy with these assholes?

Or do you need more?

Is there somethin’ else that you’re searchin’ for?”

It was sweet that Rocket was singing to Groot. Even though the baby wasn’t officially the raccoon’s adopted child, Rocket was protective of the tiny Flora Colossus and would do anything for Groot’s safety and well-being as the seedling mindlessly strummed gently on the ukulele strings.

“I’m falling.

In all the good times I find myself...

Longin’ for change.

And in the bad times, I fear myself-.”

Just then, Peter clumsily stumbles while leaning against the doorway as he listened to Rocket’s sweet dulcet voice singing to Groot. Rocket’s ears didn’t even twitch at the sudden disturbance in the otherwise quiet room as the raccoon put down Groot’s ukulele by the baby’s crib. Unfortunately, Rocket’s enhanced hearing picked up on every single nuance of sound, no matter how soft.

“I heard you, Star-Munch.” Rocket said as he cradled Groot in his arms and carried him over to the changing table so that he could place a cloth bag over Groot’s pot so that no dirt would fall out when he laid Groot down for bedtime.

“Well, I... um...” Peter struggled to find the words as Rocket walked over to Groot’s crib, undid the latch and swung the side of the crib open. “I thought that Groot could use some soup. Kraglin made some soup just for him.”

“Groot hates soup.” Rocket deadpanned to Peter as he tucked Groot in for the night with the baby’s favorite blanket. “Plus, he’s been throwing up all night and unless you want to wear Groot Puke on your pajamas tonight, I would advise not giving him anything to eat.”

“Okay...” Peter was still wondering what influenced Rocket’s sudden change in music taste. “You have a lovely singing voice though.”

Rocket grabbed one of his blasters that was laying on Groot’s nightstand and aimed it towards the humie.

“Yo, yo, Rocket, chill out!” Peter begs for his life as Rocket regains his composure and puts the blaster in his holster. “What’s wrong, dude? Tell me.”

Groot stirs in his crib. Rocket’s ears pick up the subtle coos coming from Groot as he whispers to Peter. “Fine. But let’s talk outside. Groot needs to get some sleep.” Rocket conceded as he and Peter walked out of the nursery and closed the door behind him.

“What’s gotten into you?” Peter questioned.

“It’s nothing.” Rocket replied.

“C’mon, Rocket, it has to be something. Tell me.” Peter encourages as he placed a caring hand on Rocket’s shoulder. “Just you and me.”

Rocket took a deep breath in “Fine. I-.”

“Hey, Cap’n?” Kraglin barged in to the conversation at hand. “Do we have anymore soup?”

“No, Kraglin.” Peter answered as Kraglin looked depressed at the response. “Now, I’m talking to Rocket about something private. Oh, guys!” He exasperated as all the other Guardians, except Groot, came crowding into the narrow hallway. “GUYS!” The humie shouted over everyone else as they became silent. “There’s a baby sleeping on the other side of this door and if anyone wakes him up, Rocket is gonna have your head.”

As soon as Peter said that, Groot’s crying could be heard from the other side of the door. Rocket excused himself to soothe the tiny Flora Colossus.

Moments later, Rocket re-emerged from the nursery, carrying Groot in his arms. “Groot’s still not feeling good.” He said as he gently rocked Groot back and forth in his arms. “Go ahead, Quill. Whatever you wanna ask me, you can ask in front of Groot too.” Rocket then looked at the other Guardians. “And everyone else here too.”

“Alright, Rocket.” Peter was careful in choosing the next words he would say to the raccoon. “I, um, all I want to know is what happened to your sudden change in music choice. I mean, we’re not used to hearing this sorta song whenever you have control of the Zune. So, what’s up with that?”

“Alright, Quill.” Rocket took a deep breath and sighed. “The other night, Groot couldn’t get to sleep, so we watched a little bit of TV until he nodded off. Well...”

“Well, what?” Peter was genuinely curious.

“I took five minutes to sleep myself. What? Bob Ross puts me to sleep sometimes.” Rocket replied as Groot gasped in horror. “Sorry, Groot, but you know that I don’t like him as much as you do.”

“Get back to the story, Rocket...” Gamora rolled her eyes as she too didn’t like Rocket’s lengthy explanations for everything.

“Okay!” Rocket exclaims. “Anyways, when I woke back up, Bob Ross was off the air and a movie was coming on.”

“What movie?” Mantis asked.

Rocket took a deep breath. Surely the other Guardians would be in shock at his answer. “A Star is Born.”

Peter was indeed perplexed, as well as the other Guardians. “A Star is Born? Isn’t that movie like 80-some years old?”

“No, Star-Munch.” Rocket answered. “Not the one that’s as old as your grandma’s panties.” He snidely remarked as the humie fumed. “I’m talking about the one that they remade last year with Bradley Cooper starring and directing.”

“Who’s Bradley Cooper, Rocket?” Gamora questions Rocket as he holds a picture frame in his right paw.

“Um... No one...” Rocket shyly replies as he tries, but fails to hide said picture frame behind his back while holding Groot in his other paw as Gamora snatches the item from him.

“Is this him?” Gamora questions Rocket as he nods reluctantly.

“You sleep with his picture every night?” Peter was shocked by this revelation as his eyes widened. Rocket handed Groot and the picture frame over to Drax.

Rocket’s tail puffed up as he stood upright in Peter’s face. “NO!” He exclaims as he pointed a finger at the Terran. “I put that picture over by Groot’s nightstand at night so that he has someone else to look up to than that stupid Bob Ross guy!”

“I am Groo!” A tiny voice chirped.

“Shut up! Vin Diesel is just as bad as-.” It takes Rocket a minute to notice who that tiny voice was coming from. He then runs over to Gamora and picks Groot up from his pot. “Groot! You said your first word!” Rocket congratulates the twig as he hugs him.

“Well, you clearly haven’t watched anything that Chris Pratt has been in.” Peter stated. “Best Terran actor ever.”

“Yeah, if ya take into account that his name sounds like you’re saying ‘Crisp Rat’, Star-Munch!” Rocket couldn’t help but fall over in laughter at his statement as the other Guardians, except Peter, joined in on the laughter, Drax having the most boisterous cackle.

“Shut up! Just shut up you jerks!” Peter was not pleased at the other Guardians’ reactions towards his favorite actor. “Drax, how about you? What actor do you like the most?”

“I don’t watch many movies in my free time, Quill.” Drax replied calmly. “But when I do watch Terran TV, I love to watch wrestling. Dave Bautista is a particular favorite of mine and the way he turns invisible after he says ‘You can’t see me’ inspires me to do the same.”

“Drax, I think that’s John Cena...” Peter explains quietly as the Destroyer glared at him. “But, you do you, man.” Drax then backs off as Peter looks at Gamora. “Gammy? How about you?”

“Thanos never allowed me to watch TV when I was under his parentage.” Gamora admitted. “But once, when I was a teenager, I snuck out to the movie theater and watched this film called ‘Avatar’. It was so beautiful and thought-provoking.”

“Ego never allowed me that luxury either.” Mantis revealed. “So, I just made up stories in my imagination.”

“Alright.” Peter then turns to Kraglin. “Kraglin! My man! I’m sure that you and Yondu have watched many movies over the years. Tell us which actor is your favorite.”

“Well, I don’t have a favorite actor, per say, but I do have favorite and least favorite directors, Quill.” Kraglin answered as he took a sip of his soup.

“Okay, how about you tell us then.” Peter invited the Xandarian as he sat down to listen to Kraglin.

“Well, for one thing, I used to love all these movies that these Russo Brothers made.” Kraglin began. “But then their egos got too big and they thought that it would be ‘cute’ and ‘funny’ if they killed off all the fan favorite characters in one movie and in the next one they bring back all the fan favorites characters that they just killed off only to stab ya in the heart by killing some of the oldest and most beloved characters in the most tear-jerking way while letting the other characters ride off in the sunset.”

Everyone stared at Kraglin in disbelief. They couldn’t understand what he was talking about or where he got this disdain for these so-called “Russo Brothers”.

“Um, are there any directors that you do like, Kraglin?” Peter asked inquisitively.

“Yeah, this James Gunn guy is really talented.” Kraglin replied. “He’s so talented that so far he has made TWO MOVIES that perfectly retells some of our most important adventures and how we formed our family.” The Xandarian added as he handed Quill two DVD cases containing the movies in question. “If y’all want, we can watch ‘em right now.”

“No.” Rocket answered as he cradled Groot in his pot. “It’s way past Groot’s bedtime and if you guys want an angry, stubborn Groot in the morning, then be my guest and let him stay up all night long.” He then turned around as he retreated to his and Groot’s room for the night with the baby.

“Yeah, I think that we should all go to bed too.” Peter declared. “We’ll talk more about this later.” He added as the Guardians went to their separate rooms and he and Gamora retreated to the master suite.——————————————————————————————————

Read on Ao3.——————————————————————————————————

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