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angelicyoongie · 4 years ago

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Out of the Woods (II)

— pairing: wolf hybrid namjoon x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, slight smut — word count: 5.5K — warnings: injury, blood, mentions of past abuse — summary: Promising Jihyo that you were going to stay away from your writing for one weekend had been easy in theory, but much harder to actually do once you reached the little cabin the woods. To make matters worse, the only thing that rivals your inability to keep promises is your terrible luck – and after a particularly bad choice leads you to get lost in the mountains, you suppose that it's only karma that you end up face to face with a wolf that looks ready to rip your throat out.

Part I / II / III

You stare at the hand wrapped tightly around yours as the wolf hybrid leads you down the rest of the slope. You can still feel the imprint of his chest against your back, the lingering heat from his body still wrapped around yours. The ghost of his raspy, smooth voice brushing over your ear, his words branded into your chest.

Please don’t leave me.

You wince with each step, the dull pain in your ankle growing harder to ignore. You can see the muscles in his golden arms tense as your step falters, the wolf hybrid’s grip tightening before you can stumble down the last stretch of the incline. He’s keeping your hand almost at height with his shoulders, making it easier for you to borrow some support as you hobble forward.

You keep yourself focused on his hand, on how his long and slender fingers are enveloping yours. They’re a little rough against your skin, but they’re still pretty. Your cheeks are flushed red as you limp forward, but you blame that on the near death experience you just had – and certainly not on the hybrid’s thumb absentmindedly running over your knuckles every few steps. And it’s definitely not because the man in front of you is completely naked. The close proximity means that the expanse of the hybrid’s broad back fills most of your vision, but you’re not willing to take any chances. His body isn’t there for you to ogle at. So, his hand is a good, safe, place for you eyes to latch on to. The hybrid clearly doesn’t have any qualms about his lack of clothes, and it makes you wonder just how long he’s been out here on his own – how long he’s been alone.

You swallow thickly as the ground underneath your feet begins to flatten out, the strain on your ankle becoming a little less painful. You can probably walk on your own now, but it doesn’t seem like the wolf hybrid has any plans of letting you do that, his fingers wrapping even more firmly around yours as you try to let go of his hand. You see a few faint marks on the inside of his wrist, but the angle his hold your hand makes it too difficult to make anything out. If anything, it’s likely just some scratches from the wilderness. You can’t help but notice that one of his gray ears seem to be permanently turned in your direction, only twitching when you let out little huffs of air.

He hasn’t spoken since he uttered those four words – not since he begged you to stay, and the only thing you could think to do was shakily step out of his embrace and ask him to bring you back down. You can’t stay. You're not quite sure why the realization makes you feel so torn. Sure, the hybrid has taken care of you, but you don’t really know him. Hell, you don’t even know his name. But still, your heart stutters painfully as you remember the desperation in his voice, the subdued whine that escaped his lips as you pulled away. The hybrid had only given you a curt nod in response to your request, his back turned to you and hand outstretched before you could even get a good look on his face.

You sneak a quick peek at his profile as he helps you along the path, your breath getting caught in your throat as you catch a glimpse of his strong jaw and oh no, is that a dimple? The wolf hybrid’s silver ears and messy hair compliments his sunkissed skin beautifully, and there is no doubt in your mind that this man must be stunning. Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gotten a good look at his face yet, getting weak in the knees sounds like bad plan when you’re already one foot down. You quickly push the thoughts away, turning your attention back to the forest in front of you. You swear something about it looks a little more familiar than before. You only need to hobble through the forest for another few minutes before you realize why.

The wolf hybrid has lead you straight to the lake you and Jihyo passed two days ago, the exact one you were trying to find when you managed to get lost. The weather might be slightly gloomier today, but it still looks absolutely breathtaking as you draw closer. The tension in your shoulders ease up as you realize just how close you are to the cabin, it probably won’t take much longer than an hour to get back even with your throbbing foot. Which is great, but the release of tension also makes you acutely aware of just how irritated your ankle truly is, and it feels like it might break clean off if you don’t get a break soon.

“Can we, uh, rest for a little while? My foot ..” You trail off uncertainly, watching as the hybrid’s head cocks in your direction. He stops in his tracks, ears swivelling around rapidly as he listens to the forest, his grip still tight around yours. He gives you another nod after a few seconds of silence, steering you carefully over to a fallen log. You close your eyes in relief as you sit down, a groan falling from your lips as you finally get the chance to alleviate the pressure on your ankle.

“Thank you,” You murmur, glancing down at your foot as you try to best position to rest it in. You freeze as you see the wolf hybrid’s bare feet out of the corner of your eye, heat creeping up your neck as you realize the position you’ve put yourself in. You’re at eye-level with his dick. There’s no way to look up at him without seeing it, and that’s not something you want to deal with right now.

“Here," You hastily shrug off your windbreaker, offering it out for the hybrid with a grimace, “you can use it to cover up.” Rough fingers brush over your own as the wolf hybrid grabs your jacket, presumably–hopefully–wrapping it around his waist as you keep your eyes firmly on the ground. You don’t dare lift your gaze until the hybrid sinks down on the log next to you with a huff, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you find his eyes already locked onto your face.

The wolf hybrid is beautiful. Your lips part open in surprise as you take in his face, the slight pout to his lips and the gentleness in his expression leaving you a little breathless. He looks kind. Sweet. You don’t understand how someone like him could be left out here all alone.

“I-I'm sorry,” The wolf hybrid cowers under your stunned gaze, his ears falling flat against his head. “Should I stay .. wolf? You upset,” His voice is hoarse and pained as he stutters out his words, his lips forming awkwardly around the syllables. The intention behind his words hits you like a slap to the face. He thinks you don’t like his human form, and he’s willing to turn back to not make you upset.

“No!” You blurt, “I mean, I’m uh, not upset. If you want to, please stay in your human form. It’s nice to be able to talk to you.” The wolf hybrid doesn’t quite seem to believe you, his ears pressing even flatter against his head as he shakes his head.

“What’s your name?”

The hybrid's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and for a second you think he might not answer, but then he mutters out a soft, “Namjoon.”

“Namjoon?” You echo, finding you like the way his name rolls off your tongue. The wolf hybrid’s ears perk up at the sound of his name, the bushy tail behind his back doing a startled wag as Namjoon’s eyes find yours. You give him a soft smile, rubbing your hands nervously at your thighs as you finally ask the question that has been burning away at your curiosity for the past few hours.

“Why are you out here all alone?” The muscles in Namjoon's shoulders tense at your question, the warmth in his golden brown eyes hardening into something you can’t quite decipher. The wolf hybrid looks ready to bolt any second, his eyes flickering around the forest as he says, “Ran way .. bad place. No going back.”

You detest that you’re not even surprised, that the mistreatment of hybrids is so common that it has become almost more normal than treating them like actual human beings. The wolf hybrid looks to be your age, maybe even a little older, and it makes your stomach drop to think about just how many years he must’ve spent out here in his animal form for speech to become this hard – for it to become a struggle.

“I’m so sorry Namjoon, it must’ve been hard being all alone up here,” Your fingers twitch against your thigh, resisting the urge to reach out for him.

“Not alone now, have you,” Namjoon’s raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine, the certainty laced with his next word making your heart skip a beat. “Pack.” The wolf hybrid carefully reaches out for your hand, slowly wrapping his fingers around yours as he watches your mind trying to process his words.

You know it normally takes a long time for a hybrid to consider someone, especially humans, to be a part of their pack, so the fact that Namjoon refers to you as his after only a few days leaves you stunned – and a little bit out of your depth. Then again, Namjoon’s situation isn’t exactly normal. Usually hybrids are much more in-tune with both their human and animal side, but from what you can gather, it doesn’t seem like Namjoon has tapped into his humanity in years. It would make sense for his animal instincts to be more dominant, for doubt and hesitation to take a backseat. But still, his pack?

You catch the slight motion as the wolf hybrid’s eyes stray to your neck, the memory hitting you at full force now that you realize the implications behind your actions. In the midst of your panic when you thought Namjoon was going to tear you limb from limb, you had bared you neck. You had submitted. And Namjoon had accepted you. You wince, sucking in a deep breath as unease swirls in your stomach. Even if you weren’t aware of what you were doing at the time, this is still your fault. You really want to fix this whole mess, but you fear that the one thing you can’t do for him, is the only thing the hybrid wants.

“Namjoon,” You hesitate as you feel his tail wag happily against the log, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you say, “I can’t stay.” A lull falls over the forest as the rhythmic thumping stops, the grip around your hand slackening as the wolf hybrid hangs his head.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he whispers out a broken, “Don’t go.” You feel your heart ache as you watch him open and close his mouth, the furrow between his brows deepening as he can’t seem to find the words he needs. “Take care of you. Please.” You think it might hurt less if you just let the wolf hybrid rip you to shreds instead, the pained desperation in his voice making you eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” You mutter, “I need to go home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Home. At the start of your trip you couldn’t wait to return to your apartment, but when you really think about it, have you ever truly considered it home? Sure, you've managed to make it nice and cozy over the last years, but there’s no warmth there, no sense of belonging. Still – you can’t stay here in the mountains.

Namjoon’s ears are pressed flat against his head, his expression turning blank as he withdraws his hand. “Okay,” The wolf hybrid’s jaw is tense as he stares out at the lake, his gaze empty and distant. You ignore the throbbing in your foot as you clamber back up to your feet, taking a few steps forward as you take in the sight of the lake for the last time. The scattered wildflowers don’t seem as charming anymore, and the large body of water suddenly feels more imposing than welcoming. You freeze as Namjoon lets out a low groan, the sound suddenly transforming into a whimper behind your back. You nearly jolt out of your skin as something wet touches your hand, a warm breath spilling across your fingers as you look down. You meet Namjoon’s golden eyes, the wolf letting out a small huff before he nudges your windbreaker closer to your feet. You don’t know why it feels like a defeat that he transformed back, but you can’t shake the hollow feeling in your chest as you thread your fingers into his fur, jacket wrapped around your waist as he leads you back to the cabin.

The wolf’s ears starts to flicker a few minutes before you can pick up Jihyo’s frantic speech in the distance, the dark roof of the cabin coming into view. You’re a little off the trail, the forest much denser around this side of the clearing. Namjoon suddenly halts as he reaches the edge, and you wince from the extra force on your foot as you stumble to catch yourself. The wolf’s tail is tucked between his legs, a pitiful whimper filling the silence as you gently untangle your hand from his fur. You brush it down carefully, already missing the coarse yet soft hairs tickling against your skin as you take a step back.

“Thank you Namjoon,” You swallow around the lump in your throat, forcing your lips into a soft smile as you gaze down at him. The wolf turns his head back to the forest, golden eyes scanning the area before he quickly pushes his head against your hand, guiding your palm over the fur between his ears. Your knees go weak with fondness as you pat his head, the wolf swiping his tongue over the exposed skin of your wrist as you scratch behind his ears. It’s Namjoon that reluctantly pulls away first, his golden eyes soft yet sad as he pushes his snout one last time against your palm. He sits down with a huff, turning his head in the direction of the cabin. The message is clear; he’s not leaving until you are. The goodbye grows and dies in your mouth, your lips refusing to let it slip past as you look down at him. You spare him one last glance, trying to commit as much of him to memory as you can, before you stumble out of the tree line.

It only takes a few steps before you hear Jihyo’s shrill, “Y/n!” and you watch as your friend sprints across the field to meet you. Jihyo knocks into you so hard you nearly topple over, her arms wrapped around your body so tightly you almost fear she’ll squeeze you to death.

“Where were you? What happened? Oh my god, you’re hurt!–” You let Jihyo’s concerned rambling distract you from the empty feeling in your stomach, each step feeling heavier than the last as she helps you walk back to the cabin. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, hoping to maybe see a flash of silver through the trees, but there’s nothing.

Namjoon is gone.

And you’re both alone again.

It was all a rush after you returned. Jihyo had been searching for you night and day, a few of her father’s best employees helping out. The road up to the cabin had been cleared, so instead of having to trek down on your sprained ankle, Jihyo had whisked you away in a car with the destination set for the closest hospital. It took a while before you could collect your thoughts enough to tell her what happened, the words sounding ridiculous even to your own ears as you retold the story.

Jihyo had a deep frown on her face from the hospital to your apartment, uncharacteristically silent as she helped you to your couch. Sinking down on the mountain of plush pillows felt like heaven after sleeping on the ground for two nights, your limbs tired and aching. You really need a shower, but the temptation to rest your foot for an hour is frankly too strong. You watch as Jihyo raids your fridge for drinks and food, the frown not leaving her lips until you’ve stuffed your face with a sandwich.

“Why didn’t you just ask him to come with you?” You nearly choke on a piece of bread at her sudden question, quickly taking a sip of water to chase it down.

“What do you mean?” You croak.

“Well, it’s not like he specifically asked you to stay up in the mountains right? He only asked that you would stay with him. I’m not sure how much I like this, but he did take care of you, and he brought you back safely. If he wanted to hurt you he had many opportunities to do so,” Jihyo purses her lips, her eyes flickering around the room.

"You seem .. smitten. I can remember the last time you looked so fond talking about someone else. It seems like he already considers you to be his pack, so if you want to, I don’t see any harm in asking him to come home with you,” You feel a steady blush rise in your cheeks as Jihyo talks, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of having Namjoon here in your apartment. You couldn’t ..

"It’s not natural or healthy for hybrids to be alone and shifted for such a long time, so you would honestly be doing him a favour. Even if he doesn’t stay with you, he needs to get checked-up.” You find yourself nodding along to Jihyo’s words before you can stop yourself, her eyebrows rising in amusement. She is right, after all. Even if Namjoon doesn’t want to stay, it’s important to make sure he’s healthy. Even you go in for yearly check-ups, and you’re sure it’s been far too long since Namjoon did the same. You have to go back and find him.

“But–” Jihyo presses a finger to your chest, “you’re not going anywhere yet. The doctor said full rest for a week, so that’s what you’re going to do.” She shakes her head before you can protest, giving you a stern look as she says, “You’re in no condition to go after him now, you need to heal up if you want to find him again. I’ve seen enough animal planet to know that wolves have pretty big territories, and you won’t be able to cover that much ground with a sprained ankle.” You sink back down in the couch with a disgruntled sound, hating the fact that she’s completely right. You’ll have to wait until you’ve healed. You just hope it won’t be too late.

“Namjoon?” You wince at the rawness in your throat, your voice ringing through the silent forest. You’ve been out here for hours, but no matter where you go, there’s no sign of the wolf hybrid. You even managed to get back to the little cave Namjoon had brought you to, but that too was completely untouched. The only trail you had is dead. The area you’ve ventured into is much denser and harder to navigate, but you refuse to leave until you find him.

You grumble under your breath as a branch almost whacks you straight in the face, and you push it away with a little more force than necessary as you trek on deeper into the woods. Your ankle has healed up nicely, but there’s still a dull ache from the amount of walking you’re putting yourself through. The sprain wasn’t all that bad; it was mostly just the fact that you kept aggravating it that made it so painful. A week of rest did you wonders, and a little bit of discomfort is a price you’re more than willing to pay if it means you’ll find Namjoon again.

“Namjoon?” You call out again, halting in your tracks as you strain to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh at the silence that greets you, shaking your head lightly as you take a step forward. You freeze as your foot connect with the ground, a distant howl echoing through the forest. Namjoon.

You can barely even hear the second howl over the frantic beat of your own heart as you take off, stumbling and tripping over roots and twigs as you run in what you hope is the right direction. The mountain is disorienting at best, but you have no fear of getting lost this time. Jihyo made sure you would be properly prepared.

It’s not until the fourth howl that you realize two things – one, the sound is much closer than you anticipated, and two, it sounds pained. You urge your legs to move faster, your gaze shifting wildly over your surroundings as you call out for him again. You swear you see a flash of silver behind a cluster of trees, and you quickly switch your direction, running straight for what you hope is the wolf hybrid.

“Namjo–” You choke as you skid to a stop, your stomach dropping so fast it leaves you feeling dizzy.

Blood. There’s so much blood. Namjoon’s gray fur is stained with it, the hairs matted and red. You can see the rusted metal of an old bear trap clamped tightly around one of his hind legs, the bone snapped in an awkward angle. Oh god. A pained whine rips you out of your building panic, and the sight of the wolf hybrid attempting to drag himself closer to you despite the trap on his leg finally jolts you back into action.

“No no no, stay still!” You cry as you scramble forward, your stomach doing a dangerous flip as the metallic scent of Namjoon’s blood washes over you. The wolf hybrid is panting as you drop to your knees in front of him, his ears plastered against his skull as he lets out low whimper.

“It-it’s going to be okay,” You hear your voice tremble as you reach out for his head, gently cupping his cheeks between your hands. Namjoon lets the tension in his neck drop the moment you get your hands on him, his head heavy in your hold as you run your fingers over his fur. The wolf hybrid’s body is shaking, his golden eyes barely open as he lets out another whine. You have no idea how many hours he’s been like this, but it’s been too long. He's lost way too much blood.

“You’re going to be fine Namjoon,” You swallow down the bile in your throat as you shuffle around, shifting your hold to gently place his head in your lap. He immediately tries to shuffle closer, not giving up until he’s plastered against your stomach.

“Just, don’t shift, okay? Please don’t shift,” You hastily dig your burrowed phone out of your pocket, vision blurry as you type in Jihyo’s number. Seeing Namjoon’s human form might make it easier to gauge his injuries, but if he shifts while he’s still trapped, you have no doubt it’s just going to tear his leg up even more.

He lets out a whine as you hands leave his fur, his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the pain. The leg that’s trapped doesn’t even twitch, and Namjoon’s body feels horribly cold as you hurry to run your hands over his fur.

“Y/n? Did you find him?” Jihyo’s voice has never sounded more angelic than when she picks up the phone, you body sagging with relief.

“You can track my location, right? It’s Namjoon–” You force down the sob bubbling in your throat as the wolf hybrid whimpers at the sound of his name, the sound soft and weak. “–he’s hurt.”

“Excuse me,” You whip your head up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, a rather frazzled nurse standing in front you. “Are you here with the wolf hybrid? Kim Namjoon?”

“I am. Is something wrong?” You push out of the plastic chair with a wince, ignoring the queasy feeling in your stomach. It’s been hours since you arrived at the hospital, but the image of Namjoon’s blood pooling around his body doesn’t seem to want to let go of you just yet.

“He’s–" The nurse let out a deep sigh, “I think you need to come with me.” She turns on her heel, motioning for you to follow without another word. Oh god, what if he’s dead? The wolf hybrid had been rushed into an emergency operation immediately upon arrival, so there wasn’t much else that you could do than wait. Hope that he would be okay.

You hurry after the nurse, nearly tripping over your own feet at quick speed she keeps as she marches down the hall. You’ve barely managed to catch up when she halts outside a door, an exasperated expression on her face as she says, “We’re keeping him under observation for now and he’s not really supposed to have any visitors yet, but he’s being … difficult.” You jump as something clatters to the ground inside the room, the deep growl hardly even muffled by the closed door.

“He’s a still a little out of it, but not dangerous. You’ll see what I mean,” With that, the nurse pushes the door open, stepping aside to allow you entry into Namjoon’s room. You suck in a breath as you step inside, the floor littered with scattered papers and trays. Namjoon is perched up in bed, a heavy cast around his leg. Whatever they were trying to do, the wolf hybrid obviously wasn’t having it. He’s twisted towards the doctor by his side, the man keeping a good distance from the injured hybrid as he let out another harsh growl. You stare in shock as Namjoon bares his teeth, his posture rigid and tense as he eyes the doctor distrustfully. The doctor notices you before Namjoon does, a soft 'thank god' muttered under his breath as he waves for you to come closer.

“Hey Namjoon,” The wolf hybrids nose wrinkles just as your soft voice carries across the room, his ears springing up on his head as he shifts his attention to you.

“Y/n,” Namjoon’s eyes light up as he catches sight of you, his hands practically tearing up the bed sheets as he tries to untangle himself. The action feels awfully familiar to when he tried to drag himself closer despite the bear trap, and you have no intention of watching him trying to walk on his broken leg.

“I thought I told you to stop moving,” You rush forward before he can get himself fully out of bed, pushing him back with a firm shove to his chest. Namjoon falls back without protest, his wide eyes scanning over your face as a loopy smile blooms on his lips.

“Sorry,” He rasps as he engulfs your hand with his, keeping it tucked securely against his body. You can feel the steady thrum of his heart against your palm, beating in rhythm with the soft beeps from the monitor he’s hooked up to.

“We were trying to explain to Mr. Kim that we need to do some tests, but he doesn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment,” The doctor glances back towards the door as a the nurse brings in a new tray of equipment, a weary frown on his face as he picks up a shot. The growl builds in Namjoon’s throat so fast you nearly jump out of your skin, the hold he has around your hand feels like he’s two seconds away from snapping it in half.

“It’s okay, it’s just some standard shots,” You hesitantly bring your hand up to his face, slowly turning his head back in your direction.

“You haven’t had check-ups in a while right?” The wolf hybrid shakes his head, his ears twitching as his attention flickers back and fourth between you and the doctor. “It’s just to make sure you stay healthy.” Namjoon nuzzles against your hand with a soft whimper as you run your thumb along his cheek.

“Makes me feel .. bad. Sleepy,” Namjoon’s speech seems to flow a little easier than it did a week ago, but the struggle to find the right words is still there, his brows furrowing in concentration as he whispers, "Don’t like it.”

You swallow thickly, your stomach in knots as you ask, “Did your owner give you those? The shots that made you sleepy?” The wolf hybrid makes a low sound of agreement, his ears turning back. The marks on his wrist you couldn’t figure out, they’re needle marks. You’ve heard of it before, how some owners would drug their more exotic hybrids to keep them calm and docile – to silence the part of their genetics that make them so unique. You glance down at Namjoon, the wolf hybrid staring up at you with so much vulnerability and trust that the thought of someone taking advantage of that it makes you feel ill.

“These won’t make you feel that way, I promise.” You muster up the warmest smile you can manage as you peek over at the doctor, a silent plea in your eyes.

“Oh! Don’t worry Mr. Kim, there are no side effects to these shots. You’ll hardly even notice it,” The doctor quickly adds as he takes a careful step forward. Namjoon lets out a slow breath, golden eyes finding yours and his tail draping across his lap as he grumbles out a hesitant “Okay.”

“–All done!” You can see the doctor’s shoulders visibly drop as he finally gets the chance to move back, obviously relieved to put some distance between himself and Namjoon. “I’ll be back later to check on your leg and make sure everything is okay.” The sour expression on Namjoon’s face softens as the doctor hurries out the door, the grip around your hand loosening slightly as it clicks shut behind him.

“May I speak with you outside alone for a minute, miss?” You look up at the nurse as she finishes placing a band-aid on Namjoon’s arm, the empty shots rolling around in the tray as she picks it up.

“Oh, sure,” Namjoon lets out a whine as you try to step away, lips formed into a soft pout as you gently extract your hand from his grip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” You give his shoulder a squeeze before you follow the nurse out, shooting Namjoon what you hope is a comforting smile over your shoulder. The wolf hybrid keeps his eyes trained on you as you leave, his distressed gaze still burning into your back as you close the door behind you. You only take a few steps down the hall before the nurse turns to face you, her expression troubled as she looks you up and down, “I take it he’s not your hybrid?”

“No, he’s not,” You quickly shake your head. “I came across him up in the mountains. He said he ran away from his old owner, and that it was a ‘bad place’. I’m pretty sure it must’ve been a couple of years at least,” You wince. The nurse nods, her gaze shifting around the busy hallway as she thinks.

“I’ll have someone look into it. We need to settle his hospital bills, and only his legal owner can do that.” She must see the way your face drops, because she quickly adds, “I could tell from his old scars that he’s likely been abused. Even if we find his owner, they’re not going to be allowed to take him home. It’ll be looked into.”

“Right, thanks.” You muster up a weak smile. You know how these things go. Even if there’s an investigation, the police are too easy to buy off. There are frankly too many cases like Namjoon’s, and too few cops that actually treat their abuse seriously.

“Can I stay with him until his owner shows up?”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but yes, you can. I don’t think he’ll actually stay inside his room if you don’t.” The nurse lets out a huff, a flash of amusement in her eyes as she waves for you to go back inside. “I’ll let you know once we figure it out, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you.”

Turning to face Namjoon’s door, you try to shake off the anxious feeling festering in your stomach. You’re not going to let him go back to his old owner. You’re honestly not even sure how you’ve managed to grow attached so quickly, but there’s just something about the wolf hybrid that makes you ready to fight tooth and nail for his safety and happiness – even if it means he won’t find it with you.

a/n: ahah heyy ... let's just ignore that it took me two months to update this, okay? thank you aksjsk. i decided to split the last part into two, to give myself more time to write a little bit of extra fluff (and smut)! so the third and final part is hopefully coming next week, but if not, it will at least be posted by the end of november. namjoon's speech will get better in the next part and we will learn more about him + his and y/n's relationship will grow! if you like the story then please drop me a reblog/comment, that would mean the world to me! (ps. this story has no tag list!)

as always, see you all soon and stay safe! <3 and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#hybrid bts #hybrid au #namjoon x reader #hybrid namjoon #wolf hybrid namjoon #hybrid!bts #bts au #bts fluff #bts angst #hybridbtsnetwork #bts x reader #out of the woods

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dancingamongstdust · 4 years ago

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MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit. “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #toga x reader #twice x reader #kurogiri x reader #overhaul x reader

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bokutosworld · 4 years ago

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sick day | tsukishima kei

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader word count, genre: 1.7k words, college au, fluff, childhood friends to maybe lovers. warning: none! summary: you and tsukishima have been friends for as long as the both of you can remember. and when you’re down with the flu, he’s left with no choice but to take care of you.

“Can you drop by their home and give them this paper?”

Tsukishima stares blankly at the piece of paper and back at the girl who approached him. He hasn’t even gotten up from his chair when Yachi stopped him.

He already knows who she was referring to and was quick to turn her down. “Move. I’m packing my bag.”

The girl grumbles, moving out of the way but continues, “Come on! You know where they live.”

“Correction, you know it too.” Tsukishima retorts. He walks past her, striding with his long legs over to the door and exiting. But Yachi was hot on his trail. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”

Yachi groans, “I would but I’m too busy with the school paper right now. I have to head to the office to assist in lay-outing this month’s release.” She stops in her tracks, catching Tsukishima’s wrist and turning him around. “You live in the same neighborhood. Please, I promise I’ll repay you.”

She waves the paper in front of him, and eventually, he’s left with no choice but to do the task. He sighs before snatching the form and turning on his heel, “You owe me.”

—

As he walks the familiar route towards home, he wonders about the last time he saw you in campus. It had actually been three days since then. Worried, his mind runs about hundreds of possibilities about why you hadn’t showed up in classes.

The only possible thing that he could think of was that you were down with a flu. This predicament that he was in right now oddly reminds him of a time in middle school when you were absent for a week because of a severe cold. Growing up, he’s noticed that you were extremely prone to getting sick and Tsukishima always berates you for not taking care of yourself properly. Especially during flu season.

When he passes by a convenience store, he decides to buy some instant porridge, water, and medicine. He wonders if your family were at home but gets the answer that he was looking for when he’s arrived in front of your house with the lights off.

He eyes the building and notices the faint light coming from the side which he knows was your room.

Tsukishima enters the door, unlocking it with ease as he inputs the passcode he’s known since the both of you were kids. He feels for the switch on the wall and turns the lights open.

He makes his way to the kitchen and places everything on the counter. He’s in the process of boiling some water when he hears footsteps walking closer.

“Who’s there?” Your voice sounds weak and when Tsukishima turns, he sees you, cozily bundled in a hoodie and holding on to a blanket as you lean on the wall for support.

He’s quick on his feet to help and sit you down on a chair. “You shouldn’t have left your bed,” he mutters under his breath.

You recognize the voice, “Kei? What are you doing here?”

He was back on the counter, opening the pack of porridge and filling it with water to cook for five minutes. He hands you a glass of water and you down it. “Yachi told me to tell you about our final project in Literature.” He takes the paper from his bag and sticks it on the refrigerator with a magnet. “Here’s the reference. Don’t lose it.”

You manage to let out a small chuckle. “Look at you, being kind for once.”

“Shut up.” But his words say otherwise when the look in his eyes are soft, watching over you to make sure you didn’t fall from the chair. “Where’s everybody?”

You put your head on the table and groan. “They’re out to visit the grandparents in the countryside. Said I couldn’t make it because of school requirements but here I am.”

“You’ve been alone this whole time?”

“Yeah,” you say with a yawn.

He tuts at you to show his disapproval, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?”

“Eh, no one would have bothered anyway.”

He hands you the hot dish and you take it with a whispered thanks. You devour it in silence, relishing in the warmth that fills your body. Tsukishima hangs back, saying nothing and only observes as you eat what looks like the first decent meal you’ve had since you’ve been sick.

“I would.”

His sudden answer almost makes you sputter the food out from your mouth. You look at him, and though it was dark, you could make out his features and the way he was staring at you with such intensity.

“I mean, I’m here now, aren’t I?” He takes a seat beside you, taking the cup from your hands and feeding you the last few scoops. “My parents would have made me come here either way to check on you.”

You curse the way your heart flutters at his words. The heat on your cheeks not anymore caused by your fever but by Tsukishima who was sitting way too close for your comfort and helping you finish the porridge. After he gives you the medicine, he extends his arm out and you look at him in question.

“Come on, I’m bringing you back to your room.” When you don’t make a move, he pulls you up to your feet and hooks one arm around your waist to keep you steady by his side. The two of you begin the slow trek to your room.

He’s careful to lay you down on the mattress, cradling your head as he fluffs and positions the pillow under you. You seem to be already lost in your dreams when he pulls the blanket over your body, tucking you in and making sure you were warm. When he’s done, he kneels down by the side of your bed and gazes at you.

He’s transfixed on memorizing the outlines of your face—the one thing he’d never admit he always liked to do whenever he went to your house for sleepovers years ago. Absentmindedly, he traces your features, sighing as he wanted so badly to tell you off about not properly taking care of yourself.

“Kei.”

Surprised, he pulls back his hand, “What?” He knows you’d tease him to no end when you saw what he was doing.

“You should be like this all the time,” you say sleepily with a smile. “Who knew you had a sweet and caring side in you?”

He smirks, “Don’t push your luck.” He puts the back of his hand on your forehead to determine whether your fever has gone down. It was still hotter than normal and Tsukishima only sighs, “You should really learn to look after yourself.”

Burying yourself deeper in the blankets, you hum, “But I like having you take care of me.”

He’s surprised, mostly at the way your voice sounded so calm and soft when you said those words. Because he knows that on any other day, you’d have responded with a smart quip and maybe a punch to his arm. He’s aware it could be the flu talking, making you bare your true feelings similarly to how a drunk man would reveal their sober thoughts. But will you remember them when you wake up tomorrow?

He laughs quietly before leaning to press a kiss to your temple, “I don’t mind it too.”

But you were already fast asleep to have heard anything.

—

The following day, you woke up as if you never had intense fever the night before. The bad headache and chills that you felt was gone and you could move your body without feeling heavy. So not wanting to miss out more on lectures, you got ready and finally went back to school.

To say that Yachi was overjoyed to see you was an understatement. Your friend sighed of relief and ran to tackle you with a hug the second she saw you step foot on campus. She caught you up to speed about everything that has happened and the tasks that your professors on your shared classes has assigned.

The two of you were settling in your seats when she remembers, “By the way, did you receive the paper about our Literature project? I had Tsukishima bring it to you.”

“Really? I didn’t receive anything.”

And just as she was about to complain about Tsukishima, the door opens loudly and the said boy enters the room.

“Oh, Kei! Great timing, we were just talking about you,” you greeted as your childhood friend headed straight to your desks.

Meanwhile, Yachi complained, “Tsukishima, I told you to pass over the reference to them.”

The boy just walked past her, and stopped in front of you. He stuck out a pack of banana milk (your favorite drink) and some fruits, making you confused at the sudden gesture.

“What’s this?”

“You skip your breakfasts, right?” You were shocked that he knew about your unhealthy habit. “I don’t want you getting sick again so make sure you eat properly.”

Yachi’s jaw dropped at his nice attitude. You’re wary as you take drink and snacks from his hand, looking at him as if he grew another head on his body. “You’re being suspicious, Kei. What do you need?”

He takes the seat beside you, laughing when he turns towards you with a wicked smile that has your heart beating faster.

“I’m just doing what I need to do as your friend.” He resumes to fix his things on the table. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said you liked me taking care of you?”

You stutter, cheeks feeling hot as vague snippets from when Kei visited you and took care of you came flashing in your mind. Yachi was now giggling and congratulating you for finally confessing. As you watched the grin on his face, you wished for a hole to appear on the ground and swallow you whole.

Because your crush on your longtime childhood friend was something you never wanted him to know.

But that thought was quickly erased when Tsukishima leaned close and whispered,

“For what it’s worth, I like you too.”

And since then, Tsukishima started keeping you close and took care of you in the little ways he knows how just so you never have to experience a sick day again.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagines #haikyuucreations #haikyuucafe #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #haikyuu fics #haikyuu x you #tsukishima kei x reader #hq tsukishima #haikyuu!!

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montrealmadison · 4 years ago

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drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually��oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here.

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries.

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know?

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means.

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special.

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

#shitty knight #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #zimbitswedding #omgcp #check please #this idea jumped into my head and refused to leave #shitty & jack & bitty friendship my beloved #my writing

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marvelyningreen · 4 years ago

Text

Andante

[Peter Maximoff x reader (X-Men: Apocalypse)

Summary: When an injury brings Peter’s superhuman speed to a screeching halt, you figure he could use some company and cheering up.

Warnings: mild language

Notes: could be interpreted as romantic or platonic, if that’s more your speed]

You hurry in from the rain, pausing just long enough to shake off your umbrella on the doorstep before closing the door behind you. You take a moment to wipe your shoes on the mat in an attempt to keep them from squeaking in the tiled halls of the mansion.

The floorplan of this rebuilt version is practically identical to the original. The design and decor are much the same, too. Still… You feel a bit like a stranger, or maybe the mansion itself does.

With everything else that’d happened, you hadn’t really had a chance to process your own experience that day. One second, you were trimming the hedges by the mansion’s front steps. The next, you were a hundred yards away, surrounded by the students and staff, and the mansion was exploding, and suddenly there in your midst was your childhood best friend – Peter Maximoff, all grown up.

It’s funny how someone you knew for such a short time could’ve made such an impact on you. Really, you and Peter only knew each other for two years. It baffled the teachers how a quiet goody-two-shoes like you could be thick as thieves with resident mischief-maker Peter Maximoff, but you were practically inseparable. Perhaps it was partly due to some truth in the old saying about opposites attracting. But there was more to it than that. You and Peter shared a secret.

Your sporadic telekinesis had nothing on Peter’s incredible speed, but he never seemed to mind. You were both just so happy to finally have someone who understood, who you didn’t have to hide from. Those two years were some of the best of your life.

And years passed, and you grew up. You kept your abilities hidden, but you kept the memory of Peter with you. You’d think of him often, hoping that he was doing well, wherever he was. You never expected to see him again.

Lost in thought, Hank hurries around a corner and nearly bowls you over. You both apologize to each other, laughing, and continue on your respective ways.

It feels strange being back here after… Well, after everything. Everyone is doing their best to settle back into a routine, but it isn’t quite working yet. Maybe it won’t ever feel the same.

The students either converse too loudly or are oddly subdued, with very little in between. Scott Summers’ group of close friends is never far from his side, and the faculty likewise seem to hover around the professor. It’s difficult not to dwell on how bad things had gotten, and how much worse everything could’ve been.

And if it’s difficult for you, you can only imagine how it must be for the person you’re here to see. You pause to knock politely at his door, and the voice that answers sounds oddly terse.

“You can come in.”

You slip into the room to find Peter scowling morosely out the window. He’s still laid up in bed, his broken leg in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He’s got a wicked case of bedhead, and there are dark rings under his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so tired.

There’s an odd sound you can’t quite place – like the low hum of a fan or the purring of a cat – and you realize that it’s just Peter drumming his fingers restlessly on his nightstand at impossible speeds. He turns his head, and when he sees that it’s you walking through the door, his expression shifts into one of relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he says, “I thought it was somebody coming to make sure I’m still “resting.” C’mere! Have a seat!”

You grab a nearby chair and drag it closer to his bedside. You hate to see Peter cooped up and frustrated like this, but it’s good to see him, period. You don’t like to think about what could’ve happened to him in Cairo.

When you look back up at Peter, his hair is smoothed down neatly. You snort involuntarily. If he's feeling well enough to be vain, it must be a good sign.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

Peter slumps against his stack of pillows and groans dramatically, letting his head fall back.

“I’m bored out of my mind. Do you know that they’re not letting me walk for a week? A whole week! Something about a risk of my leg not healing right if I move too fast on it. I said I’d walk like a normal person, but they apparently don’t trust me. Can you believe that? Don’t answer that. So I asked them just to drug me, knock me out for the rest of the week so I can get it over with, but they won’t do that either. This blows.”

It’s hard not to smile, but it’s just so good to hear his voice. And, damn, people say you talk too fast. You’d forgotten that Peter was the true motor-mouth. Maybe he’s where you picked it up from. Though he still looks annoyed, Peter seems a little more relaxed after all that. Apparently he needed someone to vent to.

He rolls his head to one side to look at you, and his brows furrow. “Hey, are you okay? You look tired.”

“I look tired?” you say, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“I haven’t, actually, because the mirror’s all the way over there, and I’m stuck in bed. You wouldn’t guess that having to sit alone with your own thoughts would wear you out, but apparently it does.”

You’d had a feeling that the broken leg isn’t all that’s weighing on his mind. There’s still the whole Magneto business.

You almost ask him about it, but you think better of it. Peter’s got a lot to mull over on that front. If he wants to talk about it, you’ll be there to listen, but you don’t want to bring it up when he doesn’t have any way to exit the conversation if he needed to. You decide to change the topic slightly.

“Listen,” you say, “I never got a chance to thank you. You saved my life. You saved so many people. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t turned up at the mansion when you did.”

Peter ducks his head a bit as he smiles, probably pleased to get a little recognition. There hadn’t been much time for gratitude in the moment. There hadn’t been much time for anything, really. And there certainly hadn’t been time to reconnect.

You’d chased after Scott and his friends into the wreckage, trying to make sure none of them got hurt, and then things went from bad to worse. Suddenly, you found yourself tagging along with these immensely powerful teenagers on a fly-by-night rescue mission. It’s a good thing you did, too. Who else was gonna fly that getaway plane?

Your own mutant abilities had never been particularly strong, not in a combat sense. You’d learned to be a pilot in an effort to make yourself useful. You just hadn’t expected it to pay off in a situation like that.

“What can I say? Right time, right place… Right speed.” Peter’s grin turns rueful as he glances down at his busted leg. “I mean, by all rights, I should be thanking you, too.”

You’d been trying not to dwell on that whole experience. It makes you feel a little sick to remember seeing that familiar silver streak darting around while Apocalypse was tossed in the air like a ragdoll, and then feeling the hope choked out of you as you heard Peter scream in pain.

You don’t know how you managed to scramble down out of that second story ruin after Hank and Scott without hurting yourself any worse, but you did. You tried to shake it from your mind – the feeling of shrapnel and energy battering the telekinetic field you’d struggled to maintain around Peter and Mystique.

You clear your throat, as though that’ll somehow clear out the memory as well. “Yeah… I guess sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until it’s literally do-or-die.”

“I don’t just mean Cairo.” Peter shakes his head. “Well, that, too. But I don’t just mean that. I mean when we were kids. You always had my back.”

Just before middle school, Peter’s family had moved away. You weren’t quite sure why, but it seemed like something had happened and Peter wouldn’t talk about it. He spent his entire last week in town with you, and on the very last day he hugged you tightly and promised that he’d come back and visit if he could.

You never heard from him again.

It was only years later that you’d put the pieces together – the Maximoffs’ sudden move, the well-dressed men turning up at the school and asking strange questions. Peter must’ve gotten caught using his powers, and his mother packed up the whole family and fled to protect him.

“For weeks, months after we moved away, Mom was so scared. She wouldn’t let me out of the house. She thought that, any second, somebody was gonna show up and… I dunno, take me away, I guess. But I wasn’t worried. I was a cocky little shit, y’know?”

You snort. “‘Was?’ Pretty sure that part of your personality hasn’t changed.”

Peter laughs, but it fades quickly.

“I heard that people came to our old school looking for me. And, hey, they never found me and Mom, so I figured you must’ve covered for me.”

If there was one thing you were grateful to your younger self for, it was your instinctive distrust of these suspicious strangers.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” you say, and Peter nods.

“I knew you wouldn’t. But this one day, something hit me. What if they found out that you were a mutant, too?” Peter shakes his head, biting his lip. “I was terrified. I thought they were gonna find you, and… and I don’t know what I thought they’d do to you.”

You feel cold all of a sudden. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. You’d been so focused on trying to keep Peter safe that you never once considered that you might be in danger, yourself. All those news articles about what Bolivar Trask had been up to ten years ago come flooding into your mind. You brush them aside and focus on what Peter’s saying now.

“I wanted to run back there, make sure you were alright; maybe – I don’t know – take you with me and run away so we’d both be safe. I actually bought one of those AM radios, if you can believe it. Every night, I’d use the skip to listen to the news back there. I never heard anything about you, so I had to make myself believe it meant that you were okay. Otherwise I would’ve gone crazy, y’know?”

He laughs again, but it sounds a little shaky.

“Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. The air in the room feels sorta heavy now. Damn it, you’d come here to cheer Peter up, and it’s about time you get to it. You change topics with all the grace of a sledgehammer. “Speaking of none of this, I brought you something.”

Peter immediately perks up. You rummage in your backpack and pull out a box of Nutty Buddy bars.

“I remember these where your favorite when we were kids. I didn’t know if you still liked them, so I brought some Star Crunch, too. But you don’t have to-”

Peter seems to blur for a moment, and suddenly both boxes are torn open and several wrappers are arcing their way into the trash can. Peter lets out a satisfied sigh. You might’ve remembered his favorites, but you’d forgotten his habit of absolutely inhaling them.

“Okay, I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” you say.

“What else you got in that bag?” Peter asks. “It can’t all be snack cakes. Unless it is…?”

He’s joking, but you can tell he wouldn’t be disappointed if the answer was yes. You heft your heavily-loaded backpack onto the edge of the bed.

“I figured you’d be bored, so I brought some books over in case you… What?”

Peter never had a great poker face. You can tell that he’s definitely trying to smile, but that expression is a pained grimace. He laughs ruefully.

“I might not be able to walk, but my hands still work. And my eyes. Did you know I can read a whole bookshelf in two hours?”

“Oh…”

You hadn’t thought of that. You look down, crestfallen. Of course, if something can be done at speed, that’s how Peter will do it. So that rules out all the other usual time-killers – crosswords or jigsaw puzzles or craft projects.

But you remember Peter enjoying some things that can’t be sped through – live music being the main one. You start to wonder about the logistics of sneaking Peter out to take him to a concert or a play or something, but that’d be difficult to pull off without the professor catching you. Hmm…

Peter’s brow furrows for a second, and then his expression brightens.

“Hey, why don’t you read them to me?”

You blink in surprise. “What, me?”

“Yeah, you. Who else?”

At this prospect, you’re suddenly rethinking everything. For all Peter might call himself a loser, you’d always seen him as infinitely cooler than yourself.

“I don’t know. These are some of my own books, and I don’t know if you’ll actually like any of them.” You can feel yourself blushing preemptively, certain he’ll judge your taste in literature. “Maybe if I run to the library instead-”

“No, don’t go!” Peter interrupts. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and I’m sick of being alone. Come on, read me your nerd books. Please?”

He turns those big, pretty, puppy-dog eyes on you, and it’d be almost impossible to say no, even if you wanted to. Which you don’t. You sigh, smiling at him.

“Alright, you win,” you say, “But you have to at least pick which one.”

His face brightens into a full thousand-watt grin. “Done!”

Peter blurs once more as he shuffles through your selection of books. Then suddenly he’s still again, tilting his head as he studies a stout little paperback.

“Hey, didn’t they make a movie out of this?”

He tosses it to you and settles back against the pillows, watching you expectantly. You pull up your legs to sit cross-legged on the chair and take a deep breath. Here goes.

“‘Carl Conrad Coreander – Old Books.’ This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop…”

You read on, interrupted only by the odd quip or question from Peter. You hardly mind his commentary. You’re just happy that the story seems to be entertaining him. He’s a far cry from the agitated ball of nerves he’d been when you walked in.

You glance over at the clock and see that two hours have gone by. You wonder if Peter would mind you taking a quick intermission to give your voice a break. But as you turn to ask him, you fall silent.

Peter’s head is lolled back on the pillows, his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths – sound asleep.

You smile fondly at him. Poor guy. He really must’ve been exhausted.

Telekinetically, you switch off the lamp. The atmosphere in the room softens to the grey light filtering in from the rainy day outside. There. That’s more conducive to sleeping.

You make note of the page you’d left off on and close the book, picking up your copy of Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Moving as carefully and quietly as you can to keep from waking Peter, you make your way over to a more comfortable spot on the window seat.

You’d hate for Peter to think you’d run out on him after he fell asleep. You’ll stick around. And if he needs anything when he wakes up, you’ll be here. That’s what old friends are for.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fluff #x men fanfiction #fanfiction #okay listen XP #we’re in the middle of a pandemic #and if writing something silly and self indulgent will cheer me up #(and hopefully entertain other people)#then I’m gonna write it XP #just shouting into the void #peter maximoff fanfiction

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jipuragi · 4 years ago

Text

la nostra casetta (our little house)

Summary:

“An Italian child can cook better than him.” Vincenzo cast a disapproving look in Chef Toto’s direction.

“Does that mean you can cook too?” Chayoung playfully nudged his knee under the table.

“You never asked,” he shrugged before taking a delicate bite of kimchi.

Ship: Hong Chayoung x Vincenzo Cassano (Gen)

Word Count: 2876, AO3 link

A/N: Written by @soulofevil and @the-marathon-continues-nip , beta’d by @sunalsolove , banner by @acerobbiereyes

“I can’t believe we’re eating kimchi fried rice at an Italian restaurant,” Chayoung commented as she lifted her chopsticks to her mouth, laden with rice. “Mmm, it’s delicious.” She ate her bite then eagerly dug in again. “Chef Toto is an amazing cook.”

Vincenzo snorted as he carefully picked away the mushrooms and placed them to the side.

“He’s passable at Korean food. Terrible at that contrivance he calls Italian.” Vincenzo cast a disapproving look in Chef Toto’s direction. “An Italian child can cook better than him.”

“Does that mean you can cook too?” She playfully nudged his knee under the table. “And why hasn’t the great Vincenzo Cassano offered to make spaghetti for his dearest partner Hong Chayoung? Hmm?” She folded her arms in mock anger.

“You never asked,” he shrugged before taking a delicate bite of kimchi.

“It’s a date then. You cook, I’ll bring the wine,” Chayoung lifted her water glass in a salute. “Call me when you get home.”

“Hey, you can’t pick the wine,” Vincenzo said, sitting up straight. “You’d probably get something French.”

Chayoung’s heart skipped a beat when she realized he didn’t argue about it being a date. “What’s wrong with French wine?” she asked, eager to change the subject. She could feel her cheeks burning. “Don’t they make the best red wine?”

Vincenzo’s chopsticks clattered to the table, thankfully oblivious to her blushing.

“The French make the best red wine?” He raised his voice at the horror of it all. “Do they make the best pasta dishes too? Why would I want French wine with Italian food?”

Chayoung couldn’t help but lean forward, placing her elbows on the table to watch him fondly. Vincenzo was always so attractive when he was engrossed in a subject he loved, whether it was fighting or talking about food and wine.

After agreeing to cook for Cha-young, Vincenzo now had the dilemma of what to cook.

He took stock of the contents of his refrigerator, wanting to put his imported Italian goods to use but unfortunately, he didn’t have much.

Babel kept them busy and restocking his luxury items had been pushed to the wayside.

But didn’t his adopted mother always say that the best dishes were often the simplest?

Inspiration struck and he began moving around in his small kitchen, pulling out the flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt.

It was a simple recipe, one he’d been making since he was a Korean-only speaking youth, and needed to stand on a chair to reach the countertop.

His adopted family used cooking as a chance for them to bond and teach him those Italian words that had felt so foreign in his mouth. Soon, mixing and kneading the dough had grown into a simple but pleasant experience, one that had become a weekly habit in Italy.

Maybe that was part of the reason he was feeling at ease now?

He hadn’t bothered cooking anything that required more work than boiling water since coming to Korea but now, as he tossed flour onto the counter and worked his hands into the dough, he felt different. Until recently his apartment had been little more than a hotel room, a temporary place to sleep until he could obtain his gold while he and Ms. Hong fought Babel.

His kneading slowed as he thought about Chayoung, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. She frequently crossed his mind these days making him feel... lighter. It was a foreign feeling that he couldn’t name yet but found pleasant and refreshing.

He dropped the dough before he could overwork it and wrapped it in plastic so it could rest, and then moved on to start his prep work for the carbonara and the scene for dinner. With an eye on the clock, he sent a quick text to Chayoung telling her to arrive in an hour before he settled back into the kitchen.

Running on autopilot Vincenzo went to work mincing shallots and garlic while remembering his earlier conversation with Chayoung.

She’d called this a date, maybe setting out a candle would be appropriate? It was also cliche as hell and she’d probably make fun of him, but he wanted to make her happy, to feel just a fraction of the warmth he did when he was in her presence. He smiled softly, glad to be in the privacy of his apartment so he could be alone with his thoughts and away from the rest of Geumga Plaza.

His smile disappeared, and his eyes widened in horror. Would Chayoung compare his table setting to Chef Toto’s garish setup?

A small sigh escaped him as he moved onto the next step of dinner. He didn’t question how Chayoung would react to their revenge plans against Babel which involved actual murder but something as simple as a candle for dinner made him… nervous?

It was such an unfamiliar feeling after being the Cassano consigliere for so long.

The alarm on his phone went off as a timer he didn’t even remember setting finished. He stared at it blankly before shaking his head, half an hour had already passed and he didn’t even notice.

He finished dicing up the pancetta and turned his eyes to the resting pasta. Asking ‘Chef’ Toto for his pasta machine would’ve saved him time but his pride demanded that he do it by hand, especially for Chayoung.

Besides, it was easy enough that he could go back to thinking about Chayoung, a soft smile returning to his face.

Chayoung loved alcohol and would drink soju, beer, and makgeolli, but she didn’t know much about wine.

It bothered her that Vincenzo didn’t think she was sophisticated enough to know what wine to choose, so she took it as a challenge.

She was going to surprise him with the best Italian wine.

Chayoung remembered Vincenzo saying that the wine store near her house was better stocked than the one near Jipuragi. Initially, she’d thought he was merely giving an excuse to walk her home but he did have a point.

The wine store in her neighborhood was a large one that stocked drinks from all over the globe.

“ Sforzato di Valtellina,” her tongue tripped over the Italian. According to the label, it was an intensely scented red wine that had an interesting origin of Nebbiolo grapes that had been left to wither.

Wasn’t that like her and Vincenzo? On the outskirts of society, left for dead as outsiders?

She bought the bottle of red wine, and white wine, just in case.

The knock at the door was right on time.

“The door’s open!” Vincenzo made sure he was loud enough to be heard, too engaged at the stove to leave it. He did take a look behind him, not wanting to miss Chayoung’s animated reaction to the amazing smells filling his apartment.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Omo!” Chayoung sniffed the air dramatically as she entered Vincenzo’s apartment. She eagerly kicked off her shoes in the foyer and slipped into house slippers. “Am I at a Mafia’s house, or an Italian Chef? It smells delicious!”

“Don’t be silly,” he grumbled, stirring the pot, though his mouth curved upward in a smile.

“If Babel puts us out of business, we can always open up an Italian stall in the night market.” Chayoung stepped into the kitchen. “You can cook behind the scenes, and since I’m the pretty one, I’ll attract customers and sell.”

“Are you finished with your wishful thinking?” Vincenzo asked, rolling his eyes, though he agreed with her assessment that she was the pretty one.

“Never.” She poked his side and eagerly peered at the pot on the stove. “Can I taste?”

“No, it’s not finished.” Vincenzo batted her hand away though it was more playful than anything. “What’s that?” He gestured to the bags she’d left on the table.

“I hope you like it.” Chayoung blushed, uncharacteristically shy. “I wasn’t sure what to get,” she mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear, feeling self-conscious. “I don’t usually drink wine and-”

“Don’t worry. I’ll like it,” Vincenzo said softly. His heart skipped a beat, as it always did when Chayoung seemed vulnerable. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her that everything was okay, and he’d never make her feel inadequate.

He helped her unpack the bags. “You bought Italian wine and not French?” His slight smile turned into a grin. “And two bottles?”

“And soju. And makgeolli. Just in case.” Chayoung’s cheeks were flaming now because she felt silly.

“It’s perfect,” Vincenzo said, not taking his eyes off her. “Thank you.”

She dipped her head in acknowledgment, then changed the subject.

“So, if times get tough, can we cook Inzhagi, or is he a family member now?”

Vincenzo couldn’t move two steps without Chayoung being behind him. She wanted to see what he was doing, taste the sauce along the way, whilst commenting on the process.

Normally, he was able to adapt to her being around, but this time, he was getting nervous.

Suppose he didn’t cook it correctly?

Suppose he did it right, but it wasn't to her taste?

Suppose-

“Ooh, Mr. Cassano, are these candles?” Chayoung interrupted his thoughts.

Vincenzo turned around. Chayoung was at the dining table, holding the tea light candles he’d fished out from a drawer, probably left there by the previous tenant.

“Are you planning to seduce me?” she smirked. “How naughty!”

“Ms .Hong -”

“They’re scented,” she made a show of holding the candles and sniffing them. There were about half a dozen of them, in an opened package, smelling faintly of vanilla. “How romantic!” She scrunched her nose at him playfully.

Vincenzo didn’t even hide his smile as she meandered off. He was happy and enjoying it. Just then, the timer for the pasta began beeping, and attention diverted, he left her to her own devices.

While he was distracted with marking dinner, Chayoung slipped into his bedroom, looking for a lighter.

His room was dark, smelling faintly of Vincenzo’s cologne and her breath caught, wondering if he’d thought of her in his bedroom if he ever thought of her as he showered and dressed. Her gaze moved to his bed, tucked in the corner, plain and neat as a pin, and begging to be messed up.

Unbidden, an image formed in her mind.

One of her leading Vincenzo to the bed and making him sit quietly, hands to his side so he could watch her slowly disrobe.

Would he like to be teased? Or would he prefer to take the lead, pushing her on the bed and pinning her arms above her head, kissing her deep and rough, like he wanted to-

“Lighters are on my dresser. If that’s what you’re looking for.”

Chayoung yelped, almost dropping the candle. Vincenzo was right beside her, watching her intently.

“Of course that’s what I’m looking for,” she gathered her wits. “Why else would I be in your bedroom?”

“Why else indeed,” he smirked, as he gestured to his dresser, on the other side of the room. “Make yourself at home.” He abruptly turned and left.

Chayoung’s face flushed. He couldn’t have guessed her thoughts, could he?

But she forgot about her embarrassment when she came across his lighter collection.

“How beautiful,” she breathed.

There were six golden lighters set upon a navy blue cloth with different sheens from bright lusters, to worn patinas. She gravitated towards the one that looked like a pocket watch, as it was the only round one, but then she noticed the plain lighter with no engraving. It wasn’t as eye-catching as the rest.

It made her think.

When did Vincenzo start collecting lighters? What made him choose one above the other? Did they have to be gold? If she gifted him with a lighter, would he accept it?

She chose the plain one, then returned to the kitchen where the pasta was already drained, the sauce finished, and Vincenzo was now setting the table.

Chayoung’s chest tightened as she clutched his lighter and blinked back tears.

She remembered life before her mother passed away, and the mundane things that made them a family. Cooking her father’s favorite food, and buying her mother’s favorite dessert, and spending time together in their kitchen.

How did it all go wrong, where she was now an orphan and alone?

Just then Vincenzo looked up, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw her face, before softening.

“Light the candles, Ms. Hong?” he asked, gently. “While I pour the wine?”

She nodded, choked up.

With the food done, wine poured, and Chayoung lighting the candles, the atmosphere was almost set for their evening.

The silence between them was a comfortable one, however, Vincenzo wanted more to fill his apartment.

His music library was limited to the soundtracks of his favorite operas, one of the few comforts he’d allowed himself when he was homesick for Italy. Some Wagner, a Mozart, but it was Pucci’s Tosca that his fingers settled on.

It was hard to pick a favorite opera but Tosca was easily his favorite soundtrack.

He put it on, turning down the volume so it would fill the background with the pleasant soprano of the titular Tosca before taking his seat across from Chayoung.

She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling, and his breath caught. This was life and joy, and he wanted to experience every moment.

He picked slowly at his food, twirling his fork in the pasta, eating at a leisurely pace.

“This is so good,” Chayoung moaned, closing her eyes. “You’re such a good cook.” She opened her eyes, grinning mischievously. “What else are you good at, Mr. Cassano?”

Vincenzo took a sip of wine as his heart thudded.

“I made this for you , so I’m glad you like it.” He avoided her flirtatious question, raising his glass in a toast, though his face grew warm. “I want you to be happy.”

Her smile faltered as her gaze drifted to his lips, and then his hands which were clutching his wine glass.

“I love it,” she said, dipping her head before she attacked her pasta again.

The tea lights had burned down and the first bottle of wine had been finished off along with the carbonara when Vincenzo and Chayoung moved to the couch bringing the second bottle of wine.

Music played softly in the background, filling the comfortable silence that stretched out between them. He was at ease, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. It had been a long time since he had felt this level of peace with another person and Cha-young…

She was something special.

He didn’t know the words to describe how she made him feel or the way she affected him. But Vincenzo knew he wasn’t ready for her to leave just yet, even as their drinking slowed and Cha-young’s head rested on the back of the couch with her eyes closed.

It was foolish to sit there, savoring the way she looked like he savored the Sforzato in his glass but he had no choice.

She looked peaceful in that half-asleep state with only a small frown resting on her lips and not all the tension and worry of the Babel case etched on her features.

“What are we listening to?”

He tried not to jump when she spoke up, masking his surprise with a hum. Cha-young didn’t seem to notice as she continued on.

“It sounds terribly depressing and sad. I can’t imagine how bleak the words must be.”

Vincenzo chuckled softly, she wasn’t wrong.

“It’s Pucci’s Tosca ,” he said. “We’ve been listening to it since dinner started.”

“No wonder I’m sleepy now,” Chayoung snorted, snuggling close to Vincenzo, her head laying on his shoulder.

“I can turn it off,” Vincenzo offered. He settled into the couch, making room for Chayoung, and following her lead, he wrapped his hand around her waist so she could cuddle closer to his side.

“No. I can like it ‘cause you do.” Chayoung melted into his side, closing her eyes. “Stay.”

Vincenzo exhaled as he looked down, her silky hair fanned across his chest, and her long eyelashes dark against her cheeks. He gave in to the feelings of tenderness that had been creeping up all evening and letting it wash over him.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” he murmured. It was hard for him, letting his guard down, and being vulnerable. But he would do it for her.

“I think I could fall in love with you, Mr. Cassano,” Chayoung whispered, burrowing even more into him. She was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her legs tucked under her as she fell into a deep sleep.

And just like that, Vincenzo knew that his plans had to change, that he couldn’t leave Korea without considering this woman who’d been at his side, showing him light and love, and a better way to live.

He stroked her arm, waiting for her breathing to even out, and when she started lightly snoring, he smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head on hers.

“I’m already in love with you,” he confessed, deliberately speaking in Italian.

Curling up into the couch, and around Chayoung, he fell asleep as well.

#chayenzo fanfic #vincenzo #vincenzo kdrama #hong cha young #vincenzo cassano

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honey-makki · 4 years ago

Text

grandma’s blessing

best friend!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death (family member), oral (fem receiving), fire, probably unsanitary cooking conditions if i’m being honest (it’s soft i swear)

summary: the holidays are your favorite time of year. your best friend hanamaki tries to keep holiday cheer alive despite the loss of a family member.

word count 2.4k

masterlist

Holiday’s are tricky. Decisions on whether the trauma of going home will be a heavier burden to bear than the guilt and loneliness of your city apartment. GOing home was never a pleasant experience. Trips filled with parents nitpicking your seemingly successful life and emotionally battering you about anything and everything they could. The only reprieve would be hugging your grandmother and being able to see her face-to-face during dinner. She understood why you didn’t come home every opportunity and didn’t blame you a bit.

On years when it would be too much to travel, you knew that she would still give you a call. Spending all day on the phone with you while you bounced around the kitchen making much smaller portions of what they would be eating at home. Even the small amounts of silence on the call were comfortable. You could feel her next to you kneading the dough for a pie while you mixed together the fruit base. It felt like home.

The silence that has been living in your apartment the past few months after her passing was suffocating. Weekends spent with friends at their apartment just to get out of somewhere that just seems to reek of death and despair.

You had spent more nights at Makki’s place in the past month than at your own. He was your closest friend, a true confidant, someone skilled at lifting your mood, and the person you’ve been undeniably in love with for years. You accepted the fate of growing old with a horde of cats as long as you can have his silly pink hair shining in the sun when you hung out with friends. It’s ok that you are going to be alone forever as long as you still had a standing laser tag date once a month. The only thing stronger than your feelings of love towards the strawberry blond was fear of losing him.

He has been a pillar of strength during the past few months. Holding your crying body until you fall asleep on his tear-stained and snot covered chest. Setting alarms in your phone to make sure you are eating or going to work instead of sitting in a dissociative state. Ever since you shared a bed with him, he’s been a little more comfortable with physical contact. Walking closer together arms touching when going out or throwing an arm over your shoulder when lounging around the house. You can’t count the number of times you’ve both woken up in various stages of cuddling.

He was the one to bring up spending the holidays together. He had just gone home for a wedding and couldn’t afford another ticket and he knew that you were in a weird spot. “We can stay here and make dinner and bake cookies and watch shitty r-romcoms? Someone has to appreciate Hallmark movies, why not us?” You can hear his voice crack and start to speed up as a blush rises across his face. You see it but don’t really process it, more relieved that for the first time in months, the thought of holidays didn’t make you run to the bathroom and throw up. You smiled and nodded, setting plans for him to come over later in the week.

Makki always liked when you cooked, throwing a western spin on dishes he considered normal. But today, he was flabbergasted, you didn’t let him just sit on the barstool curating music while you did all the work, no, there was too much food to be made for him to laze around. You laid out the recipe for your grandmothers’ mac n’ cheese, explaining what everything meant while you got started on an asian fusion stuffing you figured out a few years back.

You stole glances at him in the middle of stirring, combining and folding everything together. His tongue sticks out between his lips while he deliberately measures out the exact amount of cheese required. In all the time you’ve seen him, you’ve never seen him totally lose his laid back air until now, and you can’t control your laugh. Is he really more serious about measuring out sharp cheddar cheese than a game that would take them to nationals? Or that physics final he actually studied for? Your heart skips a beat when you see his soft, satisfied smile to the dish he just created. All you can picture when he looks over to you is how cute of a child he must have been. Cheeks round encasing his bright smile as his head tilts ever so slightly to the left.

After he slides the last dish into the oven, you both opt for taking the time to clean the kitchen, knowing that you won’t want to do it after dinner. The dishes are washed and dried and while Makki puts away the ones that go on a higher shelf, you return flour and other ingredients to the pantry but before you put them down you call out to him, voice lighter than normal, the one you use when asking a favor.

“Taka, how upset would you be if I said I wanted to cook a little bit more?”

“You get dishes this time around then, but what are we makin’?”

You turn out of the pantry with a bounce in your step before slapping down the flour and newly acquired, chocolate chips and sprinkles. “Cookies! We always made cookies with my grandma and it wouldn’t be the same without them.” Your eyes sparkle at the thought of the sweet treats and equally sweet memories of your childhood. Makki thinks you are breathtaking.

“Let me get the bowls back down and we can probably make mediocre cookies if you have anything you do with it.” He smiles at just how cute the squawk you made from his teasing is, just happy that he gets to be here with you. He doesn’t really hear how you defend your baking skills and complain that just because you forgot flour one time doesn’t mean you are inept at baking.

He never thought he would be the type to settle down and be domestic, it just didn’t seem like something he cared a lot about, but now he he can’t rid his mind of the thought of waking up ten minutes before your alarm just to make you a cup of coffee or throwing your favorite blanket in the drier on days it’s raining so when you get home, you can melt into the soft plush and warm up instantly.The clattering of spices brings him back to the moment, turning to see you picking up the cinnamon and vanilla extract.

“You good, love?” There’s something about how you look when you flustered because of him, that scratches an itch he didn’t know was there. The first time a pet name like this had slipped through his lips he was certain that whatever line the two of you were toeing had been crossed, demolished. Instead you just tucked your hair away and averted your gaze back to whatever shitty movie the two of you were “watching” that night. Now it’s normal, well its not normal, its very much not normal for him to refer to you as love or babe and it's not normal for you to exclusivley call him by his first name. It's decidedly abnormal considering your relationship or lack thereof. But if you aren’t going to question it neither is he.

He helps you up and gather the remaining ingredients for the “famous snickerdoodle cookies” that you swear had won awards. The mixing of the dough is interrupted when he has to grab your wrist to stop you from adding salt instead of sugar. You refuse to look at him because you know he is sporting a huge smirk and raised eyebrows, knowing that he’s right about you not being the best baker. You are reprieved by the oven going off, signaling to remove the earlier and change the temperature.

“Damn, babe, these cookies look so good, especially this one.” You return to Makki who already started to lay out the dough on the baking tray. You see perfectly round blobs squished slightly by a fork for a pattern and then right in front of him you see the cookie he was talking about. You didn't expect to see your 27 year old boyfriend-who-isn’t-your-boyfriend to be holding a cockshaoped cookie. But really, you should have seen it coming from the guy who laughs when either of you fart.

He can hear the clock ticking as you just stare, annoyed. He was concerned for a second, that maybe he shouldn’t have made a lewd joke when making cookies. This is something he used to do with her grandmother, you stupid idiot.. But when he can see the apple of your cheek peeking out from behind your hand, he recognizes that face. The one that positively exudes warmth and happiness with her laughter. The butterflies always buzzing in his stomach go wild when this face comes out. He would do anything to see it for the rest of time.

You don’t know where the courage comes from but you cup his cheek for a kiss, he mirrors your action. It just felt normal, and you honestly didn’t realize that it wasn’t normal until you both pulled back. Your eyes are locked on his, both of you sporting a soft smile until his keeps growing, evolving into a laugh that is borderline offensive in how loud it is.

You don’t know why and you get a little nervous that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, when you go to hide your face, you feel the heat rising but also a soft powdery coating? And that’s when you realize his hands are still coated in flour from shaping the cookies. Your eyes are rolling while you chuckle but Makki on the other hand is losing his mind, almost in tears from laughing while putting the cookies in the oven. “It’s not that funny, Takahiro! Get me a napkin please.”

“Nah, you look really sweet. Good enough to eat.” You weren’t surprised when he returned to kissing you, nor when he lifted you up by your thighs and plopped you on the counter. The kisses are sweet, lazy and perfect for a second kiss, and a third and a fourth. This is normal. His lips belong on yours. Your hands should be tangled up in his hair while his run over your waist and legs. This is right. There's no rush to deepen the kiss, both of you happy to just indulge in the warmth of the other, but it is inevitable. A soft nip at your bottom lip or an accidental tug of his hair, neither of you know what happened first but you both are staring at each other, panting lightly with a much darker gaze than the original flour induced makeout session.

“You are just as sweet as I thought. Gotta have a taste.” His voice is raspier than you’ve ever heard and you just let him move your body as he pleases. Pull your hips to the edge of the counter. Spread your legs as far apart as they’ll go. Lift your hips when he pulls your shorts and underwear down. Gotta act as sweet as he says I am. He has barely touched you but when he falls to his knees and just stares at your dripping slit that he's imagined for years, your eyes, you are already imagining how good he's going to feel.

You shouldn’t even try to think, his tongue exceeded any expectation or desire you had. Expertly flicking against your throbbing clit as he works two fingers in you. You feel the groan he lets out when he dips his tongue into your hole before you hear it. The vibrations reverberate up your spine and through your body, an all-consuming heat starting in your stomach, threatening to let loose, to run rampant on your body. His fingers, joined by another, return to your clenching hole and search for the spongy spot hidden deep inside. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your head, drowning out every other noise.

“C’mon love, cum on my fingers, on my tongue, I’ve wanted, dreamed about this for years, give it to me.” His slow words juxtaposed the fervent pace of his fingers and it was enough to send you over the edge.

You feel so hot you fear you might pass out, the groan Makki lets out beneath you is the only thing keeping you grounded. You were first concerned that you had hurt him in someway, but when you see his eyes roll back into his head and his tongue trying to lap up every single bit of cum you squirted on his face and thighs, you know it wasn’t due to excruciating pain, rather it's just an obscene reaction to you.

When you push him back, squirming with overstimulation, you hear him scramble and “Shit! Fuck! Fire extinguisher?? WHERE IS YOUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER???” You are still out of it until he starts actually screaming, words still evade you but he follows your line of sight to the red tube hiding in the corner next to the fridge. The smell of smoke is overwhelming all of a sudden. You were in a dreamlike post orgasmic state and suddenly your coughing, eyes hazy.

the cookies, SHIT THE COOKIES!! Smoke is billowing out of the oven and your fire alarm is blaring, but soon the room is filled with a white foam originating from Makki. You never realized that the foam would continue to expand until half of your kitchen was covered in it and you saw a sheepish looking Makki on the other side.

“Fires out”. Again, he starts to laugh at you, and this time you join him. Today has turned out entirely different than you expected. It wasn’t a sad day, it was filled with laughter, romance, an ill timed fire and Makki. All in all, a successful holiday, despite the fact everything you cooked was coated in foam. He’d seen you staring at the food and already took his phone out to order food, “Indian or ramen?”

Yeah, you think you’re grandma would be happy seeing you like this. Happy Holidays.

a/n: i don’t really know what this is but the image of makki being a disaster in the kitchen came to me one day and here we are. make sure you read the other fics in the collab

matsukawa’s funeral home winter collab

a/n 2.0: also a/o to @iwaasfairy for making that makki image that i used in my header. i love her more than i love him which say a lot

#hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki drabble #hanamaki x y/n #hanamaki smut #haikyuu smut #makki smut #makki x reader #makki x you #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki.coffee #kristen.writes #oral.espresso

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years ago

Text

My Hero

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: Detailed anxiety/panic attack (there's comfort, ofc), little bit of mutism

Author’s Note:

So it was requested by my friend, @sasha-annelie-quinn, that I do some anxiety comfort with Kirishima! I had fun with this one, even though some parts of it were a little hard for me to write. It feels like it's been too long since I've done some good old Kirishima fluff, so here we go!

Enjoy!

-Sugar

----------------≪ °✾° ≫----------------

Even in hallways as big as the ones of UA, it was easy to feel cramped.

The fluorescent lights seemed to burn painfully bright above your head, and the din of students in the hall unpleasantly flooded your ears. You were currently walking beside your boyfriend, Kirishima, who was in a different class than you. He was chattering about . . . something. Honestly, you weren’t sure anymore, what with everything going on around you and inside your head. It wasn’t as though you didn’t want to listen to what he had to say—you loved hearing him talk—but there was something else bothering you.

In a few minutes, you were going to have to give a presentation in front of your whole class. You figured you were prepared well enough, but you knew you’d lock up anyway. What with how everyone would be staring at you, the pressure would be too intense. After years of trying to speak in front of people, you knew most of your practice would go to waste. No matter how long you’d stand in front of the mirror and go over your cards, no matter how well you knew your topic, you’d forget everything as soon as you stood at the front of the room.

Such is your life.

Your stomach was already turning at the thought of what you were going to be forced to do in a few minutes. Nervously, you clutched your textbooks tighter into your chest, the hard covers digging into your skin. Maybe it would be helpful if you tried to calm yourself down a bit. You lidded your eyes just enough to still be able to see where you were going, and tried to take a few deep breaths.

Everything would turn out alright, you tried to tell yourself. Only fifteen minutes out of my life. And then I’ll move on. I’m not going to die. Maybe I’ll feel like it, but it won’t actually happen—

“Hey, (Y/N), are you doing okay?”

A hand rested on your shoulder, effectively jarring you out of your thoughts. Except, maybe it jarred you a little too much.

You startled, losing your grip on the books you carried in your arms. They fell to the floor with a loud thud, making a few other students in the hallway look towards you. Your feet stilled in place as you froze, trembling under the pitying gaze of passerby. You’d already felt so sick, nausea roiling deep within your stomach as the lump in your throat prevented anything from actually coming up. The white-hot fear that had been nagging at every tip of your nerves finally seemed to shatter, making your knees weak and your heart pound in your chest.

No no no, you thought to yourself, hating the way you were already breaking down over something so small. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry, it’ll be one hundred times worse if you start crying, especially since you have to go to class in a few minutes, please, no no—

Your eyes stung, and even though you’d taught yourself over years of struggling with this to push it down, not to cry in front of everyone, your vision was already so blurry.

You thought you might have heard a voice speaking next to you, but it was as though you were a thousand miles away, or possibly deep, deep underground. Arms suddenly wound around your shoulders, effectively getting your attention. You felt yourself walking a few steps down the hall again before you were pulled into an empty classroom. The lights were off, and as soon as the door shut, the sounds of the hallway muffled to almost nothing.

“I’ve got you.”

You finally processed the voice above you, and how you were currently being held against Kirishima’s chest. You felt strangely secure, pressed up against him and wrapped in his hold.

“I want you to breathe for me, (Y/N), alright? Here, with me.”

You listened to the air flow into his nose, and noticed the way his chest swelled all the way out against your cheek. Copying him, your own chest expanded with a deep intake of oxygen. Instantly your nerves began to quiet down, and you held the air in your lungs for a moment just to feel it.

“And out again,” Kirishima murmured to you, letting his own breath escape from his mouth.

You continued to breathe with him for another minute until most of your trembling had ceased. Your arms reached to reciprocate his hug, finally squeezing his ribs as you let your face nuzzle back into his chest.

“Any better?” he asked, placing a hand on the back of your neck. You nodded, and he smiled faintly above you. “Are you able to talk?”

You thought for a moment, experimenting with putting your voice in your throat. Finally you shook your head.

“It’s okay, just listen to my heartbeat. I’m here for you, alright? You’re not alone, I’m not going to leave you until this passes.”

Kirishima leaned back against the doorframe, letting you stay latched onto him. He ran his hand down your back while you continued to inhale his scent, letting the familiarity of it comfort you.

Kirishima was warm. Kirishima was soft. His uniform blazer was gray and green, and his tie was red. You could hear his heartbeat, and the sound of him breathing—back to normal now. And there were still the sounds outside, even quieter as more and more students found their way to their next class.

Class….

“I can’t be late,” you forced out, shifting to pull away from your boyfriend.

“No,” he said, trying to keep you from leaving. “That’s not important now. I can explain things to your teacher, he’ll understand. You can’t go back out there like this.”

“But I have to. I have to present today.”

His eyes marginally widened with understanding, pieces clicking together in his head. “So that’s why you were upset earlier.”

“Yeah.”

He reluctantly let you go, still torn between calming you down and causing you more anxiety from skipping class. You stepped out into the hallway with him following, and you were pleased to find that your books were still on the floor, pushed against the wall in order to clear the walkway.

“Thanks for helping me,” you said to Kirishima as you gathered them back into your arms. “It means so much, you have no idea.”

“I know you’d do the same for me,” he said, smiling. “You should get going. Passing period is almost up.”

“Yeah.” Still shaken, you began on your route down the hall, turning and starting a pace that certainly didn’t follow the “No running in the halls” rule.

“(Y/N)!”

You skidded to a halt, whirling to look back at Kirishima.

“Come see me again after class,” he said.

You nodded and set off, and as soon as your fingertips touched the door handle to your homeroom, the bell rang.

…

“So how’d your presentation go?”

You cringed, having hoped Kirishima wouldn’t bring it up so soon. Just as he’d asked, you met up with him once you were done with your final class of the day. He was with you now, walking back to the dorm buildings. “Meh, it could have been better,” you grumbled. “I don’t think it was any good.”

He tilted his head, his hair a little messy after afternoon hero training. “Why’s that?”

You looked down at your feet as they moved over the sidewalk. “I froze up a couple of times and talked really fast. And everyone was watching me and they looked so bored.”

He thought for a moment. “Well, in all fairness to them, it is just a school presentation. What was it on again?”

You paused, then finally let out a small laugh. “Quirk regulations in the twentieth century. Okay, you’re right, I wouldn’t be too thrilled to have to sit through that either.”

Kirishima put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in towards him. “I’m proud of you, though, you know that right? You did something you were scared to do! That’s totally manly!”

Your lips scrunched in a nervous half-smile, turning to hide your face. “It’s nothing like what you do. Facing villains and stuff.”

“Maybe the two are a little different,” he assented, “but I am still proud of you. You’re so awesome, giving a presentation like that even after . . . that happened.”

You shrugged. “Thanks again for being there for me.”

“No problem.”

“Were you late because of me?”

He hesitated for a second. “Nnnnnooooo.”

“Did Aizawa-sensei yell at you again?”

“Maybe. Well, it’s not exactly ‘yelling’, it’s more ‘stern disappointment��.”

You chuckled. “Sorry.”

“I had good reason,” he shrugged. “And I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Thanks for telling me what to do during one of your attacks, I would have probably been lost.”

“Of course.” You reached for his hand and entwined your fingers with his. “But I think you would have done okay, even if I hadn’t.”

He shrugged again. “It was still nice feeling a little prepared. It was a bit scary, though, not gonna lie. I thought I was going to make it worse somehow.”

“No, that was actually . . . perfect.”

He beamed at you, flashing his perfect, sharp teeth. “Glad I could help.”

You snorted a laugh, cupping his cheek in your palm. “My hero.”

He turned his face to kiss your hand, scarlet eyes glittering in the already setting sun. “You’re coming to my room now, right?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“I’m not done holding you for today. You left me right in the middle of a hug.”

“Oh no.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “I know. So now you have to come over to my room so we can finish that properly. And you deserve to relax after everything, now that it’s over.”

You leaned into his side, letting your joined hands swing out in front of you. “That sounds wonderful.”

He grinned at you again, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Only the best for my Pebble.”

----------------≪ °✾° ≫----------------

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicaegyo @hyunmin-1404 @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @sxngwoos-ash-box @xoxopam4

#anxiety tw #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled!#sugar fics

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lalaith217 · 4 years ago

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This is something a little different from what I usually post, but 2x13 is one of my favorite episodes and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this one. It's a sort of "She thinks, he thinks"-type of thing and it's pretty long, but I hope you enjoy.

Waking up

When Chloe wakes up, she feels his presence in the room before she even opens her eyes. It doesn't surprise her that he's here though, she's actually been waiting for him for a couple of hours now, wondering when he'd show up. The nurses told her that there had been "complications" and, ever the realist, she had known they had been downplaying the severity of her situation. She had seen what the professor's poison had done to the first victim and as soon as her nose had started bleeding, fear had overcome her. But now, she felt okay, still a little weak, but fine. The nap she had just woken up from had helped. And him sitting at her bedside helps too.

"Well. Look who's back. You didn't die after all. That makes one of us."

She opens her eyes and a smile plays on her lips. He's making even less sense than usual, but she doesn't really care right now. She is happy he's here, at her side, and that whatever he did to save her has worked. Does she really need to know what it was? There is time for that later, he'll probably tell her in excruciating detail anyway. And then, they'll talk about what she really wants to talk about right now. Them.

"I heard you saved me."

She puts her hand on his hands, both of them by her side as if he had been praying (which is ridiculous, she knows). She isn't sure, but, for a moment, she thinks he wants to pull back, looking down at both their hands. But he doesn't and his skin feels warm and for a brief moment, her mind flashes back to their dinner in his penthouse. She had taken his hand then, too, and he had looked at her almost the same way: a mix of surprise, disbelief and, most of all, warmth. This time however, a fourth feeling creeps in his eyes that she can't quite place. It is not a good feeling however.

"Well... much as I'd like to take all the credit, this one was a... a team effort."

She is a little surprised he doesn't want all the glory for this one, but a part of her tells her that this one hit way too close to home for him to be making jokes. She remembers his face when her nosebleed wouldn't stop and when she showed him the puncture mark that the professor's needle had left. He hadn't made any jokes then and when Lucifer stopped making comments and jokes, things were as serious as they got.

"You look heaven sent."

The last time he talked to her before things got worse, he looked more worried than she had ever seen him. He put up a front, fighting with Dan over bringing her to the hospital (which she explicitly asked him not to do), but she knew her partner. And she knew things were getting worse by the minute. When she had collapsed at that party, she had known that maybe her reluctance to go the hospital was not the best way of dealing with things. But when she saw Lucifer all worried in that hospital room, she knew things were going seriously wrong.

Still, she refused to give up and was more worried about what Trixie would think. As Lucifer always told the truth, she asked him if her being strapped to this hospital bed, tubes going in and coming out of her, would scare Trixie. He answered in his typical Lucifer fashion, making a quip, she thought, but they way he looked at her, she somehow knew he was not making a joke. Her heart skipped a beat, but the moment passed and Lucifer left. She didn't see him again, even when she was seizing, and she missed him. If things were as bad as they seemed, why wasn't he by her side? But she knew he was doing everything in his power to save her. And he had.

It had taken her a while to come to terms with her feelings for him. A few weeks, hell, even a few days ago, she had been sure that they were not going to work. They were just too different, she had thought, well, she still believes that they are very different people. But when he had sent her away and saved those college kids, she had realized that, despite that all being true, despite everything, the thought of him hurt, the thought of him not being around annoying her every day, had scared her more than she had have ever thought.

And then he had just walked down the steps as if nothing had happened, a smug smile on his handsome face, and she couldn't believe he didn't even have a scratch. But more importantly she had realized that she couldn't fight what she was feeling for him anymore. Nor did she want to. On instinct, she had hugged him tight, and, with hesitation, he had hugged her back. She suspected that Lucifer didn't have much experience with physical contact that wasn't sexual, so she didn't take his hesitation personally. How could she when the look in his eyes, full of wonder and adoration, told her everything that she needed to know in this moment. They were real, that's what she knew and damn, she wouldn't let stupid poison come between them.

"You know, this whole poisoning thing has just... really put a pause on everything that's been going on with you and I, so... should we just pick up where we left off?"

The words came out of her mouth before she could actually really think them through. She fears for a moment they might be too straightforward and he might get overwhelmed, but she is still holding his hand, his thumb drawing lazy circles on her skin and he is still looking at her with those deep brown eyes, and she just doesn't feel like holding back anymore. She has been fighting her feelings for quite some time now and she doesn't want to do it anymore.

"I think, right now, you just need to focus on feeling better, Detective."

He has let go of her hand and moves to stand up. She is surprised he is leaving right now, but she must look worse than she thought. And maybe he just needs to process. And as he said, he just wants her to get better and she can't really sleep while he's here, can she? Although... No, they have all the time in the world once she feels better. They'll figure everything out. Together.

"Would you have someone bring Trixie in?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

He moves away from her now and she feels that so much is left unsaid. This is clearly not the time though, at least for him. But she needs to tell him, one more time, in her way, that she wants this, that she wants him. Ever since they kissed on the beach she has been struggling to tell him, in her own dorky way, how she wants this, how she wants him.

"And we'll talk. We'll talk later, yeah?"

He doesn't answer. His mouth opens, but words don't come out. She wonders why he's not really responding to her question, but maybe he just needs time to process. She still needs time to process and she is much, much better with the "touchy-feely stuff" than him. Not that that is any kind of challenge. She remembers, how he reacted the first time she told him she could be vulnerable around him. What had been intended as a way of telling him how she felt, had resulted in him acting even stranger than usual, touching her back and asking all kinds of strange questions.

She looks after him when he leaves her hospital room. She is smiling and for the first time in a while she feels better. They'll talk and figure this out, she knows they will. No more denial, no more interruptions.

**********************************

When she finally opens her eyes, his heart does a somersault. Only a few hours ago he didn't even know if she would make it and now she is looking at him with those big grey-blue eyes of hers as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't been close to... He can't even think about it anymore. Can't think about what losing her would mean.

"Well. Look who's back. You didn't die after all. That makes one of us."

Watching her sleep, he had had time to think about what he had done. For her. Ever since he had left hell, he had been sure of one thing: he wouldn't go back to that place, not in a million years. And yet he had gone back. For her. And he would do it again. And again. But she would never know, could never know.

"I heard you saved me."

She has put her hand on both of his and, for a moment, he thinks about pulling away from her. It feels wrong for her to be touching him like this, when he knows everything she is feeling for him is a lie, a manipulation. But her hand on his feels soft and the way she looks at him now makes him feel all sorts of things. Things that he has never felt before. Things that made him go to hell for her. Literally.

"Well... much as I'd like to take all the credit, this one was a... a team effort."

Always the truth, that was what he tried to live by. Without Amenadiel, Linda, Maze and most of all his mom, he wouldn't have made it out of that place. The memory of Uriel haunts him, the way he plunged the knife into his gut, again and again. The guilt of killing his own brother kept him in his own personal hell. Only when his mom had come and reminded him of why he was down there, her, he had come to his senses.

"Chloe."

Hearing her name down there had snapped him out of his daze. The memory of her lying in that hospital bed, dying of some poison, and him being the only one who could save her, had brought him back to reality. He had to save her, his partner, his detective. There was nothing he wouldn't do to save her life.

When he had gone to her house to confront her about... nevermind... to talk to her, and saw her nose-bleed, he was terrified. They had seen what the poison had done to the student at Malibu State and the professor had just killed himself, with the recipe for the antidote in his head of course. Driving her to the next hospital was his first instinct, but when she refused to go and reminded him of how the hospital hadn't helped any of the other victims, he turned around and promised to do things her way. Sometimes she was as stubborn as she accused him of being and the annoying part was that she was usually right.

This time however, not even her refusal to give in could stop the effects of the poison on her. He was mildly surprised when she held onto his arm going down the stairs at that rich douchebag's party, usually refusing any assistance, even in high heels, but then she collapsed at the bottom of the stairs. His heart sank remembering her unresponsive in his arms, fragile, vulnerable. This could not be happening to her, not now, not ever. He could not lose her like this, not after she had kissed him like that at the beach, not after she made him feel... everything he felt.

"You know, this whole poisoning thing has just... really put a pause on everything that's been going on with you and I, so... should we just pick up where we left off?"

He hasn't even realized that his thumb has been drawing lazy circles on her skin, warm against his. Lost in thought the detective's suggestion brings him back to here and now, back to reality. A reality in which his father has put the detective into his path. A reality in which all that he has been feeling for her, all that she has been feeling for him, is a manipulation, a cruel trick his father has played on them.

"I think, right now, you just need to focus on feeling better, Detective."

He lets go of her hand and stands up, wanting to break the connection that pulls him closer to her. She didn't have a choice. She doesn't have a choice. Her feelings are not real, he reminds himself, and neither are they. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt and it doesn't mean he would rather stay here, with her, by her side, until she felt better. With her eyes always looking at her the way she does now, full of... emotions. Emotions that aren't real, but still emotions that she feels. And so does he.

"Would you have someone bring Trixie in?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

Right, the urchin. Probably worried about her mother almost as much as he was. A visit from her will distract her. He has almost reached the door of her hospital room now. He'll be finally able to breathe again without her looking at him with those eyes. He will be able to remember that all of this is nothing but a bloody manipulation and not real.

"And we'll talk. We'll talk later, yeah?"

His heart does that stupid thing again when it skips a beat. She sounds so sincere and hopeful, he almost wants to turn around and kiss her senseless. He wants to tell her what that moment at Pasadena State meant to him, when she hugged him, just like that. When he could see in her eyes that she felt the same way as him. When he felt, for a few blissful hours, that they could make this work. That he... that they could be happy. He had felt invincible.

But he doesn't turn around and he doesn't tell her. He leaves her room without looking back. He has to leave, get out of here now, and he doesn't just mean out of this hospital room. How can he stay around her, when every time she looks at him, he feels like this. Feels the betrayal and the pain and... that other feeling he now pushes down, way down, as he walks along the hospital hallway, straight to the exit.

#deckerstar #Lucifer #lucifer rewatch #lucifer x chloe #Lucifer 2x13 #lucifer fanfiction

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ao3theskyisblue · 4 years ago

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How to Woo a Texan

For @bellakitse who prompted this nearly a year ago and I had the audacity to put it off for this long 😅 Thank you for the title prompt, I hope you enjoy!

Summary:

He was suddenly brought back to the time when he was 5 years old, gazing at the white lilies in that antique vase every morning. How he hadn’t understood why his mother carried an aura so bright and yet so soft at the same time every time she looked at them.

Oh. There you are. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.

***

Or, snapshots through time of their relationship with a splash of feelings

Read on AO3

Ever since he could remember, there was always a fresh vase of white lilies that sat comfortably on the side of the kitchen counter. A 5-year-old Carlos, who was finally old enough to climb down the stairs himself (though his parents seemed to disagree) had always tried to wake up early to try and catch whoever it was that was responsible for them. They always magically appeared like clockwork every Monday morning at 7am.

Neatly trimmed, placed, and lasted a week before a brand-new batch would appear the next Monday.

He hadn’t wanted to think too much about them, but there were times that he caught his mother looking at the flowers with a soft look in her eyes. Sometimes she would brush her fingers along the petals, and other times she would lean down to delicately smell them, an ever-present smile gracing her lips.

He asked her about it once, the words coming out faster than his brain could tell him to stop.

“Mama, where those come from?” He asks one morning, lips puckered in a light pout when he realized he didn’t catch whoever it was that put them there again. His mother turned around from where she was washing some grapes to look in his direction, only to widen her eyes in horror.

“Carlitos! What have I told you about climbing onto places taller than you?” His mother scolded, rushing over to stop him from climbing onto the kitchen counter so he could reach the vase easier. She wrapped her arms gently around his waist, and he didn’t fight it when she sat him on a dining room chair.

“But I wanted to see flowers!” Carlos pointed towards the vase, and his mother turned her head to where he was looking, a slow smile spreading across her lips. She reached over to take out one of the flowers slowly, before displaying it in front of him.

“You mean the white lilies?” His mother asked, nodding at him when he looked at her questioningly. He took the flowers gently in his hands, running his fingers along the petals. They felt like any other flower he’s touched in the schoolyard, and they didn’t have a particularly distinct scent. At least, not that he could tell.

So, what was so special about these flowers?

He was about to ask, but his mother beat him to it. “Your dad is a little bit of a romantic. He wakes up early to get these from the farmer’s market every Monday morning.” And there it is again. That smile he always sees on his mother whenever his dad is mentioned, a smile that made her look so bright and happy.

There was something he didn’t understand though.

“What’s a ro…romand-romantic? Is it like…like Roman empire?” Carlos frowned, not quite remembering that book his teacher had been reading a few weeks ago but he was sure he heard ‘Roman’ somewhere. His mother shook her head, laughing fondly. He watched her get up from her kneeling position to sit on the dining chair beside him, her hands resting on his knees.

“You’re probably a little too young to understand this fully,” Carlos wrinkled his nose at that, because no, he wasn’t too “young,” he could recite the alphabet just fine forwards and backward and knew all his times tables.

His mother gave him a knowing look as if she knew what he was thinking. “Those were the flowers your father gave me when he first told me he loved me, and ever since then, he gets them every week- rain or shine. Just to see a smile on my face when I open the door for him.” His mother’s smile is radiant, and he sees her peeking at the flowers again affectionately, as if just looking at them rings in a new bout of happiness all over again.

“So…” Carlos trails off, a million thoughts circling his mind. “Love means flowers?” His mother chuckles at that, patting his leg fondly.

“It could be, but everyone expresses love differently.” His mother says, before reaching up a hand to place over his heart. He looks at her, at the warmth in her eyes as her next words resonate within his mind.

“Love can be big things, and it can be little things. It can be complicated, and it can be easy. You’ll find your own definition of it one day, and your dad and I will be with you every step of the way.”

***

“I can’t wait to sleep for a decade.” Carlos groaned, toeing off his shoes before stumbling across the entranceway towards the stairs, regretting not building an escalator instead when he had the chance. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and a bright laugh that never failed to make his heart skip a beat echoed in his ear.

“That’s a coma, sweetheart, not quite something I support. Experience, and all that.” TK mused, squeezing the skin just above his hip in admonishment and making him jolt. He turned a glare to his boyfriend, who was just looking at him innocently.

“You’re not funny,” Carlos grumbled as they slowly made their way up the stairs. Technically, TK was practically dragging him up the steps since he could hardly register where each step began and ended but minor details.

He didn’t need to look up to know that TK’s eyes were shining with amusement, lips curled in a wide smile with its edges softened by affection. “I’m actually very funny, you’re just grumpy when you’re tired. And on the verge of a fever.”

“Am not.” Carlos huffed petulantly, which probably just further proved TK’s point, but the latter wisely chose not to comment on it. They reached the last step and Carlos made a beeline for his bed, flopping down face-first into the soft sheets, legs dangling off the edge, humming appreciatively.

Soft and warm, perfect after a horrendously long shift with a persisting headache.

He didn’t bother moving when hands gently lifted the rest of his body to lie on the bed, the very same hands then reaching underneath him to try and undo his belt.

“You’re going to have to do all the work,” Carlos mumbled; eyes still shut tight. TK snorted, the hand stopping their administrations to swat his thigh lightly.

“I’m trying to make sure you sleep more comfortably. I’ve done my fair share of passing out in uniform and the morning after is never pretty.” TK has successfully removed his belt now, and Carlos half-heartedly lifted his hips to help him tug the pants down. “In fact, there was one particularly memorable moment where I almost stabbed myself in the leg with a belt buckle.”

Carlos was suddenly a little more awake than before, mustering the last bit of his strength to look at TK incredulously, turning over on his back. He ignored his head protesting loudly at the movement.

“I’m going to need a full version of that story when my brain can process more than 5 words a minute.”

TK shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’ll never hear it because you’ll forget this ever happened when you wake up.” He finished yanking his pants off and moved to fold them neatly in half over a hanger and placing it on the door hook. Carlos watched him through hooded eyes, absently going along with the motion of changing his shirt before shifting up to lay his head on the pillow.

“So, sleep-related injuries from passing out in work clothes. Another thing to cross off your bucket list.” Carlos gladly accepted the swat on his leg at that.

“One more word about this and I will go sleep on the couch,” TK warned jokingly, walking to the closet and pushing aside some of their clothing. They haven’t made it official yet, but Carlos already had a key – a permanent one, not a spare one that TK currently donned – prepared hidden in his gun safe waiting to be given, and the closet once only filled with his clothes began filling up with their clothes.

“Wha’re you doin’?” He asked blearily, already feeling himself pouting at the lack of warm boyfriend next to him.

“Looking for-ah, here it is.”

TK pulled out another blanket, the one that his mother had knitted for him when he was younger, and the only thing he could tolerate to be wrapped around whenever he was feeling under the weather.

Well, one of the only things.

He watched as TK gently tucked the blanket around him, seeing the familiar smile that lights up his face whenever he sees the design stitched on – a Gemini sign that stood out proudly among a sea of stars. He remembers mapping out imaginary constellations with his fingertips when he was younger, dreaming of what the stars would feel like underneath his touch – if the galaxy could be grasped within the palms of his hands.

“You mentioned the last time that your body temperature tends to go haywire when you aren’t feeling well, and that this was the only blanket you could tolerate,” TK says softly, and Carlos closes his eyes as the back of a cool hand felt his forehead.

“When did I say that?” Carlos mumbled, the haze of sleep threatening to take over, but he pushed himself to stay awake to hear the answer. TK shuffled some things around in the bed before sitting down, back against the headboard. Carlos didn’t hesitate to roll over towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking his face into his stomach, nuzzling into the soft warmth. He heard a fond chuckle, and smiled when featherlight fingers gently stroked his hair.

“I’ll tell you later. You should get some rest.” TK leaned down to kiss his forehead, the awkward angle not deterring him the slightest as he pressed another kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have to stay.” The words came out a little garbled, and Carlos wasn’t sure if TK had heard him at all. He didn’t want to make TK stay with him when he could literally be doing anything else other than sitting with him while he slept off the fever. His arm seemed to protest at that thought, though it could also be his exhaustion at play when he didn’t pull it away from its spot around TK’s mid-section.

There was a pause, before the blanket was tucked around him even tighter, an arm wrapping around him to pull him in further.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

A million butterflies danced to that, fluttering about inside him as he tried to tamper down his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t stop the lovesick smile even if he wanted to, tilting his head down to try and hide it.

“Plus, who’s going to wring cold towels and change them for you when you wake up? And make sure you actually eat something? Gotta put my paramedic privileges to work somehow.” Carlos grumbled incoherent words at that. Just because he was a living zombie when he was sick, and his whole body ached so badly he could sometimes hardly make it out of bed, let alone make anything to eat…

He’s been taking care of himself alone for years. And realistically, he knew he would be fine if left to his own devices.

“I’ll wait on you, hand and foot.” The words were light, teasing, reminding him of the heated debate they had the other night. There had been some history program playing in the background, and both of them had made varying sounds of contemplation when that particular phrase was said, sparking their usual bickering over the true meaning behind those seemingly innocent words.

This time, the words also carried a pleasantly heavy weight that settled in Carlos’ chest.

He could feel a stinging building up behind his closed eyes, his feelings always a tad bit of a mess when he was sick. They’ve already said the words, and the fact that they loved each other was ingrained in his mind and heart.

But there were also times like this, when Carlos wanted to grab the nearest jar and store the overwhelming love that was spilling out ardently. He wondered if the jar would feel as warm as he felt, what colour it would be, or if there would be enough space to fit it all.

It was times like these, that he would think,

Oh. There you are.

I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.

***

One of the things they’ve agreed upon in the early stages of their relationship, was that TK was not to be allowed anywhere near the kitchen or sharp cooking utensils unless there was appropriate adult supervision and two (working) fire extinguishers within five feet. There were one too many incidences where Carlos could practically feel his heart ripping out of his chest and plopping onto the floor, stripping decades off his life.

So, when he comes home to wondrous spices assaulting his senses, he briefly wonders if he accidentally opened the wrong door.

He had been pulling a double when one of his co-worker’s wife went into labour, and he had messaged TK earlier about not knowing when exactly he’d make it home. He had expected to come home to dim lights and silence, thinking his boyfriend would have already gone to bed but he was taken off guard at the lights shining brightly in the kitchen and the soft background music playing from his speakers.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind him alerted TK of his presence, and he was greeted with a smile that had his eyes crinkle happily at the sides.

“Hey, you.” His arms automatically spread apart to wrap around his boyfriend, laughing breathlessly at the way TK practically launched himself at him, trailing kisses up his neck.

“Missed me?” Carlos teased, leaning in for a few quick kisses before tucking his face in the crook of TK’s neck, his favourite spot to just breathe and take his boyfriend in after a long day. There was a heavy sigh in response, before he was met with a pair of eyes he never tired of losing himself in.

“It’s nothing new. I start missing you the second you leave our bed in the morning.” TK admits quietly, biting his lower lip nervously as if he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud. Carlos feels the familiar warmth spreading through him, and reaches up to gently pry his bottom lip free. He leans in to gently kiss the tip of his nose.

“Something smells amazing.” A welcome subject change, one that Carlos knows TK is grateful for, and he watches as his lips spread into a slow smile. Tugging on his hand, TK leads him towards the kitchen counter where various bowls of food were laid out.

“Everyone at the station has been giving me lessons. I thought Nancy was scary during training, it’s nothing compared to how she commands the kitchen. Even Paul was terrified but impressed.” TK was laughing as he continued on with a particularly hilarious incident that he repeatedly insisted was not his fault, but Carlos couldn’t help but be distracted by something scraping against his palm.

He looked down to see bandages covering the majority of TK’s fingers, looking like he had just left a particularly bad boxing match. All of his fingers had some sort of wrapping on it, most of them at the tips reaching just above the second knuckle, and a bulkier one on his right ring finger.

He looked back up to see TK smiling brightly without a care in the world, as if his hands weren’t completely covered with the scars of his labour. Not a single finger had been spared, and Carlos swallowed back the lump growing in his throat at how happy his boyfriend looked.

“Grace even swung by to indulge me in her family’s secret chilli recipe. We kind of went all out today in the kitchen, and everyone had enough to feed their entire family and their neighbours,” TK chuckled at the memory, picking up said bowl of chilli and holding it out to Carlos, a carefree grin painted across his lips. “I told them you were pulling a double, and how I wanted to take care of the cooking for tonight. They were more than happy to give me tips.”

Carlos stared at the bowl in front of him, then at TK’s radiant smile, blinking against the mist clouding up his vision. The whiteness of the bandages contrasted sharply against the brown wooden bowl, and he had an overwhelming urge to kiss each and every single one.

Some days, the love he feels for the man before him is overpowering, sparking life in every single motion and touch. Other days, it’s warm and light, just like the perfect summer breeze flowing by in passing, or the sight of the sunrise ascending over the horizon. The gentle waves splashing by his ankles in a soothing beat.

Today, he’s filled with an ache he can’t quite describe. It’s an ache that he wants engraved into his very bones – an ache that he wants to re-live for a long, long time.

He wondered if it was possible to be numbed by pure happiness, not knowing where the tingling feeling in his body started or ended.

Blinking a couple of times to anchor himself to the present, Carlos looked up to see TK’s worried gaze trained on him, the bowl of chilli sitting back on the kitchen counter.

Had he zoned off for too long?

“Judd, Mateo and Marjan sampled everything to make sure they were edible.” TK bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. His hands were twitching imperceptibly, as if he was itching to wring them together but remembered the bandages at the last second. The almost frantic look in his eyes made Carlos shake out of his stupor, and he reaches forward the cup the back of TK’s neck with one hand, running his thumb soothingly along his nape.

“Baby, this is…” Carlos trails off, the ache in him pulsating the more he looked at the culinary production around them.

He feels truly lucky to have TK in his life, and the rest of his found family with the 126. It startles him sometimes, how he’s been living fine on his own for twenty-six years before TK came into his life, but now that he’s gotten a taste of what it was like to have an extra splash of colour, he wants to continue painting the world with all the newfound hues.

“Extra? Over the top? Too much?” TK rambled, and Carlos shook his head, meeting his gaze straight-on.

“Amazing.”

He knows he sounds a little breathless, but TK seems to lighten at that, his nervous smiling relaxing. He silently obeys as TK gently guides him to one of the dining room chairs, arranging him around a little so that he was sitting, facing the gleamingly empty (for now) tableware.

“What would you like to indulge in first, my liege?” TK says playfully, hands kneading into Carlos’ shoulders to relieve the tension from a long day at work. He could feel himself grinning, reaching up a hand to cover one of TK’s, his thumb brushing against the bandages.

“You have been watching way too many historical dramas.” He mused, humming in approval as nimble fingers dug deeper into muscle, alleviating the residual tautness.

“There are only so many episodes of Grey’s I can handle watching without yelling at the medical inaccuracies. House is alright, but the way he treats patients would give him a lifetime of lawsuits he would never be able to climb out of. That in itself could be a whole series.” TK snorts, leaning back to plate some of the food. Carlos tipped his head back to watch him, already feeling his stomach yearning for everything his boyfriend was currently stashing onto his plate.

“I thought the point of watching those shows as a first responder is to enjoy the imperfections.” Carlos smiles fondly as TK lets out a quiet curse when a small piece of potato rolls off the plate, reaching out to grab a napkin to quickly wipe the spot on the counter.

“Pot meet kettle. You forget I watch Chicago PD with you, babe. I’m pretty sure I could recite the entirety of the Austin PD manual and 10-codes off the top of my head just from your heartfelt soliloquies every time they do anything.” TK shot him an unimpressed look, though the wide grin gave away his amusement.

He could feel himself pouting, not liking how true that was. “Yeah? Then what’s a 10-39 then?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, knowing he asked the wrong question when a predatory grin split across his boyfriend’s face.

“Something we both have abused in our professional duties,” TK smirked, walking over to place his plate in front of him before settling down at the seat across from him with his own plate, unconsciously linking their ankles together underneath the table.

“Uh, no. I haven’t. I think I would have noticed.” Carlos furrowed his eyebrows, growing more confused at TK’s quiet laughter.

“When I complained about traffic in Austin? And you very sweetly asked for a second round and offered to drive me to work with the light bars and sirens? Ring a bell?” TK wiggled his eyebrows, and Carlos makes a sound of protest.

“That doesn’t count!”

“You still offered. Which definitely counts.” TK chooses that moment to pick up a piece of lettuce to stuff in his mouth, effectively ending the conversation. Carlos rolls his eyes.

“That’s just cutting corners.” He huffs, stabbing into one of the potatoes purposefully, ignoring TK’s foot knocking against him. Conversation lulls for a while, and the more Carlos digs into the hearty meal before him, the more his skin tingles, kindled with warmth.

He reaches forward to squeeze TK’s hand, who in turn looks up at him curiously.

“Thank you. For all of this. It’s… I really appreciate it.” Carlos stutters, the overwhelming wave of emotion sweeping over him again as TK simply gives him that smile. The one smile that always seemed to be reserved for him – a smile he felt privileged to witness, and the smile he wanted to see every day for the rest of their lives.

“I can’t take all the credit,” TK’s smile is fond, no doubt remembering all the antics the entirety of the 126 were subject to earlier that day. “It was a team effort – I’m just glad it turned out alright with minor mishaps.” There was a sheepish look on his face, and Carlos notices how he’s picking at the heavier bandage on his right ring finger. He reaches across the table to take the hand gently in his, lifting it up to tenderly press his lips against it while their gazes were still locked on each other. There was a hint of pink that coloured TK’s cheeks at the gesture, making him smile against the hand still pressed to his lips.

“Minor mishaps, huh?” He remarks absently, but doesn’t push any further. TK curls his hand tighter to squeeze his before pulling back slowly.

“I added some more things to our Netflix queue. Want to call it a night and continue to preach about inaccuracies in medical and police dramas with me?” TK tilts his head invitingly, his eyes shining with mirth, and Carlos just wants everything with him.

“I’ll get the popcorn.”

***

Leave work at the door.

That’s what his father had always done when he was growing up. All talk of casework, of work stress, were almost always shed like a layer of skin when he came home, a wide smile present on his lips as he lifted him up into a hug and gave his unruly curls a fond ruffle.

Which was why he was currently still at the station at 10:34pm, finishing up the unexpected paperwork that couldn’t wait when they had been called in to a tip just before his shift ended.

Sighing in both exhaustion and frustration, Carlos glared at the offending words in front of him, his pen tapping restlessly against the table as he chewed on his lower lip.

He had promised his little boy that he would make it home tonight to finally watch the new Disney movie together as a family, maybe even build a pillow fort. Now, that promise felt like a scar etched upon his heart bleeding through his every thought as he tried to focus on the papers in front of him.

Their schedules would start being asynchronous again tomorrow, and although it made it easier so that one of them could always be with their son when the other was on a shift, Carlos missed his husband. He missed coming home to more than just a passing kiss as the other left for their shift, he missed going to bed with a warm body to wrap around him, he missed seeing that smile he’s loved more and more every single day for the past seven years for longer than five seconds.

They tried to have at least one evening a week to just be husbands, to spend time with their son together as a unit, but the case he had been working on for months finally had a breakthrough and they hadn’t gotten proper family time for close to a month.

It was times like these that he didn’t get the usual satisfaction of seeing the nameplate Detective Carlos Strand-Reyes on his desk.

“That’s a very impressive scowl you have going on there, detective.”

Carlos almost falls out of his spinning chair at the amused voice speaking lowly in his ear and spun around abruptly to see TK grinning at him, their three-year-old son Micah in his arms giggling happily.

“Papa!” Micah’s ecstatic voice echoes through the almost-empty precinct, and Carlos immediately catches him in his arms when his son practically launches himself into them.

“Micah! TK, what –” Carlos was a little lost for words, but tampers down the confusion when Micah squishes his cheeks between his tiny hands, grinning broadly. He was sure if his partner hadn’t left to grab them another coffee, she would be taking pictures to last her a lifetime.

“Have gift!” Micah declares proudly, his legs shuffling excitedly as he sat down more comfortably in his lap, and Carlos tips his head up for a quick kiss with his husband before looking at TK questioningly.

“Our son didn’t like how you would be spending movie night alone doing work,” Carlos couldn’t help a laugh at TK’s terrible impression of their son. “So, we decided that since you couldn’t come to us, we would bring family to you.” TK’s expression softened at the end, and Carlos could see how his eyes were taking him in fully, his own eyes doing the same.

He notices his partner arriving back to the precinct then, pausing in the doorway of their shared office. Her eyes lit up with understanding, sending him a quick wink before mouthing out a ‘more for me,’ and gestured to the two coffee cups in her hands. She lifted one of the cups as if in cheers, and quietly slinked away to take a break elsewhere.

Carlos mentally noted to send her a gift basket sometime.

“But you were looking forward to watching the movie.” Carlos looks at his son, and Micah frowned up at him, looking at him like he had suddenly grown two heads.

“Moo’ night is moo’ night ‘cause we all there. Papa, daddy, me. Two…two…” Micah furrowed his eyebrows as he tries to remember the word and TK gently cuts in.

“Together, sweetheart.”

“Together!” Micah repeats louder, and Carlos kind of wants to cry.

TK lifts up a plastic bag between them, and he knows exactly what’s in there when Micah’s eyes light up mischievously.

“Really, Strand?” Carlos deadpans, a smile twitching on his lips at TK’s indignant pout. “A sugar rush near midnight?”

“It’s Strand-Reyes. I didn’t marry you in the pouring rain with a broken foot just for you to neglect the second half of my name. And some occasions require processed sugar no matter what time it is.” TK says softly, and Carlos is momentarily taken back to that memorable day five years ago, where everything that could have gone wrong actually did go wrong, as if testing their brush with fate.

But in the end, love won. Which meant come hell or high water, they would be standing on that altar, no matter how many hours they had to stay at the hospital afterward in lieu of their planned honeymoon.

When he looks up into TK’s eyes, he could tell his husband had been thinking the same thing, and they shared a private smile.

“It’s chocolate.” TK grins, wiggling the bag enticingly as if his favourite flavour would make him cave, when he in fact had already caved a long, long, time ago.

“What a coincidence. I have French vanilla.” Carlos smiles as TK looks at him knowingly. He had let it slip once that he always kept a batch of French vanilla ice cream, TK’s favourite, in his private minifridge in the office ever since that night a couple of weeks into his new detective role when TK had come into the precinct soaked to the bone and on the verge of tears.

The news was never kind, and his fiancé had to find out through the grapevine that there had been a nasty altercation with the case he had been assigned to and immediately ran out of their house to search for him when he didn’t answer his cell phone. It was somehow the only thing they had at the precinct that day, and TK had stayed beside him for the rest of his shift, occasionally taking bites of the ice cream and cuddling close.

Now, the particular flavour of ice cream served more as both of their comfort food whenever they wanted to feel each other’s presence during a long shift, and sometimes just seeing the familiar packaging immerses him in comfort.

“Papa get break?” Micah’s question pulls him out of his thoughts, and he kisses the top of their son’s curls, smiling affectionately.

“It’s a good thing I have spoons, then.” Carlos pulls out the drawer meant for miscellaneous things, and takes out three plastic spoons from their packaging. He also reaches into the fridge to take out the container of ice cream, with TK doing the same with the two chocolate flavoured ones in the plastic bag. His husband passes one container to each of them, graciously accepting the one in Carlos’ hands extended to him before hopping on to sit on his desk.

“Papa happy?” Micah asked between spoonfuls, and Carlos hugs him tighter against him, leaning his cheek against the back of his head. He looks up at TK who’s watching them fondly, and he has a sudden urge to hug them tightly and never let go. He leaves that for when they all finish their midnight treats, instead reaching out to squeeze TK’s leg and kiss his son’s cheek, feeling lighter than air.

“I’m always happy when I’m with the two of you.”

***

Years of laughter, hours of tears. Days of contemplation, millions of joyous occasions.

And you were in every single one of them.

“We are getting too old for this.”

TK makes a sound of disbelief, turning to shoot him a glare that’s just as piercing as they had been in their younger days, his green eyes sparkling with life.

“Says you, Mr. I’m-seventy-four-but-can-still-lift-double-your-weight. Age shaming will not be a thing that gets between us.” TK scowls, and Carlos laughs at the way the wrinkles that came with age and years of laughter and joy deepened. His husband’s hair was now almost completely grey, matching his own, and yet…

Tyler Kennedy Strand-Reyes was just as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on him.

“My hips are already protesting, and you haven’t even asked me to stand yet.” Carlos mused, laughing as TK extended his hand to him then, looking down at him in exasperation. The dim light from the fireplace lit up his husband’s features in flashes of brief memoirs, with each passing of the flame’s light echoing a different time in their life.

“And when have you ever said ‘no’ to me?” TK raises an eyebrow, his fingers wiggling in front of him, and Carlos touches the palms of their hands together, admiring how well they fit together, even after all these years.

“Plenty of times,” Carlos responds, even as he gets up all the same. Like two pieces of matching puzzles, they fit together effortlessly. The lulling chords to a song whose name was just at the tip of his tongue was playing softly in the background.

“And your hips move just fine,” TK murmurs in his ear teasingly, and Carlos could feel the wide smile against his neck as he laughs.

They sway together, both of them lost in their own worlds. Carlos closes his eyes as he latches on to this moment just like all of their many others through the time they’ve spent together.

“Feeling wooed yet, babe?” Carlos couldn’t hold back a shiver at the warm current of air brushing past his ear, squeezing TK’s hip at the knowing smile pressed against his shoulder. It never ceases to amaze him how far they’ve come since the beginning, never once letting go of each other’s hands, facing anything life threw at them as a team.

All these years, and Carlos still remembered the night that forever altered their futures crystal clear. Two imperfect souls, meeting in the middle. Willing to share each other’s worlds, learn each other’s purpose, and choosing to love through it all.

Shifting back slightly so that he could look into TK’s eyes, the beautiful green orbs that never failed to be filled to the brim with adoration since that night under the stars, Carlos smiles.

“TK, baby,” He reaches up a hand, cupping his husband’s cheek and feeling his heart stutter when he didn’t hesitate to lean into his hold. Tilting his head to gently press their foreheads together, Carlos revels in the tender warmth of their bubble of intimacy.

It’s with shining eyes as he continues.

“You’ve been wooing me our entire lives.”

#Tarlos #Tarlos fic #Fluff #A love through the years #Prompt fill #bellakitse

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delu-jean · 4 years ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Jean x fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 3.1k words

Ⅰ> Ⅲ

‘What is this?...it feels so...warm…’ your eyes fluttered as you felt a presence. The comfort of that heat held you while laying limp. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, but even so, it felt like it was.

Before you could say anything else, the warmth was now gone. Confused, you tried moving your body, but instead, it froze. With no type of heat, your body started to ice. Instead of struggling, you accepted it...something you wish you didn’t end up doing.

Your eyes opened to then see Bertholdt’s head. He was carrying you elsewhere as you watched people surround you. It seemed as if both him, and the other two were in a rush to get somewhere, however, you decided not to question and trusted them instead.

What felt like two seconds, was apparently two hours. You woke up to see the three in front of you. Confused by what had just happened, Reiner sighed and decided to explain.

“We stole from some merchants earlier, and since you were sleeping, ‘long legs’ needed to carry you.”

“I wasn’t much help though. I probably should have just let Reiner grab you.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a little heavy so-”

“No, you’re not. I’m just, not as strong. But don’t apologize, you seemed like you needed the rest. So I’m glad you got some.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are we now?”

“Apparently, this is ‘Wall Rose,’ the second interior. When it comes to this place, I’m not quite sure when it comes to specifics. But what matters is that we have food, we’re together, and we make up a plan.”

Before Reiner could speak any further, he sat there in silence. It looked like he had something on his mind, along with the other two. You decided to avert your gaze elsewhere, to then see that brunette yet again.

You decided to smile at the boy which seemed to confuse him. Even though he had such a puzzled look, your attention shifted after hearing Reiner clear his throat.

“Okay, so I have a plan-”

` “Should we even listen to your plan? Look where all of your plans have gotten us,” Annie barked with an annoyed tone.

Reiner scoffed and came back with: “Then I’m assuming you have a better one? Or rather, if you even have one.”

“Let’s not fight…” Bertholdt said while holding back Reiner

“Yeah, let’s not.”

“You’re right. Well anyways, my idea is for us to join the “Scouts.” Apparently, they were the people with that odd gear. I think we’ll have a good opportunity to learn what we’re up against, build thought out strategies, and overall, get a step closer to retrieving the Founding Titan.”

“It may not sound like much of a step, but at least it’s something. And Y/n, don’t worry. I know you may not have any titan powers, but we’ll do our best to keep you safe. You’re one of our friends after all.”

Although you weren’t sure about the plan, you decided to have faith in Reiner. It’s better believing you had one chance versus none. You didn’t worry too much though. Even if you weren’t the “best” when it came to fighting, it’s not like you had no capability whatsoever.

You were a quick learner, and a perfectionist. In Marely, although you had prepared for wars, you were in the military for too little (meaning you never had the chance to go to an actual war). Because of this, you didn’t really have any motivation to build your skills, but knowing that you would need them to help you survive, sparked your utmost concentration. You could go the distance, you knew that for a fact. And the least you could do was protect yourself, to get out of their way at least.

“Okay then it’s settled. The next thing we need to do is join the scouts.”

Time Skip

You spent the next couple of years training with Annie and Reiner. Bertholdt tried helping every now and then, but decided it would be best if he focused on his skill (since he thought he was lacking).

They taught you the most they could with combat, and handling blades. Since they couldn’t get their hands on actual ODM gear, they instead substituted with long sticks. A bit heavier than the blades themself, but beneficial.

“Y/n, camp starts in a couple days. The guys and girls will be in separate quarters, but if you ever need one of us, be sure to come to our bunker. We’ll show you where we are after getting assigned.”

“Sounds good.”

‘Wow...after all this time, I guess the journey begins.’

First Day Of Camp

“Annie, Annie where did you go?” you whispered feeling frustrated.

It was orientation day and she was nowhere to be found. The boys didn’t seem to know where she was either, and well...you didn’t want her to be alone. So you decided to move your legs and do something. Unfortunately in the process, you bumped into someone, which caused them to collide into someone else.

“OWW!! WATCH IT WILL YOU!!”

“S-sorry,” the black haired freckled fella said.

The person in front seemed very upset. You heard him say something under his breath, but didn’t ask what. He stood in such a way which agitated you. It was just a mistake, what was his problem? You caught a glimpse of his back side. Somewhat lanky, short light brown hair, along with an undercut? Yeah, you had to keep that look in mind while here.

After pushing that thought away, you tapped on the other person’s shoulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that. I was trying to look for someone, but ended up causing trouble for you.”

“It’s okay...I think he’s just a little roughed up because of the commander. He wasn’t exactly nice to either of us. I’m just glad that segment is over if anything.”

“Haha speaking of the commander, it looks like potato girl isn’t on his good list.”

“Yeah..but she’ll be fine. Aww but lucky, wish I got a potato in,” you both giggled at his statement, to then see the commander eye you both, which made the two of you stop immediately.

‘But speaking of the commander, I remember...ah I don’t remember his name but, that boy mentioned something about joining the interior. Maybe I should bring it up to Reiner, see what he thinks about it,’ you thought to yourself.

Later Into The Evening

The two boys and you had discussed things over dinner. Annie decided to sit by herself, saying she needed some time alone. You respected that and sat with the boys eating whatever was served.

Bertholdt seemed a little worn out, but being both concerned for you, and uncomfortable (because of the silence), he decided to ask you questions. Things such as: “How are you guys?,``'' “Did training go well for you Y/n?,” “Learn anything new?”

Your answers were quick and short. It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to Bertholdt, rather, your attention was drawn somewhere else. A fight started to break out, and you couldn’t help but bud in. Playing judge wasn’t one of your specialties, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t incapable of doing so.

While listening in, you started inferring things. For one, the guy who started the fight was a jerk. Making fun of the other kid and bringing the events of Shiganshina into it, that wasn’t very nice. But then at the sametime, that second boy made it hard for you to feel empathetic.

He just seemed so brash and hot tempered. It looked like he wanted to start a fight by running his mouth off. Both seemed to be at fault in their own ways. Regardless, at this point, the volume was too grand for you not to look. So you did.

Although you couldn’t see them both very well, the boy in the back looked like that brunette...but you weren’t sure. You tried getting a better view by standing up and watching the two bicker. Reiner stopped you, thinking you wanted to involve yourself in the conflict.

“Y/n, it’s none of our business. Plus, remember who the enemy is…” you halted to then see the two “resolve” their differences.

You were glad that it was over, but then saw another person had arisen. A girl who looked all too familiar walked past the other boy. You then heard him mumble a couple things here and there, which made you giggle a tad.

“It’s just, I’ve never seen such pretty black hair,” a blush spread on his cheeks.

“Thanks,” she said bluntly.

She then walked out following the other person. To your “surprise,” so does the undercut, and that being the case, you decide to walk out and listen in. You finished dinner anyways and what better way to kill time. There was silence for a bit, but then you heard someone exclaim:

“HEY, WHAT DID YOU WIPE ON ME!?”

“Nothing...just my trust.”

You laughed a little at the situation. He was probably upset that a cute girl ended up cruising with some guy he had just quarreled with. You thought about it, and to be honest, you would’ve been pissed as well. You started to realise the resemblance you had with some of the Eldians here, this being an example.

Because of that, you decided to let down your guard for once (thinking of it as a “special occasion”). You opened the door once you heard the other person leave, and then stepped outside. You stood behind him and heard the words:

“What do you want?-”

“Nothing, just someone to talk to I guess.”

“I-I’m sorry about that,” he straightened himself.

“I thought you were one of my buddies. I didn’t realise you were a gi-...someone else.”

“Well, now you do,” you chuckled and then stared straight at him.

“Wait a second, you’re that guy from earlier. Who yelled at the freckled boy. Know this, it wasn’t his fault he crashed into you. It was mine. I apologize for that.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’m over it anyways. Plus, mistakes are mistakes.”

“Mhm, they most definitely are. Speaking of which, you definitely made one earlier. You shouldn’t have mentioned Shiganshina in such a brash manner. You know, the girl you like is from there. So try to be more sensitive regarding the matter.”

“Wait, how do you know?”

“I was...there.”

“I also interacted with her…” this sparked an idea in your head.

Since you wanted something to entertain you, know more about Eldians, and maybe even befriend one, what better experiment than this? It helps you kill time, and you could possibly help someone out.

“She doesn’t mind me. You know, that being the case, and knowing you like her...I could help you out. Get you into her good books and what not.”

‘Hopefully I can get closer to her in general. She seems like an interesting person.’

He seemed a little reluctant, and because of that, you decided to say:

“That brunette’s already in the lead as of right now. With my help, you could possibly catch up, or even better...surpass him,” you now had a cheeky grin plastered on your face.

“Ugh, I guess I really don’t have a choice,” his ego just wouldn’t let him.

You grabbed his hand and shook it.

“You better not wipe off this trust. You can put your faith in me, so don’t worry too much, okay?”

He sighed and you beamed. Before you could ask/say anything else, you then felt Bertholdt grasp your other hand, tugging it. You let go of the person’s hand, and walked towards Bertholdt.

“Let’s get going Y/n,” you nodded in agreement following the other two.

“Just what are you planning?” Reiner asked playfully.

“Ohohoho, you shall see!”

“I’m betting on Eren,” Bertholdt exclaimed.

“Eren, who’s that?” They both laughed and then looked at you.

“Just where was your head today? Ahh, Eren in the brunette, and Jean, the boy you shook hands with.”

“Jean...I like that.”

Jean POV

‘Y/n?...That's a cute name. Her hand was so small compared to mine. Was that her boyfriend? OR were THEY her boyfriends!? No, stop Jean. You’re thinking like a maniac. But thank goodness she’s going to help me.’

Time Skip (Still In Jean pov)

I walked to the training grounds, and watched as Y/n and Mikasa conversed. Seeing them talk made me nervous (not knowing about what was being said). Regardless, I tried to keep my cool and sat on a rock, trying to flex my better angels to Mikasa.

I’m really glad Y/n decided to talk with me that night. Although I DO HAVE MANY FRIENDS (I’m not lonely for goodness sake), having her there comforted me. We were able to talk about almost anything. She clarified Bertholdt was like her older brother, along with Reiner (no two timing fiasco). I got to know her interests and vice versa.

She helped me out with dual wielding, and I, ODM gear (she was surprisingly flimsy with it). Spending time with her was interesting. Although we talk for what seems like hours, I’m not dumb. I’m smart enough to know that she had built some type of boundary. Of course everyone had their secrets, but she always seemed so reluctant, hesitant, and well...one edge. Maybe it has to do with Shiganshina, she was a survivor afterall?...well I’m assuming. I still have more to learn and hopefully, she’ll give me that chance.

I continued to watch the two converse. Changing my approach, I decided to move in a little closer. That way, I could hear a bit about what was going on. I sighed to then see Annie block me (surprisingly).

“I see you’re paying close attention to Y/n. Or is it that black haired wench you’re oozing over?” I jumped a bit to see Y/n approach.

“This twerp was spying on you. Be careful Y/n-”

“Spying? OOOOOOoooo,” Sasha teased and skidded towards us (along with Connie).

“Hehe, your boyfriend was admiring the view,” Connie winked as I glared at him.

“HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND. But maybe Mikasa’s to be~”

“Wait, really?” I questioned as she winked at me.

“Hmmm, oh I see. Y/n wants Jean to get with Mikasa, so that she can get with Jaegar. Ehhhh, a strategist in the making! I like it,” Connie snorted as Annie tails in.

“That would explain why you stare at him so often. I’m not going to lie, I do find that kind of weird.”

“WHAT!!” I shrieked a little louder than expected.

“IT’s nOt LikE thAt! I can guarantee you, it’s for different purposes!! I SWEAR!”

I was honestly hoping that was the case. Y/n and Eren? Like crap. He’s so full of himself, “killing all of the titans?” Yeah right. Y/n deserves someone so much better than that...someone who will put their pride to the side, and get to know her on the same level. She’s a great person. Someone who empathizes easily, a very well spoken lady, understands the feelings of others, and truly cherishes those she loves.

‘No, stop it. You shouldn’t be thinking about that. I like Mikasa...let’s think about her instead,’ As long as she doesn’t get with someone like him/Eren himself, things should be fine...right?

“*sigh*, okay okay, whatever you say.” I then walked off as the other two raced to my direction.

Original POV

You weren’t going to lie but, Jean probably despised the idea of you hanging out with Eren. Even if you weren’t doing it alone (because Armin and Mikasa were there), it still pissed him off. You couldn’t help it though. You wanted, no, needed to understand Eren’s character more. Along with the other two.

Something about those three made you...nervous. Observing them helped you understand these Eldians from a deeper standpoint. Yes talking with Jean was lovely, but he seemed to be missing a factor that these three (and just about everyone else) had. That was fear. You knew Jean was one of the luckier ones. He had a family, warm bed, and everything anyone could ask for.

Whereas the rest didn’t grow up with such things, or, had horrendous experiences. Of course you had somewhat of a good child, though it wasn’t exactly rainbows. But that was beside the point. Being with them taught you just how determined they were when trying to fight the titans. Seeing how each had resentment for what they had done, terrified you. Eren’s anger scared you the most though. That burning fire in the brim of his eyes, was one no one could put out. That being the case, you’d rather be on the safe side of that flame, and not the opposing. For now at least.

That’s why you tried your best to understand him. Along with Mikasa, and Armin. You three were close enough to converse, but that was about it. You made sure to keep your guard up. Reminding yourself that their hate against their enemy, would one day also be yours. That ultimately, Marely was against them and you being from there...meant you were too….

Even though these thoughts held you back, you also had moments where you were able to let through (which gave you a little hope in these people). You and Mikasa were able to interact more. She didn’t seem bothered, nor unbothered by you trying to get to know her better. You brought up Jean a couple of times, hoping things would go well. She seemed somewhat open (yet opposed) to the idea of them being friends.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if things were going the way you had promised, but progress was progress. Yet at the same time, did you really want things to go the way they were planned?-

‘Stop that,’ you sighed at your childish thinking. Of course you wanted things to go according to plan.

You decided to run and catch up with the others. Jean patted your head with a discouraged look on his face. You raised an eyebrow wondering as to why, but kept quiet.

“You better have different intentions...Eren is no good-”

“And you are?” he paused and shot you a look you’ve never seen before.

“Whaaat? I’m just joking,” you remarked as he awkwardly patted his nape.

“Haha yeah, of course you are,” you both laugh to then see Bertholdt scurry over. He seemed anxious, so anxious to the point you knew you needed to check on him. You quickly ran the other direction and approached Bertholdt.

“Y/n...damn, I shouldn’t...no...I really shouldn’t be doing this, but you need to trust me.”

“Trust you?-”

“Whatever you do, don’t get killed. Stay alive, and alert. Stick with Jean, Eren, Mikasa. Anyone for the matter...okay?”

“Bertholdt, what’s going on?-”

“Just promise me, okay?”

“Okay...I will.”

Chapter three will be out soon!!

Ⅰ> Ⅲ

#jean x reader #jean kirschstein #jean #kirschtein #jean x you #jean x y/n #jean kirschtein x you #jean angst #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x you #attack one titan x reader #jean x female reader #series #horse boy #chapter two #aot x y/n

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unsettlingconclusions · 4 years ago

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Conversation over pizza

Pairing: Ayna Seth x F!MC (Kennedy) Genre: Fluff Rating: T Word Count: 3k+ Notes: I got inspired by @samanthadalton and @iamsimpforpoppy talking about pizza and food one day. I know this might not be a pairing of your particular interest, but I tagged you to show my appreciation for the inspiration (if you’d like me to remove it, please just let me know!). Story is not reviewed because if I stop to review I’d never post anything. Enjoy.

“So, I decided what we can do as your introduction to fine cuisine. Pizza!”

The sound of Ayna’s excitement came all the way from the kitchen to find Kennedy comfortably nestled against the cushions in Ayna’s couch. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and for once Ayna wasn’t swamped in deadlines or planning for classes, so they had been spending the past few hours curled up cuddling and watching cheesy romcoms. It was the perfect setting for peace and relaxation, and Kennedy would have voted to glue herself to the couch and to her girlfriend had it not been for the sound of grumbling stomachs. They were only human, afterall, and humans do need to eat.

“Pizza? Ayna, thank you for believing in me, but there’s no way I can get making pizza from scratch right.” Kennedy moved to the kitchen counter, voice a little less enthusiastic than her girlfriend’s.

But Ayna wasn’t to be deterred. “This one you can,” she replied, showcasing a package of frosted premade pizza dough. “Making it from scratch can be a challenge, I’ll admit. That’s why we’re gonna skip the make your own dough step.”

“But then it won’t be ‘fine cuisine’. It will just be like making a sandwich.”

“Ok, one, don’t talk like you even make sandwiches. And two, try to have some faith in me. Let’s make our own fresh tomato sauce. It makes a world of difference.”

It was a few weeks back when Ayna promised to teach Kennedy how to cook, starting with something easy, of course. This deal was brought by after a nice surprise romantic dinner Ayna had prepared for them in celebration of going public and finally being free to properly date.

“I thought you didn’t cook.”

“Usually I don’t, but I can make an exception if I feel the circumstances are special enough.”

“No, I mean, you said sometimes coffee is all you have.”

Ayna chuckles lightheartedly. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t cook, it means I unfortunately don’t have much time for it.”

“So, does that mean I’m special?” Kennedy can't help the fluttering of her heart and the wide grin from reaching her face at the thought of Ayna dedicating so much to their date.

“You’re the most special of circumstances," resting her hands on Kennedy's shoulders, Ayna gently coaxes the younger woman towards the dinner table. "Now come, before the food gets cold. I hope you enjoy it.”

Kennedy was surprised by how rich and flavorful it all tasted, and as the thick and sweet aroma filling the air lured her into a deep sense of comfort, she was amazed to keep discovering all these layers to her girlfriend.

She learned that cooking was soothing for Ayna, as it reminded the woman of her daadi, who used to say there could be no warmth of heart with an empty stomach. Kennedy was wooed through and through that night, and if cooking was an activity Ayna enjoyed, she wanted to be able to enjoy it with her. But the truth was she couldn't cook if her life dependend on it, so by the end of the night she made Ayna agree to teach her something someday.

"Why pizza? I thought we were going for something Indian."

"You're the one who said you wanted to start easy. Let's hold on the spices for now."

"Fine, I'll trust you. Teach me like I'm one of your French girls." Kennedy grinned, doing as close to a Kate Winslet impersonation as she managed.

"Preferably not naked, though," Ayna teased as she approached Kennedy with an apron, motioning for Kennedy to pass her head through it. "Tomato sauce sometimes gets a little explosive and I don't want you to get burned", she continued as she circled around Kennedy to fasten the straps behind her back.

As expected, Ayna was no less of a teacher in the kitchen than she was in the classroom. She calmly explained everything they were doing and why, from why they needed to boil water to peel off and seed the tomatoes, to how to properly cut them and remove their stem and core to make the process easier.

“We’ll just cook them for little while so the skin comes off easier.”

Once the tomatoes had been set in the boiling water, they moved onto all the other steps. "No respectable sauce lacks onion," Ayna explained, "but chopping them can be tricky. If you get too uncomfortable, tell me and I can do it by myself."

"No way, I'm having the full experience." Kennedy replied, although her eyes did make her almost regret her choice.

When the tomatoes cooked to the right point and they shocked them in iced water, Kennedy was almost amazed by how easily the skin came off.

“Nice trick,” she remarked, as she quickly took care of her task.

“Yeah it is. And it works with potatoes too.”

“You mean I don’t have to spend an hour peeling potatoes?”

“You mean you have peeled potatoes before?” Ayna raised her eyebrows in genuine curiosity.

“Mom tried taking cooking classes once and got me into it too. It didn’t go very well,” Kennedy grinned sheepishly.

“And how is it going now?”

“A lot better. It turns out I just had the wrong teacher,” this time Kennedy offered Ayna a wink and a huge smile, being then rewarded with a peck on the lips.

“Here, let’s sievel the seeds and dice them.”

When it came to dicing the tomatoes, Kennedy felt like she finally could use a more hands-on approach to compensate the fact she was losing some precious cuddling time, so she made sure Ayna would notice she was doing it the wrong way.

“You’re cutting them too big.”

"Oh no, silly me. Can you come over here and show me how to do it? I might do it better if you guide my hand,” Kennedy stated, feigning as much innocence as she could.

"You’re just baiting me."

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

Ayna came closer from behind and wrapped her arms around Kennedy, resting her hands atop the younger woman’s, guiding her movements gently. Kennedy took advantage of the moment as she could, leaning back and sinking further into Ayna’s embrace. She would definitely sign up for more cooking sessions if it involved this kind of teaching.

After many demonstrations more than it was actually necessary, Ayna rested her hands on Kennedy’s waist and moved her head to the side so her lips could softly brush against Kennedy’s ear, “Do you think you can get it right now?” She whispered.

“Y-yeah, I think,” Kennedy stuttered, tilting her head to the side to expose more of her neck.

Ayna nuzzled her nose into Kennedy’s neck for a few seconds before saying “Good, let’s finish this.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Try hungry.”

With the ingredients now all set to go, they moved the chopped onions to a pot and let them fry for a little while. As Kennedy stirs the pot to keep the onions from burning, the sound of them sizzling mixed with its heavenly smell set such a mood of domesticity, Kennedy felt a weird sense of nostalgia for something she never really had.

“Hey, thank you for teaching me. This feels nice.”

“Of course,” Ayna smiled broadly, brushing a loose lock of Kennedy’s hair behind her ear fondly, because the truth was there was little Kennedy could ask of her that she wouldn’t give. “Here comes the tomatoes.”

A few minutes of simmering later and the sauce was ready and good to go, its bright red color contrasting with the paleness of the dough.

With Ayna’s guidance, Kennedy assembled the pizza with their homemade sauce, lots of cheese (the true secret was to use good cheese, Ayna had said) and fresh basil leaves for extra flavor, and they set it to the oven. All they had to do now was wait.

“Have you thought about what you’re gonna do now?” Ayna asked as she setted up the oven timer.

“Hmm, wait for it to bake so we can eat?”

“I mean about Vancross. You came to help your mom with the Summit, didn’t you? To make allies?” She clarified, moving to help Kennedy out of her apron and taking her own off as well.

“Not just that. I came to study really.”

Once both were free of their aprons, Ayna started going about the kitchen, storing back everything they haven’t used. “Didn’t you tell me once you weren’t sure if going into politics was really what you wanted?”

“You remember that?” Kennedy asked surprised, the memory kind of distant. It was the first time they talked outside of the classroom.

“I remember everything about you.”

“Sappy.” It really was and Kennedy wouldn’t not remark on it, but on the inside she was very much melting. Ayna only smiled in return and raised her eyebrows, challenging Kennedy to not deviate from the subject. "But you're right. I came mostly because she wanted me to."

"Well, you seemed to thrive here, so I’m just curious as to how you feel about continuing your studies."

"I haven’t thought about it yet." Kennedy replied honestly, now sitting on a high stool by the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on Ayna, watching her move around.

"I think it suits you."

"You see me as a politician?"

"Not just in the sense you’re thinking. There’s a lot to this world that doesn’t involve you actually being a candidate and running for office." With a bottle of wine in each hand, Ayna showed both to Kennedy at the same time. "Red or white?"

"Hmm, white." To Kennedy's answer, Ayna just nodded and went for a corckscrew to open it.

"You know, I’ve been listening for so long how I should follow in my mom's footsteps that I guess I never really contemplated anything else."

"You do have a knack for making people feel at ease, and I’ve seen you do great at solving issues and leaving everyone involved satisfied. And you did great at avoiding conflict too." Ayna said as she approached with two glasses of wine, offering one to Kennedy. "Watching your debate was nice, it felt like you were in your element."

Kennedy took the offered glass and spent a few seconds twirling the wine around it before sipping. "Yeah, I thought I’d be going through a minefield with that assignment, but working with Blaine was surprisingly easy and not that conflituous,” she said, reaching for and pulling Ayna closer to her, scooting backwards and giving Ayna more space to settle in the space between her legs.

“Hmpf, I’d rather not think of how exactly you avoided conflict with him.” Ayna retorted, gulping down a very big sip of her own glass of wine.

"What? You don’t like picturing me charming Blaine off?"

"Uh, no?" Ayna moved away swiftly, her demeanor challenging, as if saying “did you really just ask me that?”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Is that why you love pushing my buttons?” Ayna asked narrowing her eyes.

“I mean, it can get pretty intense sometimes. Jealous you is hot,” Kennedy replied teasingly.

“So you really do just do it to get a rise out of me.” Annoyed, Ayna took a step back and started to fully distance herself from Kennedy’s reach.

“Hey, I’m sorry, ok?” Kennedy hurried to apologize, realizing she missed the mark on this one. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she added, drawing Ayna back to her. To her relief, Ayna offered no resistance, and Kennedy took advantage of it wrapping her into her arms, guiding Ayna’s head to rest on her shoulder. “It was dumb of me, I’m sorry.”

“No, I am sorry. I’m not usually jealous like this, I just— oof,” Ayna shaked her head, sighing dramatically before settling back into the comfort of her girlfriend’s arms, “I’m not used to this feeling.”

“If it makes you feel better, I promise when we were working on that debate, we were really just working on the debate.”

“Really?” Ayna lifted her head up to look at Kennedy, her own eyes holding such a look of childlike hope Kennedy just found it damn adorable.

“Yes, I swear. By then, I was already completely charmed off by a certain TA. Getting you out of my head was no easy task.”

Ayna flashed a bright smile, cheeks flushing slightly as she lowered her gaze, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“See? You can’t smile like that and expect me to not think about that all day.” Kennedy exclaimed, gently lifting Ayna’s head back again and leaning in for a kiss.

It was supposed to be a quick reaffirming kiss only, but Kennedy decided she had spent far too long of today already not kissing her girlfriend, so she jumped off the stool to be able do it properly. She placed one hand on Ayna’s lower back and the other at the back of her head, entangling her fingers into Ayna’s locks and bringing their bodies as close as possible.

“We’re digressing,” Ayna grinned through the kiss.

“I like this subject better.” Kennedy replied quickly, just as quickly diving in for another kiss, only to be met with a smirking and uncooperative Ayna. “Nice try, but I’m not about to let our pizza burn. And I know where this will lead us."

“Would that be so bad?”

“It would if we end up setting the apartment on fire.”

Kennedy was ready to retort, or whine, to be more specific, when the oven timer set off. “Saved by the bell.”

To follow on the theme of having the full experience, Kennedy was the one to take the pizza out, with Ayna hovering around her fearful she would burn herself.

“Relax, I got this. Go sit by the table and let me pamper you for a little bit.”

Ayna complied, albeit reluctantly, and Kennedy did the best she could cutting and serving the pizza (it shouldn’t be that difficult, right?). The looks and smell of it were incredibly promising of a good meal. The bright yellow mixed with the few golden spots of over baked cheese coupled with the contrast given by the green leaves against the red sauce certainly provided a sight for hungry eyes, and the heavenly smell of any fresh off the oven pizza certainly didn’t hurt either.

“Whoa, this turned out to be really good,” Kennedy exclaimed in between bites, munching excitedly and occasionaly closing her eyes to further appreciate it, letting out satisfied little grunts. She would never have guessed pre made frozen dough could actually turn into a perfect crunchy crust.

With a hint of amusement at Kennedy's eagerness over pizza, Ayna teased, “You sound surprised."

“Well, yeah, it had me involved."

“Hey, don’t ditch your sous chef.” Ayna said, feigning indignation. Kennedy bends over in Ayna's direction, placing a quick chaste kiss on her cheek. "You're a really great cook. Thank you for this."

The rest of the dinner went by much in the same manner. Kennedy was reveling in the fact her audience wouldn't berate her for not being the image of the prim and proper lady, and at some point she may even have indulged in foregoing the silverware and going straight for the kill with her hands. Truth be told, Ayna was delighted by the sight, and vowed to always make sure Kennedy could be whoever she wanted to be with her.

Once they were belly filled and satisfied, they moved back to the living room, glasses of wine in hand, a recently new opened bottle resting on the coffee table. The reality of it was that none wished for their night to end just yet, and they talked about as many meaningless and trivial subjects as they could think of, conversation flowing freely. But by the time their second bottle was nearly done with, Kennedy noticed Ayna was getting more and more quiet, almost as if lost in thought.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She inquired softly, nudging Ayna lightly, trying to prompt the woman to share what had her suddenly silent.

"I was just thinking about what we were talking earlier."

"We talked about many things," Kennedy replied, leaving both their glasses on the coffee table and moving back to the couch. She sprawled herself on the lenght of it, resting her head on Ayna's lap. "What has gotten you so pensive?"

"You", Ayna stated matter of factly, adjusting herself so Kennedy could fit in better. She brought both her hands to Kennedy's hair, caressing it tenderly, before continuing. “And your mom. You don’t have to antagonize her to follow your own path but you don’t need to follow in her footsteps either."

Kennedy remained silent. She didn't know exactly what to answer to that, for one, and she was sure Ayna would have more to say. She limited herself to closing her eyes, enjoying the soothing feeling of Ayna's hands on her hair.

Taking Kennedy's silence as encouragement (or at least not discouragement), Ayna added, "Sure, you’ll always face some level of scrutiny and expectations, even when she steps down from office, but you can still make choices of your own. I’m sure your mom would be supportive and proud of you.”

“You sure about that? I doubt it sometimes.”

“She may come off as distant and nonchalant, but I think it’s just because she’s really busy. She really cares about you.”

“Yeah, I know this whole mess brought us closer, but sometimes I wonder why we drifted apart in the first place. I miss her.”

"You don’t have to miss her, she’s right there. And you don’t have to hinder your future because you decided to stick yourself with the rebel role. There’s nothing wrong with changing your mind."

“I love you so much, you know that?" Kennedy inquired, a glint of admiration in her eyes as she sits herself back up to place a kiss on Ayna's lips. She then moved to take one of Ayna's hand on hers, squeezing tightly. "You say the greatest things. And you’re right. I thought at some point about leaving just so I could go against her, but truth is I kind of enjoyed this year here”.

As Kennedy was about to drop Ayna's hand, the older woman just incresead her own hold, not letting Kennedy go. “Whatever you choose, I’m sure you’re gonna do great. You’re hard working and focused, you could make anything work. And I’ll be rooting for you every step of the way.”

“Even if it means I leave Vancross?” Kennedy tilted her head to the side, an expression of incredulity and maybe disbelief on her face.

“Why not? I want you to be happy. If you realize that’s what you want, go for it. I like believing we're strong enough to survive us not being so close together all the time.”

“I like believing that too.”

“In any case, I don't think I wish Vancross to be my endgame anymore.”

“No? But you love teaching?”

“I do. But Vancross is not the only educational institution in the world. I could finish my thesis here and leave, or I could leave and finish it somewhere else. Assuming I can have a nice recommendation from here that is.”

Kennedy's expression softened considerably after that, now holding as many emotions as the number of beats per minute her racing heart is doing. It was hope, delight, caring, love. "What are you really saying?"

"I'm saying I'll go wherever you will if you'll have me."

Goddamn. With that sentence Ayna managed to increase Kennedy’s heart rate by tenfold and the younger woman loved it. She realized she hasn’t been this excited and hopeful for the future in the longest while, and she was eager to show Ayna just how much. Smiling widely she wasted no time in straddling the TA’s lap, moving her hips against Ayna’s, just to make sure her point would come across perfectly. When she felt Ayna bringing her hands against her back, letting out a low, quiet moan, Kennedy leaned in.

"Can we go back to digressing now? There’s no more pizza left to burn."

#foreign affairs #ayna seth #ayna x mc #ayna seth x mc #mc x ayna

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years ago

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Upside Down (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being a Henderson, the Reader never thought the Billy Hargrove would even spare her a glance, but she was wrong. He absolutely fell for her. And she fell for him. But the Upside Down doesn’t like it when people are happy.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Henderson!Reader

Genre: angst/ fluff

Warnings: descriptions of gross wounds and gore, swearing, could be potentially triggering to domestic abuse survivors, kinda PTSD

Word count: 7911 (a big boi)

I’ve mixed up the timeline and events a bit so that they fit this story :) Also note - I don’t condone Billy’s actions in the show. Abuse in any form is NOT okay. This is basically an AU! when looking at it

Hawkins was anything but what Billy had expected when moving to the small town. He’d set his mind on a place where nothing ever happened, the people were the dullest shades of grey, and the only resemblance of happiness he’d ever experience again, would be through the couple of pictures he’d managed to grab before moving from California. And he’d been right. Sort of.

Billy had been a wave of excitement that rolled into Hawkins High School in a long while, which meant all the attention was on him, and he liked it. He was splashy and wanted to make an impression, no matter how it went. He wasn’t there to make friends, just to finish his degree, and then he’d be free to go off and do whatever he wanted. But before he could do that, he had to make a statement.

The opportunity came to him at Tina’s Halloween party. Dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans, a bandana around his blond hair, Billy’s chest was left exposed, and when he sprayed out the leftover beer as he demolished the keg stand, he certainly cemented himself as the new king of Hawkins.

People buzzed around him, and he revelled in the attention, but then he saw something that turned his world upside down even more that it already had been. Or rather a someone.

Clad in a black beaded corset that rattled rhythmically with every step and sway of her hips, fishnet tights on her legs, sheer gloves that wrapped around her middle fingers up to her elbows, and a cheekbone length black bob, she was the epitome of a 1920s cabaret dancer; sultry and sexy, ready to destroy a man’s life. Some musical came to mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint which, because she took his breath away much like the cigarette smoke invading his lungs.

He nudged Tommy’s shoulder and pointed at the girl with his chin. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Nancy, come on dude.”

“No, I mean the girl next to her,” and this time he pointed directly at her.

Tommy’s eyebrows looked like they were about to shoot up in the stratosphere. “Y/N? You mean Y/N Henderson?”

That name changed everything, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

She was the other Henderson. A nerd, much like her brother, a bit shy but would never back down from a challenge and could never hold her tongue behind her teeth, even when it hurt her. She was the color the horrid town had lacked so much, and after how Tommy had put her down, Billy was just as surprised as she was when he started talking to her.

“Are you lost or something?” Y/N’s eyebrow rose as she faced the boy leaning against her neighbouring locker.

“Uhh, no?” he chuckled chewing on his bottom lip.

“Okay, so, have you already gone through all the girls that would let you? Because you can skip right along to the next one. I ain't it.”

Billy bristled a bit, shifting on his feet. He hadn’t expected the spunk. “Can’t I just talk to a pretty girl?”

“No, because people like you don’t talk to people like me.”

Don’t get her wrong, she by no means thought she was ugly or undeserving of attention. She just knew had it not been for Nancy, the popular crowd of Vicky, Tommy, Carol and the like, would’ve never given her the time of the day. And nowadays they didn’t. So, when the new king of Hawkins decided to strike up a conversation, things just felt odd.

“Nah, I just,” Billy fumbled a bit, “I uh, just wanted to get to know you. We didn’t get a chance to talk at Tina’s.”

Y/N closed her eyes and smiled before turning to Nancy and saying she’d catch up with her in chem class.

“Alright, Billy boy,” she turned back around to face the Californian. “Let’s get to know one another.”

The smile that appeared on his face was the most genuine he’d shown in a month. And somehow it didn’t end just there. He kept talking to her, meeting her at her locker, walking her to her car, or when it was at the repair shop, he offered Y/N a ride home. He laid his soul out to her on a silver platter, and instead of smashing it like he feared she would, Y/N took it in her hands and kept it safe within her grasp.

It was on a starry night when he’d chucked stones at her window to wake the girl up and made her sneak out of the house for a late drive to the ice cream shop when things took a turn.

“If Dustin comes back, and I’m not home, he’s gonna snitch on me, and I’m so gonna blame you,” she scolded Billy, but there was no animosity in her tone, and when she threw him a grin, it made his heart stutter in his chest.

It had been happening quite a lot recently. The stuttering. His heart skipped a beat when he woke up and thought of how he’d see Y/N waiting for him by her locker, it skipped a beat when he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her next to him, and it skipped a beat when she rolled her Y/E/C eyes at whatever he'd said, and then hid her face in his side. And it scared him.

He’d never felt that way before, but he understood what it meant, especially when his chest got being ripped apart whenever she wasn’t near, so that’s when he started to drive to her place for their nightly outings because he just needed to be near her. Not that he’d say anything to Max, nor Y/N would ever mention it to Dustin.

But unfortunately, as much as she laid out her own heart to Billy, there were also things she’d never tell him. Because her heart skipped a beat as well whenever the Californian entered her mind, and Y/N had already lost too much the year prior. His world hadn’t been the only one that’d turned upside down.

With his jacket draped over her shoulders, they crept around her house to the blue Camaro waiting a bit further down the driveway, so the lights wouldn’t give him away. Not that it would’ve mattered when her and Dustin’s mother was out of the town for the week, but they still liked to be as careful as possible.

Def Leppard blasted through the speakers, and they talked about what they'd done. It was a Saturday, so Y/N had spent the whole day at home, while Dustin hung out with the party. She needed the quiet as much as possible while dealing with a chem project, and that included Billy not visiting. When his phone had rung with her saying she was done, he was finally able to scratch the itch that was time spent without Y/N.

At that moment, they were sitting comfortably in the seats of the Camaro parked by Lover’s Lake and watching the scenery. She hadn’t told him how much nighttime actually scared her, but that was because, with him, she felt safe. It was alone when the thoughts of Barb and the Demogorgon came back. But never with him. Though what he said next, pulled her out of the dark reminiscing.

“Let’s go on a date.”

“What?” Y/N choked on her ice cream, looking over at Billy with eyes wide as saucers.

He took in a shuddering breath, but when he repeated the words they were as steady as ever. “Let’s go on a date.”

“Is this – is this some kind of a joke?”

Billy shook his head before taking away the melting ice cream in the little paper cup and placed it on the dashboard, taking Y/N’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

“Look I really like you. I have for a while, and yeah, it started off just like you’d like a friend, but now... when I see you, my heart does this weird thing where it starts beating really fast, and my stomach tosses and turns and shit… and that only happens when I think or look at you… so I like you. And I’d like to go on a date with you.

Stunned silence settled between the two teenagers as Y/N processed his words. He no longer could read her facial expression as it had turned into a blank piece of paper instead of the book, he used to be able to leaf through without any problems or hiccups.

A gentle finger pushed a piece of Y/H/C hair out of her face. “What’s going on through that pretty head of yours?” a nervous chuckle escaped him. “You know I can take whatever you throw at me. ‘S not gonna make me care less for you.”

“No, I uh,” Y/N snorted and shook her head, pressing her free hand to her mouth. “I just didn’t expect that from you.”

“What did you expect?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “I mean whenever you go out with girls, it’s never been with someone like me. And every time you did it, I pretended I was okay with it. Cause I cared about you too and wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.”

Billy’s eyes widened, and a small smile started pulling on his lips. “You were jealous?”

“Of course, I was! I’ve liked you for close to a month, but every time I heard you talk about taking a chick out, I pushed my feelings away.” Y/N looked at him and gave him a tight smile. “Love triangles aren’t like they show in the movies. Typically, there’re two happy people and one really sad who won’t show any emotions at all. Guess which one was me?”

He let out a short laugh and squeezed her hand a bit tighter, finally feeling free enough to press a kiss to the skin of her palm. “We’re both quite thick, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Y/N agreed, looking at their clasped palms that fit together like two puzzle pieces. Sure, they’d held hands before, this wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time with the knowledge their feelings were returned.

“Can I kiss you?” Billy asked.

Y/N’s head shot up. He never asked to kiss someone, girls practically threw themselves at him to have their lips sucked off their face, but his shaky tone and scared eyes showed he was terrified she’d say no.

Slowly she leaned in, and when he didn’t pull back, Y/N pressed her lips to his. It was absolutely euphoric for both of them. The days and weeks of pent up frustrations and heartache inducing thoughts evaporated as they moved their lips in a dance.

He didn’t want to pull back, and neither did she, but their lungs burned from the lack of air, though Billy didn’t let Y/N get too far, bringing a palm to the base of her neck to keep her close, foreheads resting against one another. Not that she wanted to get away in the first place.

“So, go on a date with me?”

Y/N grinned caressing his face and pulling him closer, much as he did with her, taking hold of her waist and helping her straddle him in the seat, hands keeping her hips away from digging into the steering wheel. “I don’t just kiss all the pretty guys who bat their eyelashes at me.”

When she was close to him like that, his heart flipped and skipped and revved and started once more, but now he loved the feeling because, through the three layers of fabric that separated their skins, he could feel Y/N’s heart beating out of her chest as well.

“We can’t tell Dustin though,” she murmured pressing her lips to his in a quick peck. “He’ll rip our heads off.”

“Max too.”

“And Steve… and Nancy and Johnathan… basically the whole party.”

Billy nodded before diving in for another kiss. “Agreed.”

***

For a couple of weeks, they lived in a state of bliss. Now the late-night sneak outs were filled with kisses by the lake and hands that held one another as close as possible as if they’d disappear into thin air. But the happiness didn’t’ last long, and Billy couldn't find anyone to blame.

It was a pretty standard day for them, as he found Y/N talking with Nancy by her locker, up until he saw her facial expression.

“ -ought we were done with that,” Y/N hissed. “Fuck, I can’t! I can’t lose more people.”

Billy frowned when he heard that. Yes, he knew she’d lost one of her friends, though he didn’t know the details, he understood how much impact that'd had on Y/N’s life, but when she talked about it happening again and losing people again, his stomach churned.

“Everything alright here?”

Y/N jumped, not expecting the voice, almost slamming her head against the locker, and her reaction made Billy even more scared.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Nancy squeezed Y/N’s bicep before leaving her and the boy on their own.

Nancy wasn’t stupid and knew how much her friend cared for Billy and suspected there was more between them, so her heart ached at the thought how Y/N’s mind immediately went to the dark places where the Demogorgon lurked.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

His palms were like velvet as he cupped her face, and he didn’t care anymore if people found out they were together. All he cared about was what his girl was so fearful of.

“Talk to me,” he whispered. “Please.”

But when she shook her head and plastered on the fakest smile ever, his heart shattered.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just Nancy reminded of the chem test coming up, and I’m so unprepared.”

She was lying to him. Y/N never did that, and he didn’t lie to her either. It was an unspoken rule they’d made up that there'd be no secrets between the two, but Billy now realized his girlfriend might have quite a few things he was unaware of. And she wasn’t planning on sharing.

“You ready for calculus?” Y/N changed the subject and wrapped her hand around his waist, not even thinking of how people might start speculating. Even when they weren’t together, they were attached at the hip, and Billy was as soft as a feather around her. “Miss Baxter is gonna kill me with those equations.”

But Billy wasn’t listening to her rambles about math and unimportant things, because his heart was sinking with every step he took as the fear he’d had in him about Y/N rejecting him, came back almost tenfold. And when that cursed Halloween rolled around, it didn't help the situation at all.

Y/N was nowhere to be found, which was unsurprising to him at that point; she’d been pulling away hour by hour, breaking his already fragile belief in love. He was upset and pissed and had decided enough was enough. He wanted answers.

Just as he was about to leave the house, Neil barged in, enraged Max was still out after her curfew.

“She’s probably with those friends of hers,” Billy said. “She’ll be back in no time.”

Neil stepped inside the room, and instantly the atmosphere changed. “You’re gonna go and find her, and then get the fuck back home.”

Billy straightened out, facing his father. He couldn't let him ruin what could still be saved. “I have plans! I need to see Y/N!”

“Your whore can wait.”

“Don’t you dare call her a wh-“ Billy's head slammed against his wardrobe, sparks flying behind his eyelids, and a hand tightly wrapped around his throat, cutting off the air.

“Now,” Neil’s voice was like the calm before the storm. “You’re gonna go out there, find your sister, and then come home. You’re not gonna go and see that slut, and you’re not gonna go to your friends. Understood?”

The hand squeezed tighter around Billy's neck, and he barely managed to rasp out a ‘yes’.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

Finally, Neil let him go, and he gulped breath after breath, his own hand going to soothe the skin where there would undeniably be finger marks left the next day.

A single tear rolled down Billy’s cheek, as his poor excuse of a father left, Susan’s sympathetic gaze the last thing he saw before the door slammed shut.

He crumpled down on the floor, fingers fisting in his hair. He felt so alone, and all he wanted was to be held by Y/N, but even she was pulling away.

Angrily he wiped away the salty pearls from his face and stomped to his car setting off on his search for Max but not before delivering a few punches to the wheel. When he got to the Byers’ house, he wasn’t feeling any better. In fact, he turned worse, seeing red when Max's face flashed through the window.

Like some angry bull, he went after Steve, pummeling him into the ground, and almost knocked a few punches into Lucas had it not been for Max and the tranquillizer she pushed into his system.

In all honesty, the night was a blur. He couldn’t remember how he ended up in his car, nor how he managed to safely drive to Y/N’s - the only place he knew someone would help him.

She had, but it backfired. He’d felt the distance between them grow even more afterwards, and he understood her reasons. Partially. After patching him up, he was left to rest in her bed, which gave her the time to find out what the hell had happened between him and the party. They had enough shit to deal with, with all the Demodogs and the Upside Down being back again.

When Max and Dustin spilt the beans (albeit reluctantly because they knew how happy their siblings were together), Y/N gave Billy the silent treatment for three whole weeks. She only started talking to him after he’d apologized not only to her but to the two boys one of which he'd beaten to a pulp.

But it only helped a little. He got her back into his life somewhat, yet not fully, and right before the Snowball dance it all crumbled as she broke up with him.

To say he was stunned would be an understatement. He’d gone to her place expecting them to talk out their issues, and he could end it with asking her to go to the dance, but instead, she’d stood twelve feet away from him, arms crossed, eyes on the ground saying they can’t be together anymore.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered looking at Y/N, hoping she’d meet his gaze. She didn’t. “I thought we were alright. If this is about Hallowe-“

“This isn’t about that night.” Y/N shook her head. “Well, it is. Kind of. But not all of it.”

“Then please explain, so I can fix it. Let me make things right.”

She let out a sigh and sat down onto the bed. “I can’t. And even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Is this about what happened to Barb?’

Y/N finally looked at Billy, her Y/E/C gaze meeting his blue. “Yes.”

That was it. No further explanations, no elaborations, no excuses.

“Y/N – “

“Can you please leave now?”

“Sweetheart – “

“Please,” she whimpered out, hugging herself. “Please just leave.”

And he did, but it felt like his body was fighting his mind, as his brain screamed to stay and comfort and hold, but his legs had their own agency, and carried Billy out of Y/N’s house, past a disappointed Dustin who’d been listening in on the conversation and shook his head, closing his door, and to his car where he sat for twenty minutes just staring into the distance trying to process what the hell had just happened.

When he went into school the next day, Billy was in a haze, his mind not really functioning.

“Where’s the leech?” Tommy H. cackled beside him, clapping Billy on the shoulder.

“What?”

“I asked where’s the other Henderson that’s always stuck to your side?”

“She uh,” Billy stopped mid-sentence. Tommy H. didn't need to know they dated. “We kinda fell out.”

“Fucking finally,” his ‘friend’ scoffed. “Told you she was a waste of time and space.”

Billy was just about ready to clock him, when his eyes befell on Y/N who finally entered the hallway. There was nothing left of the girl he used to know. She was now part of the grey mass Hawkins seemed to him in the beginning, but even then, she stood out, because even then she didn’t match the shades. She was darker, almost black without the spark that made Y/N Y/N. Billy wished she would turn grey, because he'd never been surer that's how it felt to look down an abyss.

The rest of the day was a nightmare. He had to watch from the side-lines as the person he loved most practically withered away. She was closed off, even to Nancy (which he found out after sucking up his ego and asking Wheeler), and he knew the issue ran much deeper than the simple confirmation of his suspicions, but he couldn’t help if she didn’t let him in.

He wanted to reach out, he wanted her to use him as a shoulder to cry on, to wrap her arms around him and mumble all her worries into his skin, but any time Billy even so much as looked at her, Y/N would turn her blank stare to the window or the wall or the floor. Anywhere that wasn’t him.

***

Though when summer came along… summer was a different beast. Billy got a job at the pool, and Y/N got a job at the newly built mall in a department store, and when he saw the girl as she came to pick up Dustin and the rest of the party, she once again looked full of life.

She was practically glowing, and Billy had to say a quick thank you to whoever invented summer breaks, as it seemed, being out of the school environment, was what Y/N needed.

The canary yellow one-piece bathing suit made her seem like the ray of sunshine the teenager knew her to be, and the cobalt wrap around her neck was the summer sky that appeared after the dark clouds dissipated. Though what irked Billy was she still kept her distance from him, and as a surprise for Y/N, he wasn’t giving up.

The girl was there to pick Dustin up once again because he wanted to see Steve at ‘Scoops Ahoy’ before meeting up with the rest of his friends, so Billy took his chance.

She’d scoped out the open pool area for the blond boy, and was relieved he wasn’t on his shift, think it'd be a quick in and out.

“Dustin, come on!” Y/N hollered. “We gotta go!”

But she wasn’t as sly as she'd hoped she'd be when a shadow started to loom over her.

There was no doubt in her mind who it was, and her theory was confirmed when Y/N came face to face with the naked chest of Billy. It wasn’t the first time, she’d been in that position, but the circumstances used to be different. Back then, when the hole that were the thoughts and fears of the Demogorgon was the size of a pebble, Billy would be like that on top of Y/N, her nails scratching along the golden skin and leaving loving red marks as her lips worked on the side of his neck to muster up some purplish ones for him to remember her by.

“Hey,” he breathed out taking off his sunglasses.

“Hey yourself,” Y/N breathed out as well. She hadn’t been this close to Billy even before winter break, so all the suppressed feelings were starting to bubble up again, especially when he cleared his throat and reminded her how shy he could actually be, and it pulled at her chest even more.

“Look, can we talk? Please? I just… I just want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m alright,” she shrugged. “Happy?”

Billy sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “You know I don’t believe you.”

“Then what do you want from me?” she crossed her arms motioning with her head for Dustin to hurry up.

“I want my girlfriend back,” Billy muttered just so she heard him and not the prying ears of the classmates that had gathered by the poolside. “If not that, then at least my best friend. I miss you.”

And she couldn’t deny the fact she missed him as well. Y/N’s own body language betrayed her. He could see how much she wanted to be wrapped in his warmth, and Billy prayed she’d give in and melt against him.

Finally, she sighed. “Are you closing the pool tonight?”

Billy shook his head, blond curls bouncing. “Heather is, but I can ask and switch.”

“I’ll be here at eight,” Y/N stated right as Dustin bounded up to her ready to leave for the mall.

***

Eight couldn’t come fast enough. His shift felt like it was being dragged out by a supernatural force. By the time six rolled around, there was no one but Heather and him left to clean the poolside. Seven came, and Billy was on his own, mopping the men’s locker room, and wiping down the sauna door. An hour later, Billy was sitting on the edge of the pool, legs inside the warm water.

“Get any acceptance letters yet?”

Her voice brought him out of a trance, and he was about to jump up when she sat down beside him, putting her own legs in the liquid. In normal circumstances, Y/N would lean against him, and Billy would wrap her into his side, but they were no longer in the normal days.

“I mean I did only apply to UCLA, so waiting on that… if it even comes. Heather applied as well, and she received hers yesterday.”

“You’ll get in, Billy, don’t worry,” Y/N's tone was as soft as it was with him when they'd been together. “You’re smart, so don’t put yourself down, and I’m sure UCLA will see it too.”

“You?” he nudged her shoulder with his. “I remember you rambling on about NYU, Brown, Oxford and a bunch of others.”

She shrugged. “Not yet. Though with how last semester went dunno if I will. Kinda went off the deep end.”

Y/N knew Billy wanted to know exactly about that. Why did she suddenly shut down, what was the real reason she broke up with him and completely cut him out of her life, but the second she opened her mouth, finally ready to speak, the lights flickered around them. Instantly, Y/N froze and spaced out, much like when Billy had surprised her all those months ago by her locker.

“Hey, hey,” he cupped her face trying to get her attention. “Come back to me. You’re alright, you’re safe. It’s just me and you,” he placed a hand on her chest and one of hers on his. “Can you feel how I’m breathing?”

Shakily Y/N nodded.

“Okay,” he nodded back. “Now try to breathe the same way. In,” he took a breath and watched as Y/N mimicked him. “Hold. And out.”

For five minutes as the lights continued to flicker and then finally went out, they kept on with the pattern.

“It’s just a blackout, sweetheart. And you’re not alone. Not if you don’t push me away,” he whispered pressing his forehead to hers. “Please let me in. Please let me be there for you.”

“You can be there for me without knowing why,” her voice still shook from the fright, but with Billy’s presence it slowly levelled out.

His grip on her wrist tightened and he brought it to his lips. “How can I protect you without knowing what to protect you from?”

“Why can’t you just trust me with this? That it’s better not to know.” This whole episode had proved Y/N's point to her – it was safer to not know. Especially for Billy. He already had enough shit to deal with at home.

“Because you don’t trust me to keep you safe.”

“I do,” Y/N sighed, standing up, defeated that he wouldn’t give up and stepped away. “And I love you even more, but I’d prefer if you were alive.”

“You can’t just say shit like that and then tell me not to worry! You can’t tell me I could die from knowing and walk around without me scared shitless!” he jumped up and walked after her, but when Y/N spun around, tears of anger in her eyes, he stopped mid-step.

“I’ve been dealing with this shit for three years now, and I lost one of my best friends because of it! Dustin almost lost one of his best friends! I can’t lose you too,” the last bit came out like a choked back whimper. “I’d rather you hate me than be dead.”

***

That night hadn’t gone how she thought it would. Sure, Y/N had expected to be pretty much interrogated by Billy, but she hadn’t expected the blackout and the all-encompassing fear that erupted throughout her body when the lights blinked out. It was two days later when she finally decided to talk to someone about it

“I’m alright, Nance,” she sighed rolling over in her bed as she talked to her friend. “It was just… fuck. I don’t know when this shit will end. It’s like any time someone turns off the light, I start to see the shadows move and shit. I can’t go on like that.”

She heard some shuffling and muttering from the other end, and Y/N could only guess Johnathan was with her. “Look,” Nancy came back. “Maybe… maybe you can tell him. About everything. He could help us… he could help you, fuck, a blind person could see how much he calms you down.”

“I can’t do that; you know it, Nance! I can’t put him in unnecessary danger.”

“If you’re thinking about Barb, then please stop. This is not the same, in fact, it’s the opposite,” a thick silence settled between the two girls as they thought back to their friend. “Maybe had we known; I wouldn’t have let her leave.”

“Nancy, it wasn’t your fault,” Y/N choked back. “It’s no one’s fault but that monsters.”

“I know, but I’m saying had she known… had we all known, maybe we could’ve been more careful.”

Y/N had nothing to say against that. Had Barb known, maybe she truly would still be with them, and they’d still have their weekly girl’s nights.

“I just don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to lose him,” she whispered to Nancy. “I can’t lose

him.”

“You’re already losing him by pushing him away.”

She hated Nancy was right, absolutely despised it, but it was Y/N’s safety mechanism, not only to keep the other out of harm’s way but herself as well. If she pushed away enough, maybe once Billy left her, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Look, Johnathan and I will come over and we can have a chillout. Some shit’s been going on, so we need a bit of a break as well,” Nancy said. “And I ain’t suggesting. So, get cleaned up, we’ll come round and help you with the house, but if you look like a homeless man when we arrive, I’ll personally shave off your head.”

There was no room for arguments, especially when the long beep announced Nancy had dropped the call. So, with a sigh, Y/N peeled herself off from where she’d practically melted in the bed and trudged to her adjoined bathroom. She’d almost physically fought Dustin for it, but the ‘older sibling’ card had ultimately won.

Per Nancy’s instructions, Y/N started to pull herself together. She ran a bath, adding some lavender bubbles and applied a facemask to the sun-kissed skin. It felt kind of tight after being outside by the pool when typically, she barely let the rays touch her, so it definitely needed some moisturizing.

For the first time in a long while, Y/N felt relaxed, as the hot bubbles encased her. She let out a soft moan when her body was fully submerged and rested her head against the side of the bath. A soft smile appeared on her face when she thought back on the times, she’d done this with Billy and used him as a place to lay her head against. His rough palms would gently caress her sides and massage the knots that'd settled in her shoulders before bringing in her lips for a kiss. But that was the past.

She pulled her hand out of the liquid cocoon and reached for the razor on the side of the tub. Her skin was slathered enough, that Y/N just decided to go for it, though, with the first stroke of the blades, a sharp sting wrapped around her ankle.

“Shit,” Y/N hissed, instantly wiping away the blood and licking her finger. “Shit, fucking hell, really?”

As quickly as she could, she shaved both of her legs, without any injuries this time, and got out of the tub to go search for a band-aid. She dried herself off and pulled the old Jaws shirt she’d stolen one night from Billy and refused to give back, saying she preferred to sleep in something of his when he couldn’t be next, and took a pair of work out shorts as bottoms because the heat of Hawkins was unforgiving.

A glance at the fridge where two notes stood, one from her mom saying she’d be out of the town for the remained of the week on a work trip, and the other from Dustin threatening Y/N if she even so much as looked at his portion of cookies while he was out he’d snap her neck, she scoffed and grabbed a couple of the chocolate chip circles.

“Dickhead,” Y/N muttered through a stuffed mouth, reaching for a stool to get to their first aid kit.

Red drops had seeped through the tissue paper she’d wrapped around her ankle and splattered onto the floor.

A light flickered.

When Nancy and Johnathan pulled up, all they saw was the lights in Y/N’s house going haywire accompanied by screams.

***

Meanwhile, Billy had had the shittiest couple of days of them all. After getting nowhere with Y/N, just more concerned for her wellbeing, he’d spent the nights in the garage working on his beloved Camaro, or inside his room, headphones on and AC/DC blaring through his Walkman.

He’d tried calling, but when the phone went unanswered or when Dustin picked up telling how Y/N wasn’t even talking to him, Billy gave up. Maybe it was finally time to let it go and let her go. She seemed to have one hundred percent decided it was either Billy put on a mask of ignorance and they went back to how it used to be, or she wanted nothing to do with him. And Billy couldn’t pretend he didn’t care.

Aggressive banging against his door jerked him out of the self-pity hole he’d been in the past couple of days and towards the invader. Max’s face was unimpressed when he ripped open the door.

“What?” he growled. “What do you want?”

Pretty much everyone that lived in Hawkins piled into his room without a single uttered word – Dustin, Mike, Lucas, the new girl El, Will, Max, but what surprised him the most was Steve.

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” Billy puffed out his chest. “Need another round?”

“Do that, and you’ll never get back with my sister,” Dustin started, going over to Billy’s curtains and drawing them closed. “And you do want to get back with Y/N, right?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Billy scoffed.

“A simple yes or no,” Max butted in. “If it’s a no, then we’re leaving and you can continue to wallow in your misery, or you can sit down and let us explain.”

A sarcastic snort escaped him, but he relented. Plopping back onto the bed, he rolled his eyes giving Y/N’s brother the go for him to get on with whatever the hell he had to, as long as they’d leave him alone after this and never came in a five feet radius.

“You have to keep an open mind, cause this shit will sound absolutely crazy, but it’s a hundred percent true,” Dustin looked around at the rest of the people. When everyone had given an affirmative nod, he dove into the tale that began two years prior.

Throughout the whole recounting of how Will and Barb had gone missing, how Nancy, Y/N and Johnathan had ventured into the woods at night and had been greeted by a monster with a meat flower for a head and had had to hide for their lives, and how the kids had found El, all leading up to where she’d destroyed it with telekinesis, Billy was practically emotionless, apart from the moment when Steve said while him, Johnathan, Nancy and Y/N had been fighting the thing at Byers’, she’d barely escaped from the Demogorgon and had almost been caught in the flame trap they’d set.

“We thought we were done with that shit, but last year it came back, and it's back now too,” Dustin sighed looking over at Will who’d hung his head. “That’s why Y/N was pushing you away. Things were getting out of hand, and she was afraid the Mind Flayer might get to you. She was just trying to protect you in a really dumbass way.”

“So,” Billy cleared his throat leaning on the edge of the bed and resting his chin against his clasped hands. “You’re telling me your sister broke up with me because an interdimensional monster was terrorizing you and she was afraid it would go after me?”

Dustin chewed on his bottom lip. “Well when you say it like that, it sounds insane.”

“Because it is!” the blond exploded. “God, if Y/N didn’t want to see me, she could’ve just told me she didn’t have any feelings anymore, not make you tell me some bullshit story. I get you, Henderson, and I know you’re a dick, Harrington, but I didn’t believe you had that little brain left to go along with this shit.”

The bitter chuckle that made its way out of Steve’s mouth was almost like a cue for everyone to leave. “Yeah, well the thing is, I’m going along with it because it’s the fucking truth. But it’s your loss. She was always way out of your league anyway.”

The sudden shrill ring of the phone made everyone jump before Max ran out of Billy’s room to pick it up.

“Did you not hear about the part where we said El’s got literal superpowers?” Mike butted in absolutely done with Billy, which made the older boy scoff.

“Of course, I fucking did, but I decided to block it out, cause given how the whole story’s bullshit, it makes even less sense!” he gestured towards the girl, who’d been standing somewhat behind Mike the whole time. “Come on then! Give us a show!”

“No, you know what, El?” Will popped in. “Don’t. If he doesn’t want to believe us, then so be it. You’re not some circus freak to entertain people. Like Steve said – it’s his loss. This whole thing was a waste of time.”

As everyone left Billy’s room, leaving him to ponder what the fuck had just happened, he heard Max’s panicked voice, and how the kids with Steve in tow sprinted out of the house.

“Hey!” he yelled after the redhead, who only stopped for a second before rushing to Steve's car. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“To Dustin’s. Y/N’s hurt.”

***

Those words, no matter what they’d told him before, struck true, and Billy bolted to his own Camaro, following Steve almost to the point he crashed into the vehicle a couple of times when the other guy pressed on the brakes.

Yells of pain greeted him when he jumped into the night air and rushed inside the now-demolished house. Lamps and glass littered the ground in jagged pieces, couch and pillow fillings dusted around like sprinkles on a cake, but the worst sight was the scarlet drops of blood on the walls and ground, some places oozing black like puss from a wound.

“Fuck, shit, fuck,” Billy could hear Y/N’s panting from where her room was, and practically showing her brother out of the way, ran to the pain-filled voice, but was stopped in the middle of the doorway when seeing Johnathan with a blazing white knife in hand. It made bile rise in Billy’s stomach, but what put him on the verge of throwing up was what happened next.

“What the –“ Johnathan exclaimed, noticing the Californian’s arrival, but instantly switched when the kids ran in Y/N’s room, completely unaffected by how everything looked. “El, hold her down,” Johnathan said, and in an instant, Y/N was no longer trying to get away from him.

She was stiff as a statue, eyes wide and filled with fear and pain, while El’s nose had a little stream of blood running from it, an outstretched hand towards Y/N, radiating unseen power that immobilized the girl he loved.

Everything the kids said, had said had been true. All of it, him being a witness to El’s telekinesis firsthand. Mike's gagging made him snap out of the daze and run to Y/N’s side where he pulled her to rest against his chest

“There’s something in there!” the youngest Wheeler shouted as Johnathan moved closer, kneeling down on bloodied rags that reeked of metal and alcohol.

“I know, what do you think we’re trying to do?” he said it as if he was calming himself down not Y/N. “Quick and fast.”

When the knife moved closer to the open wound, whatever was inside moved away, and it visibly caused Y/N pain, as tears streamed down her cheeks in an endless river.

“No, please,” Y/N whimpered. “It hurts, Billy. Please make it stop.”

“I will, baby, I promise,” he kissed the side of her head where it had lolled to rest against his shoulder. He had to process this quickly to help her. “I will. But you gotta hold on, alright? It’s gonna hurt only for a bit, and after that, it’ll be alright.”

But she kept shaking her head with every inch that the white-hot steel moved closer to her. The knife hadn’t even touched her. Her whimpers turned into screams. Finally, Billy snapped.

“Can’t you see you’re only hurting her?”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Nancy yelled back. She was crying as well; it was giving her no pleasure seeing one of her closest friends in such an immense amount of pain. “We gotta get it out and cauterize the wound. She could bleed to death.”

It was like a lightbulb went off in his head.

“She could pull it out,” Billy turned hopefully to El. “Right? If you can hold her down, why wouldn’t you be able to pull out whatever it is?”

“It’s still gonna hurt,” her voice was quiet and apologetic as she looked at Y/N, who only shook her head as if saying ‘it’s alright. I forgive you’, now freed from El’s hold, and able to sag against Billy’s front.

“Probably not as much as that would’ve.”

This gave them a few seconds to recuperate, and Nancy ran to her room taking three steps at a time before sprinting downstairs with a can of hairspray and a belt, as the rest tried to somewhat clean Y/N’s room and the house. Billy didn’t want to think about how much of the blood was hers and how much the monsters.

“What happened?” Billy muttered into Y/N’s hair and inhaled the scent of grapefruit and chamomile. He’d missed that smell. He’d missed falling asleep next to her, where he could hide his face by the crook of her neck and just drift off into a peaceful sleep.

The girl shuddered when he exhaled, the warm puff of air which used to be so soothing, now an unwelcome sensation, courtesy of the part of the Mind Flayer stuck in her body. “Was taking a bath,” Y/N murmured. “Decided to shave and accidentally cut myself. Next thing I know, all the lights started to flicker and this… mass of goo with tentacles was practically throwing me around the house. Luckily Nancy and Johnathan got here, and we were able to stave it off, but when she axed off one of the legs or whatever, I guess not everything retreated.”

A moan of displeasure invaded Billy’s ears, as she shifted a bit. “What are you doing here?”

“Dustin told me everything.”

She grunted straightening out in his hold. “I swear if I didn’t feel like someone played paper shredder with me, I’d kill him.”

“The question is why didn’t you tell me?”

“Had I, would you have believed me?”

Billy looked at her chest and focused on how it moved up and down in short quick breaths while thinking back on the confrontation and how the truth had been laid out to him a mere hour ago. His silence was her answer.

“Did you ever think maybe I was trying to protect you? It’s bad enough the kids are involved. This isn’t just shits and giggles. This is life and death. And if you somehow manage to get through this, you could go to jail. If you can’t tell, I’m not having the time of my life right now, Billy and –“

“I won’t let you do this without me. Not anymore.”

There was no room for discussion. The intensity of his gaze paralyzed Y/N, and as much as she hated to have him involved with the Upside Down business, as much as she hated he was now a possible target, she no longer could tell her heart no, so, she wove a hand into his curls and pulled him down for a kiss.

For a moment both forgot the situation they were in, and nothing but the sweet taste of the other existed. It was like their souls had been revived and their hearts synced to once more beat in the same rhythm.

When they pulled back and looked around the room, no one was watching, giving the pair some resemblance of privacy, and it made her chuckle, though the levity was soon eradicated when El stepped up.

“Bite on this,” Nancy handed the leather strip to Y/N, who only weakly nodded, and Billy fished out his lighter, tossing it to her.

“The second it's out, light it on fire.

Y/N was fully pressed against Billy now, his arms like a vice around her waist and shoulders, and hers on top of his biceps.

“You ready?” Steve asked kneeling down and putting both palms on her upper thigh, so she’d be as still as possible while El tried to extract whatever thing lurked underneath the tissues of her leg.

Y/N bit down harder on the belt and tightened her grip on Billy. He held her back just as tightly. For reassurance. For security. For safety. She was no longer in this alone. Billy would keep her safe. And she him.

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A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times. I was in quarantine myself, I got out of the UK in the nick of time so that I could wait this out at home (I wasn’t in contact with people and I was in a safe space away from everyone). I did have the sniffles and a sore throat which is chronic at this point and luckily it’s was just that, as I did go and get tested for COVID-19, but even if you’re like me - please check your temperature 2x a day, drink loads of tea with lemon and honey, and eat a lot of garlic. And don’t forget WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS! I HAVE SHIT TO DO AND PLACES TO BE AND I NEED THIS OVER BY JUNE!!! (please note I do hope we can get back to our normal lives by the end of May, (April would be amazing) but we need to listen to the medical professionals and advice from them. Not politicians, unless they tell you to stay the fuck inside, but actual people who know about disease and viruses. Trust them. They’re putting their lives on the line by being around the infected and treating them while we can sit home on our couches. If not for the respect of other people, then for the ones actually out there trying to curb and combat this.)

Stay safe my frens, and please know - if you need anyone to talk to don’t be afraid to message me. I know i’m quite bad at replying, but I’ll try to be more active at this time, as I know we’re supposed to be “social distancing” but I’d like to call it physical distancing. Heard that somewhere, didn’t make it up myself :D humans by nature are social creatures and as big of a homebody I am, I’m kinda going crazy (was in quarantine for 2 days and was already bored out of my mind). We all need people to talk to. If you need a vent or just someone to have a chat with for 5 mins, I’ll be here :) (P.S. please note I most likely have a huge time zone difference with everyone, so replies might be at off times :D)I’ll be trying to post more fics, but I do have my assignment still (we now have another 2 week deadline extension and I’m so fucking confused as to when are my new deadlines. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish everything in my quarantine, and I’ll be able to write some shizz up)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years ago

Text

Sanguine Nocturnus | 6

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Blasphemy. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : If you’re a Catholic, you may want to skip this chapter.

The apartments of the Elder in Situ had several access points, not only for housekeeping purposes, but security as well. As the sun fell behind the hills of Rome, Henry found himself using one of these less conventional ways to enter Gregory’s sitting room, preparing himself for a bit of a wait, since younger vampires tended to sleep more than their older counterparts. The door that led off one of the coven’s many claustrophobic staircases opened directly behind the Elder’s headboard, and gave anyone coming in a full view of the spacious room; it had come in handy many times throughout history, when a quick scan of the space meant the difference between life and death for their kind. Getting an elder out of danger quickly was a forgotten necessity these days, but back when most Romans still wore togas, it was a skill that earned a vampire a place of honor among those who were under an Elder’s rule.

Instead of a sleeping fledgling however, Henry was met with an eyeful. Facing the door, Gregory’s form bounced furiously against Fares’ thighs, the two entwined like the vines that covered some of Rome’s older buildings. There was no mistaking just how enjoyable the moment was for their young Elder, as his cock flopped lewdly up and down, his seed spraying over the fine sheets, reminding Henry of a hose under high pressure.

Though he immediately looked away, Henry knew there was no hiding his tall frame from the two men who would notice his presence at any moment. Clearing his throat to speed up the process, he pinched the bridge of his nose, already irritated. Though the night had only just begun, Henry had woken with ruffled feathers, a dream having brought back memories he would sooner rather forget about. His mind had taken him to a time when he was, despite his cursed eternity, happy. A quick visit to Lucrezia hadn’t helped, as she and Vinicius were curled up like two house cats, having just finished their breakfasts. Though he counted the two as family, there were times when opening up to the pair was too daunting a task; instead, he’d talked about nonsense and his plans for the night before making a hasty exit.

“Hey! Don’t you knock?!?” Gregory cried out when he finally opened his eyes, quickly getting off Fare and leaving the older vampire only half-satisfied, his orgasm ending on the sheets and not in his lover.

“Actually, as your teacher, I have no such requirement, nor any compunction in exercising that freedom. Get dressed, we don’t have time to waste.”

“I don’t appreciate you addressing me so cavalierly,” Gregory hissed as he threw on his suit jacket, following Henry out onto the wet cobbles. Balmy from the rain, the light glistened off all the drops that still clung to statues and facades, making the city seem dotted with stars that had fallen from the heavens. It would have been a wonder to behold with a slow, ambling pace, were it not for the task at hand.

“I don’t appreciate you not being ready for your lessons. You have all day to enjoy Fares’ company. You knew full well you had a schedule to keep and yet, you made me not only wait downstairs, but also come find you. Addressing you with the level of respect you currently deserve should be the least of your worries.”

Gregory stopped in his tracks, an impish grin crossing his face. “And what if I choose not to attend my lessons at all? What then, hmm? As Elder, I could very well do away with the requirement, could I not?”

“You could, but then someone would wake one of the others, and your head would be on a pike in the back garden before morning. The rules are in place for a reason, Gregory. They’ve kept us alive for millenia, and you trying to exercise what little power you have in the grand scheme of things, will only be crushed like a dead leaf underfoot. This position isn’t about you being special, or having privilege. It’s about keeping a villa full of demons in line until you get to rest six feet under for a while. Is that clear? Now let’s go.”

They walked in silence for a moment, before having to stop for an ambulance going full speed, its lights and sirens cutting harshly across the otherwise-quiet night. Henry’s eyes closed as he immediately took in the scent of death emanating from the vehicle. To his left, he could hear Gregory taking deep pulls at the air, smelling the same acrid scent.

"You should not fear death, for it can no longer touch you." Henry explained to Gregory as the road once more became clear, their steps echoing softly off alleyways as they passed.

"What can harm us, then?" The fledgling inquired, his eyes fixed on Henry. A group of young ladies passed them with wanting eyes, their smiles and near-silent chatter serving to make Gregory blush and Henry smirk.

"Holy water is a fallacy; as are crosses, crucifixes and stakes through the heart. Here, I'll show you." He smiled, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt and buttoning the top button so as to look more conformed as he led Gregory towards one of the older and smaller churches in Rome.

Henry could feel Gregory’s anxiety rise as they stepped across the threshold. The younger vampire’s mind raced as he watched Henry dip his fingers into the holy water and hold them there until Gregory’s gaze could look nowhere else; no sizzling, no burn, no melting of flesh could be seen as Henry removed his digits and swiped them across his forehead, an impish smile on his face.

Moving down the center aisle, Henry nodded at one of the three priests that occupied the place of worship, the man nodding back as he swayed a thurible across the expanse of his path. Henry could barely contain his lecherous smile as he knelt beside the first row of pews, crossed himself and slid into his seat. Gregory followed his actions, mimicking the old Catholic rituals, having had no personal experience with the church when he was alive. Shortly after they took their seats, the mass started and in the Pre-Tridentine tradition, the priest stood with his back to the pious, speaking solely in Latin.

"What fools they are. Following like sheep lead to slaughter. If they only knew that their salvation could be found in their own blood, this place would be desolate." The last word was spit from Henry’s lips as though it were a smoldering ember, teeth clenched in defiance of the group behind them.

“If you hate them so much, why bother coming here?” Gregory spoke, forgetting his volume and quickly being shushed by one of the parishioners.

“Because you need to learn not to fear the church when it comes calling, as it likes to do every century or so. Some overzealous monk will get it into his head that the old stories are not merely fables, and with or without the church’s blessing will make his way through the histories of old to try and end us once again. When that happens, if you are lucky enough to be in your current position, you will need to know that their tools cannot touch a hair on your head. God himself would have to send Michael’s sword, to even try to singe us.”

“So why wait until they come to us? Why not bring the fight to them and end this once and for all?” Gregory continued, intrigued by the thought of vampires fighting priests with each side of the theological pendulum watching from their respective sides.

“Simple. Priests taste like unwashed nethers and, to put it plainly, we don’t start fights; we finish them.”

The two waited until it was time to receive the Eucharist, both vampires following the other worshipers as they made their way up to the altar. When they reached the priest, Henry crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head, allowing the man to utter a blessing onto him before moving aside to kiss the foot of the Virgin Mary.

“Liar,” he whispered under his breath, the word directed at the matriarch of the religion, Henry keeping his eyes closed so as to not give his true nature away to those who might be looking. Standing to his full height, he continued his procession.

Confusion was written clearly on Gregory’s face as he watched Henry heading past their pew and towards the door, walking faster as he came closer to the massive wooden doors.

"Why are we leaving?" He hissed quietly when he caught up to the older vampire, the two moving through the doors despite the silent protests from the two ushers who stood guard on either side.

"Because this place is filthy and I need a bath. Also, there is more for you to learn tonight besides the fact that you are more powerful than this god they worship." Henry nearly snarled, spitting on the stone steps of the church purposely as he jogged down the shallow stairs.

Gregory dared not read his thoughts, afraid to see just what turn of events had caused such hate for the clergy and the religion as whole. Being an atheist, he was indifferent to religion, the practices of others having no effect on his daily life. But he could tell that something must have happened in order to make Henry as abhorrent as he was about the subject.

“I’m hungry. What else are we learning today, that’s so important it can’t wait for a meal?” Henry did his best to keep his face neutral as he checked his watch, knowing full well it had been less than two hours since Gregory’s last feeding. Like the monarchs of old, the Elder’s every move was carefully recorded, and save for times of extreme privacy, or the odd moment when an Elder managed to sneak away from his appointed handlers, those who needed to know were always privy to the Roman head’s every move.

“Will you perish before we make it back to the house?” Henry asked, one eyebrow arched witheringly, his original instinct on bringing a fledgling to the helm growing stronger the more he spent time with Gregory. Gregory, still under the delusion that he was the most powerful vampire in Rome now that he’d been put in the seat of power, merely glared and scoffed, following the older vampire’s lead nonetheless.

“You will respect me. I am your elder.”

“You’re my elder in the same way the Queen of England rules over Canada.”

Henry ignored the stares of the other coven members as they made their way back into the coven’s luxurious surroundings, wanting nothing more than the cleansing of steaming-hot water and perhaps a glass of ‘92 O negative to bring down his irritation. In truth, he wanted to go back to his place, to familiar surroundings and none of the constraints that being under the coven roof required.

“You have an hour to feed. Don’t dally,” Henry said in warning as he and Gregory split off in the upper hallway, his words intentionally quiet, lest someone’s prying ears pick up on how he was speaking to the Elder.

The shower in his chambers was nowhere near as pressurized as the one in his own home, and while the heat felt good, the rain-like trickle did little to bring Henry’s shoulders down from his ears. The blood--pulled from the source instead of one of the machines--did relax him, but the comfort of ritual was short-lived, as Henry finished, healed the young woman, and once more put on his suit to go fetch Gregory.

Were his blood still able to pump through his veins, Henry knew his would be boiling. Much as before, Gregory was in a state of disarray, his pants gone, white shirt stained with a mix of banked blood and Fares own recently-refreshed supply. Not saying a word, Henry merely went back the way he came, knowing it would be futile to continue the rest of the night’s lessons, when it was clear his pupil would pay no attention.

Irritated beyond reason, he left his feet guide him blindly, the cooler air of midnight doing little to ease the fire inside him. In his younger days, he’d have taken out his fury on the soft body of someone he’d fed from, someone already at death’s door. With age came wisdom and better murder investigations, so ending his life sources was no longer an option, and becoming a progenitor was out of the question. So, Henry did the next best thing; he walked.

After nearly an hour, he found his steps stopping in front of the carved doors of Romulus and strangely, the scent of Carla’s perfume eased his anger quicker than any other measure he normally employed. Careful not to use his full strength, Henry opened the door and stepped in, finding the main room as empty as it usually was near closing time.

“What can I...Hey!” Carla greeted, her smile warm and genuine, and without thinking, Henry finally dropped his shoulders, taking a seat and returning her smile with one of his own; his first all day.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #sanguine nocturnus #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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