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gojology · 4 years ago

Text

Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

You’re beginning to hate Satoru. Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it. People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders. You don’t particularly hate him for this, though. It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone. It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back. Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it. So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month. “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room. Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones. Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?” “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.” Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?” Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-” “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work? Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is. He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?” He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-” Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.” Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?” It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults. “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?” He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him. “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.” Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place. “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket. “Looks just like you.” he says. You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching- “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you. “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?” You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it.. “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh. “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low. “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.” “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you? “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.” His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness? “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.” “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?” Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.” “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?” Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself? “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?” “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped. By none other than his lips. They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this. You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything. ‧₊˚✩彡. “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door. Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse. “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes. “What the fuck.”

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danniburgh · 4 years ago

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Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck.

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

pedrito's perma list: @queenofthefaceless @northernpunk @pascalesque @sleep-tight1 @cheekygeek05 @bii-aan-ckaa @letaliabane @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorianalso @supernaturalgirl @metalarmsandmanbuns @purplepascal042 @asta-lily @greeneyedblondie44 @missswriter @juletheghoul @pedro-pastel @agirllovespancakes

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1 @alliterative-albatross @absurdthirst @thoughtfulpandawasteland @wifeofdindjarin @lank-sextburg @the-ginger-hedge-witch @helloannbananalove @diogodxlot @pascalslittlebrat @sarahjkl82-blog @pedritobalmando @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @mamacitapascal @dobbyjen @callsigncatfish @feminist-violinist @jasmincita @pascalove @eury-dice3 @gingaahhhh @athalien

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fan fic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

190 notes · View notes

suesheroll · 3 years ago

Text

Harry Styles eras as Mitski songs

Fetus Harry

Hopeless fkn romantic. This Notebook loving boy would definitely by Nobody by Mitski.

Look at him and tell me he didn’t dream of “One good honest kiss”, that he didn’t YEARN for “one good movie kiss” with the fireworks in his mind and the angel choir singing in his ear.

Frat boy Harry

He was definitely Your Best American Girl by Mitski.

This boy who wrote Just a Little Bit of Your Heart was HURT. Tell me you don’t see the link between

I know I'm not your only

But I'll still be a fool

'Cause I'm a fool for you

Vs Just a Little Bit of Your Heart

You're the one

You're all I ever wanted

I think I'll regret this

Prince hair Harry

This soft boy would definitely be Once More to See You by Mitski.

A song so reminiscent of Something Great by One Direction, it just pulls at your heart strings to think of this boy yearn to hold his love’s hand in public. To just “sit there and admire what he’s like”.

So come inside and be with me

Alone with me

Alone

If you would let me give you pinky promise kisses

Then I wouldn't have to scream your name atop of every roof in the city of my heart

Vs Something Great

I'll say we're better off together here tonight

I want you here with me

Like how I pictured it

So I don't have to keep imagining

Long Hair Harry

Hands down Two Slow Dancers by Mitski.

This boy was in his married era and Two Slow Dancers is all about a long term relationship where you just grow old with the person. He’s even with the same person going on 5 years by this time and he can’t imagine dying with anyone else beside him.

We're just two slow dancers, last ones out

HS1 Harry

Pink in the Night by Mitski 100%.

The guy who wrote Meet Me in the Hallway and From the Dining Table in the same fucking album just wants to “try again and again and again”

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again

Try again, and again, and again

And again, and again, and again

Vs Meet me in the Hallway

I gotta get better, gotta get better

And maybe we'll work it out

I glow pink in the night in my room

I've been blossoming alone over you

Vs From the Dining Table

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

Mmmmm gotta love those masturbation euphemisms.

Fine Line Harry

Definitely Strawberry Blonde by Mitski.

Not only is it her (only) upbeat song so far, but the melody really vibes with songs like Canyon Moon and Sunflower Vol. 6. The hint of Pining™ and Yearning™ also really reminds you of To Be So Lonely.

You tell me you love her;

I give you a grin

Oh all I ever wanted was a

Life in your shape

I picture it soft and I ache

Vs To Be So Lonely

I just hope you see me in a little better light

Do you think it's easy being of the jealous kind?

'Cause I miss the shape of your lips

You'll win, it's just a trick

And this is it, so I'm sorry

THIS IS ALL NONSENSE FROM MY BRAIN PLZ DONT TAKE IT SRSLY

19 notes · View notes

al3x1ss · 4 years ago

Text

Just a Friend to You

Chapter 5: Sports

“Y/N! COME GIVE MAMA A SMOOCHIE SMOOCH!”

Y/N pushes open the door with a small duffle bag hanging from her right shoulder to see Kaori and Yukie running at her. Yukie jumps on her, hugging her tightly while Kaori hugs her side, squeezing her stomach.

“You guys act like you didn’t see me yesterday.” Y/N says, rolling her eyes but smiling.

“IT FEELS LIKE WE HAVEN’T!”

“PLEASE BECOME MANAGER AGAIN WE ARE SUFFERING!”

At this point, hearing their two managers crying, the boys stop what they were doing, turning to see the “reunion” between the three girls, seeing Y/N smushed between Yukie and Kaori with a bored look on her face.

“Ya know it never gets boring to see them like that.”

Akaashi’s eyes lift to turn towards Bokuto, seeing him still looking ahead at the three. Akaashi turns his head back, once again looking at the girls. He sees Y/N trying to shove them off, laughing in his head but only a small smile appears on the outside.

“Apparently she was practicing really late last night, know anything about that?” Akaashi turns once again to see Bokuto look at him. Looking back at Y/N he remembers last night and all that occurred, slightly praying that his cheeks and ears don’t give any sort of reaction.

“No, why do you ask?”

“Just that she would’ve told you,” Bokuto shrugged, “while I’m your best friend, she’s your BESTEST friend!” Bokuto smiles at Akaashi, Akaashi giving him back a small smile, both boys turning back to see the girls finally off of Y/N’s body.

“Huh, yeah.”

Y/N places her bag by the wall, then walked towards to the bench so see the coach smiling at her.

“Hello again, L/N.”

“Hey coach, so, how are you guys surviving without me?”

“Ugh,” he puts a hand over his heart, acting in pain, “we’re suffering.” Y/N lets out a laugh, a chuckle following from the coaches mouth.

“In all seriousness, they’re doing very well. I’m surprised Bokuto is taking on the captain role so well, along with Akaashi as his right hand man. But, Akaashi is the one to get Bokuto out of his emo mode the quickest.” Coach says, Y/N nodding along, turning to see the boys practicing again doing spiking drills. Bokuto spiked a ball, it hitting the court then flying towards Yukie.

“eY WATCH IT”

“IM SOOOOOORRY YUKIEE”

Kaori started giggling, grabbing the ball and tossing it to Y/N.

“Y/N”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO I THOUGHT I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE RESTING” Y/N whined, stomping her feet like a 3 year old.

“OH BOO HOO SERVING DRILLS, NOW” Kaori said, coming to drag her by the wrist.

“I DONT WANNA” Y/N says, pulling back while everyone watches this unfold. She can hear Konoha basically wheezing at this point, and Yukie smacking something or someone whilst laughing.

Kaori let’s go of Y/N, letting her fall to the ground. She crosses arms and legs, still pouting, when she feels two hands lift her by the armpit.

“Come come.” Y/N struggles, Akaashi basically carrying her like a rag doll, Haruki recording the whole thing while Yamato laid on the gym floor.

Akaashi makes his way to the other side of the court, Y/N still wiggling. He plops her down, her arms crossed and her eyes staring up at him. He looks down at her with a smile, grabbing a stray ball and handing it to her. Y/N let’s out a sigh, her lips finally breaking into a small smile when Akaashi pats her head.

“JESUS AKAASHI WE GET IT WE’RE SINGLE GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKIN SECOND YEAR HAVING A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE I DO!” The pair turns to see Yamato still on the floor.

Y/N and Akaashi separate, a blush basically tap dancing on their faces with how red it was. Akaashi rubs the back of his neck and goes back to his side of the court. Y/N sighs, holding the ball in her left hand.

“You get 5 serves. If you miss any, you’re doing a flying lap. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The boys missed two of the five serves, Bokuto even screaming at one of them, but the boys just grumbled, sucking it up and doing their punishment. Kaori walked up to Y/N with Yukie, placing her arm around the other two girls.

“It’s insane how they still respect you, despite being younger than most of them.”

“You just gotta work them into shape, but they respect you two as well.” Y/N says, leaning her head onto Kaori’s hand.

“I honestly think Y/N puts the fear of god into them since they know she hits as hard as some of them can.” Yukie says, letting out a chuckle.

“Speaking of, what was that with Akaashi?” Y/N turns to the girls quickly, both of them now standing next to eachother smirking, their eyebrows constantly raising.

“THAT was him treating me like a 5 year old.”

“THAT was him basically confessing to you.”

“I-“

Y/N starts to cough, becoming red once again, Yukie and Kaori busting out laughing at the girl. Yukie sighs, grabbing the other girls hand and beginning to walk towards the bench with them.

“You just gotta do it when the time is right, although please sooner than later this is hurting my heart.” Y/N shakes her head, slightly giggling. She stands, signaling that she’s going to go refill her bottle.

As she waits for the bottle to fill, her phone dings.

Practice ended after another hour, the boys now cleaning up. Y/N sat with some chips as coach approached her once again.

“So, how’s your team coming along?”

“Well, their captain is a bitch, but they are confident that they’ll win tomorrow.” Y/N says, smiling up at him at he laughs.

“Maybe I’ll let off practice, let them see how they can actually play if they don’t fool around.” He says, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“Oh? I guess I never told you about us using the volleyball net as a race line-“

“yOu DID WHAT-“

After a brief scolding from coach, the boys came over, seeing that their old manager definitely still had a knack for giving their coach a headache.

“Practice tomorrow will be cancelled, however, I do suggest you going to see the girls game. Not only should we support them as much as they support us, but also I do want to see this one as a captain. I’m sure the now 2nd and 3rd years do as well.” The boys nodded along with what coach was saying, then turned to face you.

“Y/N!! Are you a super cool captain like me?”

“No.”

“BAHSHFBF” Bokuto’s hair fell while Kaori laughed, Yukie also laughing but trying to cheer up Bokuto by patting his back.

“I’m not a great captain, I do still fall on my ass, but we both are good captains, Bokuto,” Y/N says, walking up to him and holding out her hand, “No matter how many times we fail.”

Bokuto grabbed her hand, pulling her in for a hug, tears starting to form.

“AWWE Y/NNNNN”

“Since when the fuck were you so inspiring?”

“Yeah, usually you’d yell at us or tell yourself to “pick your ass off up the ground and cry about it at therapy.”

“HEY THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

“4 times actually.”

“I- COACH!”

Y/N and Konoha kept bickering, ending up with Konoha in a headlock and Y/N being pried off by Yamato and Akaashi. Y/N huffed, grabbing her bag along with everyone else, and locking up.

As she saw groups of people beginning to leave, she saw Keiji approach her.

“Let me walk you home today?”

“KEJEHTBT”

Y/N heard a squeal, turning to see Kaori repeatedly slapping Yukie’s arm in excitement, sighing, she turned back to face Akaashi with a smile on her face.

“Fine, but my feet hurt so you’re either taking my bag or we walk slow.”

“Or.”

“Or? What do you mean or-“

Akaashi bent over slightly, putting his bag on the ground. Y/N stared at him for a while, him obviously signaling for her to climb onto his back.

“N/N I swear to god you’re gonna give me scoliosis hurry the hell up”

Y/N climbed on, wrapping her legs around his middle and arms around his neck. He had his bag and hers draped across his shoulders as she laid her head on his back.

“Comfy?”

“Yessir, indeed!”

The two kept up chat whenever something came to mind, even showing him the picture Kaori managed to get of you guys while beginning your walk home. After a while, Y/N climbs off his back, only 5 minutes away from her house.

“Akaashi?”

“Yes N/N?” She sighs, brushing hair out of her eyes. While she debated on confessing tonight, a lot of signs were saying that it wasn’t the right time. Y/N could be anywhere with Keiji and it would be magical, but if he liked her back, she’d want it to be memorable for him as well.

“Are you gonna come to the game?”

“Of course, I want to see you spike some poor girls head again.”

“Kaaasshiiii” Y/N whined, swinging his hand in frustration.

“In all seriousness, it would be cool to see you kick someone else’s ass for once.” Y/N scoffed, giving Akaashi a light shove on his shoulder.

“That’s because you deserve it, asshole.” He scoffed back, placing a hand on his chest in offense.

“I’m the asshole?”

“Mhm!”

“Nu-uh!”

“Ya-huh!”

This went on for 3 full minutes. Bystanders stared at the pair arguing like children, meanwhile they looked like they could be college students.

“IT WAS THE OTHER DAY AKAASHI.”

“OH SO WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO PAINT MYSELF GREEN? I AM NOT THE MATERIAL ✨C A S H M O N E Y ✨ Y/N.”

Y/N wheezed, smacking Akaashi’s arm as they walked into her driveway, now realizing how dark it was since they probably took twice as long. Y/N sighed, the last few giggles escaping her lips. She looked at Keiji who had a toothy smile on his face, him already looking at her.

“Thank you for walking me home, Keiji.”

“Anytime, N/N.”

Y/N sighed, turning to walk to her door.

“Y/N?”

This mf better not confess right now it was a really good time-

He lifted his arms, making grabby hands at her, Y/N’s head tilting in confusion. She makes her way back over to him, coming into close proximity. He wraps his arms around her waist, turning to stuff his face into her neck. Y/N tenses up, then relaxes, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What’s this for, Keij?” Y/N releases Akaashi, looking up at him. He turns, beginning to walk away, but turns back to face her.

“Cuz I’m a lonely bitch, Y/N. Jesus get your mind out of the gutter. Premarital hugging? Never.” Akaashi keeps a straight face, Y/N staring back at him to see who breaks first. However, they break at the same time, laughing loudly once again. After a few seconds, the lights on Y/N’s porch flickers 3 times, signaling its time for her to come in. As she goes to go up the stairs, she runs back to him a third time.

Y/N stands on her tippy toes, kissing Akaashi on the cheek, slowly sinking down.

“Thank you once again, Keiji.”

As she finally starts to go up the stairs, Y/N turns her head to face him once again, giving him a small wave which he returns.

She makes her way into the house, slipping off her shoes and running up to her room, falling backwards on her bed with a huge smile on her face.

“Heh, cute.”

Notes

Y/N likes Akaashi

This is not the first time Yukie has called herself mama Yes Y/N has called herself daddy

The girls attacking eachother was a usual occurrence

Bokuto DOES know that Akaashi was there with her, but just wanted to see what he would say

Coach would make Y/N do serving drills last year so that while she skipped her own practice, she was still practicing

Y/N thought the plural of goose was gooses, hence the GC name

This is not based on a true story please do not call me out I BEG 😀✊

Atsumu flirts with Y/N for fun, nothing serious

Everyone has pet names for Y/N, while Y/N just calls them “gooses” as a collective group

Osamu calls Y/N “doll” because the first movie they watched together was “Captain America: The First Avenger”

Osamu does NOT like Y/N

Y/N did not actually use the net as a race line

Akaashi is a VERY calm person around everyone and around Y/N, but once in a while Akaashi does get on the chaotic levels of Y/N, even if it just for a few minutes

Akaashi walked home with his hand on his cheek

Y/N squealed at 1am, remember Akaashi doing the grabby hands so he could get a hug

Y/N also realized that she had kissed Akaashi on the cheek as a moment of boldness Yes, she called the girls and Kuroo

Back to Masterlist

C. 4 <- C. 5 -> C. 6

Taglist: @winunk @kurushiisaboss @lexysclubhouse @haikyuu-appreciation-club @pumpkiethepie @mint-mai @writingfreakk @tendousfingertape5 @bbyouamazin @navymacaroons @helloalex80 @heavenini @tchalameme @foxxtrot-116 @kageyamasgirl @noya-sleftankle @mariachiii @rory-cakes @sailorstrawberi @iidanotlida @animeflower26 @anngelllla @kneekoteen @reina-de-tay

Leave a message, comment, or an ask if you want to be added!

If you enjoy, please reblog! They help a lot 🖤

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji smau #akaashi smau #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader smau #akaashi keiji x reader smau #haikyuu smau #smau #hq!!#hq!! smau #hq smau #haikyuu oc #akaashi keiji #Just a friend to you

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outro-tearist · 3 years ago

Text

paws of paradise - chapter 3 {bangtan ot7 x reader}

hi!!!!!!!! it's been a little longer than i thought to update this, but here it is! it's also summer so updates hopefully will be more frequent as i dont have school to worry about!

as per usual, i'd appreciate comments, thoughts, suggests, anons, anything! have a great day!

~silver🤍🌙

chap 1 chap 2 chap 3

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Thinking.

That was what (Y/N) was doing, and had been doing for the past- How long had it been? The coldness that crept up onto Jimin had only happened yesterday, but the guilt overwhelmed her the more that she had thought about it. It felt like the incident had happened days ago when all she could think about was the crestfallen look Jimin had given her before he raced out of her shop.

It wasn’t his fault that he looked at Taehyung like he hung the stars in the sky. He was a gorgeous man, not to mention the genuine kindness he had shown any person he came across. It was hard to admit, but she had been very obviously jealous. Not only did that embarrass her, but it also made her feel worse for thinking those awful things about a dog owner just wanting to get his precious baby’s hair cut.

She decided to close the shop for today, officially saying she “needed more supplies”, but privately she knew she would not be able to focus.

Oh my god, Yoongi definitely saw her acting like a fool too! The blood that had flooded her cheeks seemed to swirl restlessly even more, just begging to be noticed and called out. He luckily hadn’t mentioned anything, probably to spare the shame she would feel in the moment.

Poor Jimin… He hadn’t done anything.... (Y/N) was being selfish and she recognized it as soon as they made eye contact. His appearance had startled her.

“Jimin! Hey..” (Y/N) started nervously as she saw the man enter through the back door like he usually did. He seemed shocked that he had been found so quickly, but awkwardly smiled back at his coworker.

“Oh. Yeah, hey.” Jimin said shortly. His curt tone had honestly hurt (Y/N) a little bit, but she took in a small breath and persevered.

‘It’s your fault he’s being distant,’ a horrible voice whispered in the back of her head. ‘He deserves more than you, someone better… someone more like Taehyung.’ It whispered again.

“I am so sorry about yesterday… I didn’t mean to dismiss you like that, I just- well, I got some bad news?” her last sentence sounded more like a question than an excuse, but Jimin had obviously softened after hearing her jittery voice.

“(Y/N), it’s not a problem. It did hurt my feelings, but I’m glad you’re telling me this now. I wish you would’ve told me earlier, but I won’t force you to tell me anything you don’t want to,” his smooth voice had felt like honey to her ears, slowly melting all her fears and anxieties that she had about not being forgiven.

Unfortunately, they quickly appeared again when rethinking her shitty excuse.

How was she supposed to explain that the “bad news” she had received was watching the man in front of her look so happy with someone else? It was an awful excuse and Jimin might be worried about her. (Y/N) would have to tell Jimin more about it later, she figured. All she had cared about at this point was just to get on speaking terms with her crush-- no. Her coworker.

“Thank you so much. Seriously. I don’t know what I would do without you, Jiminie.” (Y/N) tried to express her sincerity, but she was never the best with words anyways. It was all that she could muster up even with her head clogged with the image of Taehyung and Jimin practically glowing as they stared at each other.

Still, Jimin could seemingly read into her soul, knowing that she was as genuine as she could be through her words. She could not take her eyes off his kind eyes and perfectly shaped eyebrows and structured face and plump lips and...

“You know I’d do anything to help you, honey. All you need to do is to say the words.”

Pulse quickening and face warming, (Y/N) knocked herself out of her trance once the word “honey” had left Jimin’s lips. Maybe this little work crush was turning out to be a little bigger than she thought…

She giggled like an airhead in response, and if Jimin had seen the bright flush that had spread across her face and neck, he didn’t show any signs other than a slight smirk.

“This is kinda sudden, but um… Can I hug you?” (Y/N) shyly asked. If Jimin’s excited face said anything, the warm hug that had enveloped her completely confirmed everything she thought she saw.

He gently cradled her head in one hand as his other arm pulled her into his surprisingly built chest from the shoulders. He smelled of vanilla and another gentle sweet scent that (Y/N) couldn't put her finger on. It didn’t matter now. What did matter, though, was the feeling of Jimin’s head digging into the top of her head and how he deeply inhaled. Letting out a content hum, (Y/N) wrapped both her arms around his waist and snuggled into the crook of his neck.

“Out of curiosity… where did you have to go yesterday?” (Y/N) asked into Jimin’s neck. He shivered for a split second, before responding:

“Oh, Taehyung asked me if I wanted to spend the day together. That’s why I popped in yesterday, he told me we could meet up in the shop then grab some food or someth- is everything okay?” Jimin’s perplexed and concerned voice inquired above her.

As soon as he said Taehyung, (Y/N) froze up. He skipped work, where he would be with her and the cute dogs and be getting paid, just to see Taehyung.

‘It doesn’t mean that much,’ she tries to reassure herself. ‘He’s just wanting to see possibly the most gorgeous man you have ever seen in your life. It means nothing.’

‘Liar. He doesn’t want to hang out with you.’ The mean voice in her head spat back.

“(Y/N)?” Jimin tried to pull away and bent down to see her face. “Was it something I said?”

“NO! I mean, no. I’m just. Glad you got to get out for the day. How was it?” (Y/N) forced herself to smile and look back into Jimin’s furrowed eyebrows.

“I guess it was good, but I was still pretty worried about you. Are you sure you’re okay…?” Jimin tried again, but (Y/N) shook her head defiantly.

“Yes, I’m sure I’m good right now. Give me the juicy deets about you and Tae yesterday!” (Y/N) once again forced herself into the supportive best friend role. Jimin deserves a great person to be with him, and if that person is Kim Taehyung before it’s her, she will help her coworker in any way she could.

(Why did it hurt so much when she referred to Jimin as her coworker?)

A blush formed its way across his cheeks as he thought about the patience his TaeTae showed him after he was swamped with thoughts of (Y/N) and if she was ok.

“It was really nice… he’s a great guy and I really like being with him. He just- he gets me in ways I feel like nobody else does, y’know?” Jimin softly admits as he finds a seat next to one of the grooming stations.

(Y/N) feels faint. She basically crumbles onto the ground right in front of Jimin. She looks up at him expectantly, waiting for more information that would completely destroy her heart.

‘That was you. You were the person who got me as nobody else has.’ She thought somberly, wishing she could voice out her feelings to Jimin. ‘Was I not enough?’

“He’s so patient and understanding and… I could talk about him all day,” Jimin sighs dreamily as he rests his beautiful cheek into his palm, “It might be a little soon, but I think he might be my soulmate.”

(Y/N) physically recoiled. This was the slap in her face that she had been expecting, but him voicing his feelings was like a horrible moment of finality. She tried to play her flinch off as getting dog hair off her clothes, and Jimin hadn’t even thought twice about it.

Fuck. That cut way too deep, way more than she had prepared for. She keeps her head low so Jimin can’t try to make any eye contact.

“I’m really happy for you Jiminie.” (Y/N) says dully, but with some sincerity. “You seem to be so much happier when he’s around. You deserve this.”

Jimin’s adorable teeth flashed at her as a full smile graced his already perfect face. “You really think so? Wait, is it that obvious?!”

“You look at each other like you’re meant to be. You two must be soulmates!” (Y/N) grits out despite the tears wanting to well. “You have to tell him and let me know what happens!!”

“I’m gonna call him and see if he wants to hang out again tonight! You’re the best, honey, I love you!” he shouts as he runs out of the back.

She can’t even manage a response as she walks to the back door, shuts it, and locks it.

(Y/N) can’t see straight. She can’t think straight either, as she whips out her cell phone and dials the first contact she sees on her phone. She hadn’t even meant to call anyone, truly, but it was too late to stop her sluggish mind from pressing onto a name.

“Hello?” Min Yoongi answers the phone. A response doesn’t come, except for a loud sniffle and another sob. “(Y/N)-ssi? What’s wrong?”

The dog groomer barely knows this man, how he even got into her contacts was beyond her, but all she wanted was somebody next to her.

“Can you- can- come here please? The shop?” (Y/N) barely got the words out of her sore throat but Yoongi seems to understand them.

“I- Ok, I’ll be there in about 10 minutes. Do you want to stay on the line with me?” he asks the sobbing girl gently. His soft voice was soothing and nice, but it didn’t matter much.

She couldn’t respond. Her head was filled with three words. Three words that meant so much that hurt so much just because of the context.

I love you.

Taunting and repeating in her head for seemingly hours, until the front door jingled. She saw Yoongi burst into the store quickly and that was the last thing she saw before she closed her puffy and swollen eyes.

#bts #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #bts hoseok #bts rm #bts jhope #bts suga #bts jin #bts v #bangtan boys

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free-pancakes · 4 years ago

Text

the commander’s voice

LeviHan - a canonverse oneshot

Characters: Levi, Hange, Onyankopon, Jean, Armin, Sasha, Mikasa

Summary: Onyankopon gifts Hange a vinyl record player from Marley, and Levi uses it to help the dear Commander find a small moment of respite among her stressful duties.

Notes: Hange has been really sad lately in the anime, so here's a happy Hange oneshot. The song Hange sings is called “Mrs." by Leon Bridges

crossposted to AO3

The Commander’s Voice

Hange gripped her fingers gently around small cup of tea in her hands—she smiled softly as the warmth caressed her fingertips and the earthy aroma tickled her nose. She took a small sip, and stole a quick glance at Levi, searching for signs of his approval.

A tiny flicker in his warm, grey eyes signaled his liking. To everyone else in the room, Levi maintained an unreadable glare, but Hange knew better. She playfully tapped his foot with her own, with a sly smile plastered on her face. Levi returned the gesture with a swift kick to her shin.

Hange was already accustomed to arguing under the table like this, and quickly bit her tongue to keep herself from yelping out in pain. She quietly grumbled as he smirked behind the cup he held up to his lips. He hated when she could see right through him like that—but he supposed it wasn’t an entirely bad skill for someone around here to have.

“Is it up to your standards, Levi? It’s only the finest tea from Marley! I only have a few boxes stashed away with me.” Onyankopon looked towards Levi earnestly for a reaction, but per usual, his genuine friendliness was met with a blank stare. Hange had convinced Onyankopon to share the tea with their little group today, hoping it would convince Levi to trust their allies a bit more, and she panicked at Levi's seemingly negative reaction.

“No, no, Onyankopon, Levi thinks it’s delightful! Thank you for sharing it with us,” Hange said with a bright smile.

Happy conversation buzzed around them in the large tent, but their table was jarringly silent. Hange, Levi, Jean, Armin, and Onyankopon had a long day of planning their strategies moving forward, but since they finished earlier than expected, they thought they’d sit together, talk, and relax a bit. Sitting and relaxing clearly wasn’t an issue, but maybe they had too little in common to really have a casual chat.

The silence gripped fiercely at Hange’s sides, and it felt as though it was trying to squeeze words out of her— it was absolutely unbearable. She had to break the silence, and at least attempt to get these socially incompetent fools to talk to each other.

“Hey Onyankopon, can you possibly tell me the name of this song? I kept hearing it play on one of your comrade’s radios a few weeks ago!” Hange closed her eyes as she tried to remember the melody, and she flawlessly hummed the tune, filling in a few lyrics that she could recall here and there. The sound resonated in her chest, and the tenseness in her shoulders relaxed as singing this song made her ridiculously happy. She wondered if it was the song that made her feel that way or if it was simply the person that seemed to permeate her thoughts whenever she hummed it to herself while working alone in her office.

She opened her eyes, and cocked her head to the side in confusion at the sight. All of Onyankopon’s Marleyan comrades around them were turned, facing their table, all eyes on her. Armin turned to look at Jean, whose jaw dropped at the sound of Hange singing, and nudged him. “Jean, come on, you’re making the Commander uncomfortable.”

“What? Levi, what is everyone—“ she shifted in her seat, embarrassed at the sudden and unwavering attention on her. Before she could see Levi’s reaction, he was standing up, glaring at everyone in the room. “Oi, what are all you nosy scumbags staring at? Have some respect for the Commander,” he hissed with a threatening tone, evoking fear in all the people in the room. The sound of talking and commotion resumed quickly, maybe even louder than before as no one wanted to further anger the formidable Levi Ackerman.

“Wait hold on a second, why did everyone just—“

“It’s because you have a beautiful voice, Hange-san, I don’t think any of us have ever heard you sing before actually…” Armin whispered softly, with a bashful, yet encouraging smile on his face.

Hange felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she looked down at her hands, twiddled her thumbs, and let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I um, sorry. I guess I don’t usually do that...in public. My apologies.”

Onyankopon gently touched Hange’s hand—“I know exactly what song you referenced. Here, how about you all go get some sleep, and I’ll give you something special regarding the song in the morning, okay?” He gave her a reassuring look, and Hange felt more at ease. They saluted each other, and four Paradisians retreated to their tents for the night.

————- “Hange-san, here you go—It’s all ready for you!” Onyankopon held a large, box-shaped device in his hands, along with what looked like colorful cardboard envelopes on top of it. He set it down on the table as Hange, Armin, Levi, and Jean hovered around it.

Hange and Armin bent down to observe the object closely, opening its lid to reveal a flat surface with a small spoke in the middle, and a metal arm jutting across with a small needle on its end. The two eyed each other, both utterly fascinated at the intricate device.

“This here is a vinyl record player, and I picked out a few songs along with the one you told us about last night. I marked that one, and wrote out the lyrics for you!” he exclaimed with a grin.

Hange’s eyes glowered at the wonderful gift, and couldn’t help but give him a warm hug.

Levi walked towards the two, inserting his arm between them, cutting their embrace short. “Okay it’s time to go, Commander,” Levi said curtly as he guided her shoulder towards the horses.

“Levi, wait it’s still early, we have a lot of time to—“

“Until next time, Onyankopon,” he muttered with a glare and gave a half-hearted salute. He grumbled as he hurried Hange away, while she tried to wave back at Onyankopon. Armin and Jean looked at each other trying to stifle laughter at the scene—Armin took the record player and vinyls, and nodded at Onyankopon. “Sorry about that sir, I assume you already know how that goes...”

“Yeah, the Captain’s pretty protective over Hange-san, isn’t he?”

“Yeah you could say that,” Jean said with a small laugh. He waved goodbye, and the two hurried towards the horses, as it seemed Levi and Hange were already set to leave.

————- Levi sipped at the tea Onyankopon sent them home with. He sat alone at a table, listening to the 104th crew talk and laugh animatedly a few tables away, bickering and yelling as they finished up their dinner. He hated to admit how relaxed he felt seeing them having fun like that—it reminded him a lot of how he, Hange, Erwin, Mike, and Nanaba used to be with each other years ago. He sighed and stood up with purpose—Hange skipped dinner again. He brought a sandwich with him as he silently slipped out of the mess hall and made his way to the Commander’s office.

He saw the glowing light spilling into the hallway through the slightly cracked-open door, and pushed it—he was met with bright light, both literally and figuratively. He looked at Hange busy writing, not even noticing him walk in and close the door.

He gently slid the sandwich towards her, and she slightly jumped in her seat, startled. “You gotta warn me when you walk in sometimes, yknow??”

“Eat, and meet me outside. The usual spot.”

“I have a lot of work to finish up! I don’t think I can take a break right now—“

Levi placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, his eyes softening as he stared into hers. She returned his gaze, and he didn’t need to say a word for her to understand. She gave in.

“Okay, fine, fine. You’re right. It’s been awhile since I’ve taken a step back, hasn’t it...”

————- Hange stepped out into the clearing behind the barracks, the light of the moon melting over the cover the trees and illuminating the blades of grass beneath her feet. She heard a small scratching noise, and suddenly...music played. She turned the corner and saw Levi sitting on the ground with the record player. She skipped over happily and knelt down next to him. “Isn’t it amazing? You don’t have to wait on the radio for a song you like to play! You can just play the same song you like, over and over again whenever you want.” She stared at the spinning vinyl excitedly, and Levi looked at her, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. After they listened to the one song, Levi picked up the other vinyls—“Hey, so which one of these was the song you sang to us that night, the one that got that whole damn room staring at you?” Hange smiled shyly and felt herself blush. She reached over and pulled the specific record from the pile in Levi’s hands.

Inside the barracks, Jean, Armin, and Sasha walked down the back hallway on the second floor, exhausted. Suddenly, they heard...music? Jean and Armin made eye contact, and ran towards the sound. “Hey, wait up! What’s going on??” Sasha yelled. The two barged into the room where the sound was echoing through the loudest. Mikasa was sitting on her bed, folding her clothes calmly, unphased by the two breaking in. She gave them both a mostly blank stare, but a tiny hint of a questioning lingered in her gaze.

“Hey, rude! Dont just go barging into our room like that!”

“Shut up, Sasha! Listen!” Jean whispered aggressively. The calming sound filled the room through their window facing the clearing among the trees behind the barracks.

“Onyankopon said that sound is one of something called... an electric guitar?” Armin said quietly. The wonderful sound made them oddly want to sway, along with the mellow, waltzing backbeat of the drums underlying this so-called electric guitar.

“Hange-san sung this song to us at our last meeting with the ally Marleyans.”

“She...sang?” Mikasa asked, almost confused at the idea of Hange singing.

“Hold on, listen, listen!” Jean said in a hushed tone. The four of them pressed their faces up against the window, and spotted the Commander and Captain standing together out in the grass below, their figures shrouded by the white glow of the full moon.

“You really like the tea, and the record player. It was genuinely kind of him to share that with us—so why can’t you trust our allies?” Hange asked, an innocently questioning look in her eyes.

“You never know, Hange. It’s good to be a bit skeptical of them for now. But, let’s forget about that.” She felt Levi’s fingers search her skin for the ties of her medal, a symbol of her role as the Commander. He untied it, slipped it off from her neck, and placed it gently into the grass next to the record player.

“Tonight, you’re relieved of your Commander duties. Right now, you’re just Hange.” Hange lost herself in the soft grey sea dancing in his eyes, and fought back tears at Levi’s gesture, his attempt to help her feel like... feel like Hange again. The Commander role often seemed to strip her of the privilege to be simply, and unapologetically, herself.

He took her left hand, interlaced his fingers in hers, and gently placed his other hand behind her right hip. He slowly pulled her close, and she closed her eyes, finally relaxed from her duties, nearly melting in his embrace. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, and he felt even, puffs of breath from her nose on his skin—keeping him warm in the cool night breeze. He swayed her back and forth, and she followed his lead.

“Why do you like this song, anyway?”

“Because... the lyrics make me think of us a bit, Levi.”

His eyes widened at her words, and he wanted to listen closer now—and suddenly he had an idea.

“Can you sing it to me?”

Hange lifted her head abruptly, staring straight into Levi’s face. “So you did like my singing! I was wondering about that—sad I didn’t get to see your reaction.”

He was relieved she didn’t see his face in that moment—he had never felt so vulnerable. Her singing made his knees weak.

“Hmph. It wasn’t bad, four-eyes.”

The four watched the two start dancing, and when the sound of Hange quietly singing reached Sasha and Mikasa’s room, Sasha squealed in excitement. “Hey Armin, wanna dance too?” She gave him a big, goofy grin, and he agreed with a laugh. Jean turned to Mikasa, bowed slightly and reached out his hand, “May I have this dance, m’lady?” She let out a smile at his dumb little gesture, and took his hand.

They all couldn’t help but smile at the sound of their Commander’s voice along with the calming song as they swayed around the room—it was nice to forget about the weight of the world for a little bit.

She sang the whole song softly into Levi’s ear along with the record, singing one part a little louder than the rest:

“Sometimes I wonder why I went knockin' on your door. Then you come knock, knock, knockin' on mine and I remember—I remember how it felt the first few times. Skin-to-skin before you knew how to get under mine. If we get it, get it right... we'll be together for life.”

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and he felt her lips curve into a smile against his skin.

The two heard Jean, Armin, Sasha, and Mikasa's laughter from the only window with the lights on in the barracks.

“Looks like we aren’t the only ones enjoying the night,” Hange whispered happily.

Levi smiled. “Hey, can you sing the song again for me?”

“Of course. But only if you join me!” She playfully shoved Onyankopon’s lyric sheet into his chest. Levi grumbled in reluctance, but he gave in.

They let the song replay over and over again as they continued to dance and sing to each other, late into the cool, starry night.

#if yall only knew how soft this song makes me #and the idea of levihan dancing to this #*chefs kiss*#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levihan fanfic #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #onyankopon #jean kirschstein #armin arlert #sasha braus #mikasa ackerman #snk #aot

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saltwatersweetner · 4 years ago

Text

End Me

Eren x Reader

A Prequel of Sorts. Eren never fought for control preferring the security of your hold on him but you could never fully domesticate a wild animal it seemed.

Part 1 Part 3

CW: Manipulation, Toxic Relationship, Attempted Murder, Unhealthy coping mechanisms all in all mildly unsettling themes.

Eren knew how to be good—painfully so. He also knew how to be bad—concerningly so. He was a creature of habit. He did whatever he decided was best for him at the moment and maybe thats what lead you to your current stare down.

“Eren I said move.”

“Fuck what you said.”

Frowning you tried to think what honestly could have brought this mood upon him. It couldn’t have been because you were going out he always understood your random need to socialize. You also can’t remember purposefully setting him off, not in the mood and you weren’t completely cruel to ignore his random—even for him mood change—more in tune to your partners mood swings and emotions than you were to you own.

Carefully reaching out for him you raise an eyebrow when he moves away from your—for now—gentle touch “Are you really upset or just being a brat?”

“Stop talking to me.”

Huffing you choose to ignore his attitude and slip your coat over your shoulders just in time for a knock to be heard from the front door. With Eren on your heels you open the door for your friend.

“Y/N I called but you didn’t answer so I just came up.”

You get a flashback of Eren throwing a tantrum not even 30 minutes ago and launching your device from you 6th floor apartment “Yeah I dropped my phone off the balcony but lets go—Eren be good.”

His glare turns even more deadly when Reiner politely wraps an arm around your shoulders. Closing the door behind you Reiner laughs into the quiet hall “Be good? What is he your dog?”

“Something like that.”

Reiner was a friend an attractive one at that and Eren didn’t like it at all. He hated anyone that was even remotely close to you because you already didn’t like anyone but with Reiner it was different. You let him touch you and hold you.

Eren hated it, he hated it so much—and to make matters worse you didn’t care about his feelings—not one bit.

After a night of bar hopping and watching Bertholdt make a fool of himself in front of Annie, Reiner once again brought you home.

“It was nice seeing you, without your guard dog.” The face he made at the thought of Eren wasn’t a nice one.

“Aw sweetheart don’t be mean.” Reaching up you hold his warm cheek in your slightly chilled hand.

You knew jealousy when you saw it, could detect the slightest change of emotion when it was presented to you. He leans into your hold like a cat seeking out affection—much different than Eren’s wild way of seeking you out.

“Don’t be jealous my dear use your words.”

Reiners face was slowly moving closer to yours and you smirk in amusement. It would seem you had a knack for catching the attention for boys who were looking to be controlled.

“Y/N....”

Your door swings open before Reiner can kiss you and Eren is looking beyond livid. Reiner freezes his fight or flight telling him to run but you keep him steady with your palm.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Eren’s nod is slow and deliberate his eyes still glaring at the nonexistent space between you and the blond.

“Then that ends our time together, goodnight Reiner.” He shivers in what you think is glee from the acknowledgment of the time you spent with him.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t acknowledge Eren any longer and hurries out to the elevator.

Turning back to the aforementioned boy you make a motion with your wrist “Move.”

When he eventually does get out of your way your hyper aware of the way he sticks to you almost like glue. Throwing your coat over the back of your couch you stretch and lead him to the kitchen.

“You hungry? All I’ve done is drink tonight I could really eat—“

He swings you into the wall by the neck. The alcohol in your system made it incredibly difficult to feel the pain you knew was blossoming up your back so all you could do was stare at the man before you.

You saw the endless sea of madness that unlike you he didn’t bother to cover up. Everyone found the look endearing on him like he never left that childishness behind but you knew the truth.

You could slowly feel yourself starting to suffocate. You didn’t bother panicking because as it had it Eren had all the power right now. If he or you moved the wrong way your neck was as good as snapped.

“Why did you let him touch you?”

Putting a calm hand on his wrist you try and fail to alleviate some of the pressure being forced down on your windpipe “Why. Does. It. Matter.”

Eren was breathing unevenly stuck between fighting his impulses and actually causing some damage “You’re mine you’re—you’re not supposed to—“

“Says. Who?” That makes him let go.

As it would have it you and Eren weren’t dating in any shape or form but he belonged to you. You brought him pleasure that he couldn’t find anywhere else. He was entirely devout to you and you only, all on his own fruition. From the moment he’d accidentally bumped into you and saw through the mask you wore. From the moment he stalked you from the moment he’d shown himself to you begging for salvation.

He wanted to play the game—wanted to be entertained in the morbid way regular people would get sick to their stomachs at—and you let him. You found him amusing enough to keep around but you refused to belong to anyone but yourself.

He was losing the game and fast. As his god you couldn’t be bothered with feeling bad for him.

“Now we can eat or you can sit here and starve whats it gonna be?”

Eren looked terribly unwell like he was about to fold in on himself “u-um eat please.”

You’d never seen him look so unsure before and it made you excited. How would he cry for you next? Would he try to fight more, yell and scream? Or would it be silent and broken?

Flicking your wrist you busy yourself in the kitchen “Good choice, go sit.”

He does as he’s told mumbling words to himself along the way. Was it cruel? Maybe. But you couldn’t be bothered considering how much of a thorn in your side he’d been all day.

You wanted to break him more and till he was nothing but crushed up stars slipping away in the wind. You almost felt bad for how much you were going to ruin him.

But he was your property after all to do with what you wanted. No one could stop you even if they tried. Especially because he let you and thats what made keeping him around so worth it.

You didn’t have the capability of feeling anything close to love no matter how fond of the boy you actually were. So you settled with ownership—they were damn near synonymous anyways.

So you proceeded as normal—well as normal as you are. You order the food you feed him and you move on to wash the dishes. He’d eventually get out of his feelings because he didn’t have the mental capacity to dwell on certain emotions for too long. It was all but routine now.

“Eren bring me whatever dishes you left lying around.”

“...ok.”

Filling the sink with a mixture of water soap and a drop of bleach you wait patiently for the boy to bring what you requested. Turning off the tap You almost get impatient when it seemed like he was taking forever.

“Eren—“ you’re grabbed by the back of the head and shoved face first into the sudsy water.

You try with all your strength to get your head out of the sink but Eren just doesn’t stop. He’d never...hurt you before? Never acted out in this manner it startled you maybe.

And you were slowly but surely drowning.

When he finally does let you up you drop to the floor taking in large gulps of air. Your eyes stung from the mix of bleach and soapy water and you were suddenly freezing.

“Dont,” you look up to eren to see he once again wore that livid expression.

“Dont you ever think about leaving me do you understand?” His breathing was already heavy but now it was slowly turning into hyperventilation. “I’ll kill you I’ll fucking kill you if you ever l-leave me.”

You watched him begin to sob, dropping on his knees he crowded closer to you looking every bit of the victim he made himself.

“Im sorry I’m good I’ll be good I swear!” He tries to touch you but you smack his hands away making him sob harder.

You knew Eren you knew him. His inclination of violence had never been towards you and yet?

“Hit me hit me hit me im sorry please im good I promise.”

Those were the only words that made sense to you in the moment. You were a violent creature by nature one who prioritized your own life before anyone else’s, you’ve never done anything you didnt doubt you’d be able to get out of and yet? Eren had surprised you and not in a good way.

Your eyes come back into focus and you see the pitiful look he wore as if he hadn’t just almost killed you “Hit me please?”

And so you do.

You punch him right in the face with all your strength causing him to fly back against the tiles and you don’t stop there. You let out all the frustration from your near death experience out onto his body completely aware of the blissed out smile he now sported.

Regardless your mind was going 1 million miles per hour as one thing became clear. Eren was slipping out of your control and fast. One day you feared he’d be the one in control and that wasn’t a game you wanted to play.

You’re in control.

You were IN control

You not him.

You.

You freeze. Fist inches from his face.

It was like your body was in forced reboot you couldn’t move your thoughts finally spiraled too far and too fast for you to reach.

You weren’t in control?

Starring at the needy expression on his face you came to the horrific realization that maybe you’d been playing in his hands all this time. He’d been able to get anything he ever wanted out of you—he knew it too.

Did you really—no you couldn’t be right?

“I’m good see?”

Wrong—you were in so fucking deep.

Slowing your breathing you lower your once trembling fist “Get. Out.”

“Huh?”

Climbing off his chest you wipe the remaining water off your face “Get the fuck out I dont wanna see you.”

Eren hadn’t expected this outcome considering how hurt he looked “B-but where am I supposed to go?”

It was a stupid question you both knew he had his own dorm to himself but he’d been so used to sleeping with you every night that he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Rolling your eyes you til your head “I dont care.”

“I cant sleep without you.”

“Cry about it.”

Hauling his shocked form up and out of your home you slam the door shut and immediately turn all three locks ignoring his soft cries from the other side.

Pulling at your wet shirt you could feel the breakdown coming. How did he do it? How’d he make your carefully crafted control snap?

Going into your room you lock that door as well before snatching the throw blanket from the end of your bed and a pillow. Going into your walk-in closet you close the door behind you and navigate in the dark to the farthest corner and sit.

You sit and sit and sit and sit and sit...and then you scream.

You scream until your lungs are raw and your voice is gone and you’re not sure when exactly you started scratching at your face but the stinging thats left behind is brutal.

You needed to think.

You needed a plan.

You needed—fuck you didnt know.

But you did know Eren was about to become a much bigger problem.

#eren yaegar #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #aot x gn!reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #snk imagines #snk x reader #reiner x y/n #gn!reader

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leerongrong · 5 years ago

Text

[1:59] the need to throw your phone across the room grows every second best friend!jaemin doesn’t reply to your messages, the last message you sent was 30 minutes ago and he still hasn’t replied. you figure his phone’s notification must be broken from the amount of date outfit photos you sent, now you're starting to regret trusting his gut to choose the outfit picnic date!jisung would like the most.

the day has been perfect, blue clouds and warm weather to accommodate the date jisung asked you out on just a week ago. said boy had planned the day out for weeks, only gathering enough courage to ask you the week prior. he had shyly reminded you again of your date yesterday, to bring some dessert and to meet him at the river. you’d asked him whether you needed to dress nicely or not and his answer was, “you always look pretty no matter what you wear.” with a heavy blush on his cheeks that made you blush too.

you had finished your hair and makeup roughly an hour ago and you’ve planned on either wearing a dress or a skirt, both options seemed uncomfortable as you'll be sitting down the whole time and you'll dread washing the grass stains but you still feel the need to impress your date.

“finally!” jaemin’s specially saved ringtone played on your phone, the melody very catchy and you'd found out it was one of his songs, you pressed the accept button immediately. “nana, i’m gonna be late!”

“i know, i know,” he gushes, "i just finished lecturing jisung- he wanted to wear a hoodie on your date! can you believe it?”

“na jaemin, i will literally spread your netflix password if you don't pick from one of the photos right now.”

“wear the skirt. jisung likes skirts.”

the adrenaline’s still running high in your system the moment you arrive. the river is tranquil with not many people there, just a few sitting on benches and some cycling near the park. the river is flowing smoothly as it should, with countless trees planted around it in purpose of giving shade from the sunlight and under one of them, you spot jisung.

the boy’s laid out on an open mat and while he is facing the other way, you can clearly see him twiddling with his fingers and you giggle, glad that you’re not the only one nervous for this date. you walk slowly onto the grass, hands on your skirt so that it doesn’t go flying when the wind blows. you see a picnic basket in front of jisung, multiple types of food surrounding him and a stereo speaker on his lap.

“hi.” jisung’s head snaps up at the moment your voice hits his ears, getting up quickly on his feet to greet you with his own smile. “hey.”

you’re changing positions ever so often the moment you plop down while music plays for the both of you, the melody sweet and gentle as you try to eat in peace, conversation and banter flowing like the river in your view. jisung’s hands are twitching and you wonder if he’s uncomfortable with your endless moving. “do you want to use my hoodie?”

“what?”

“you look uncomfortable in you skirt.” his cheeks are pink and he avoids eye contact while rummaging his backpack, hands popping back into view along with a gray hoodie. “i thought it’d be helpful.”

“thank you, sung.” your plates are placed on the ground while you reach out to take his hoodie, both of your hands brushing for a moment and you blush at the contact. you’re quick to hide your face as you pretend to busy yourself with putting his hoodie on your lap while he’s quick to avert his gaze to the laptop in his backpack.

multiple people pass along the both of you while you eat dessert, kids jogging around and playing soccer while you two watch the clouds move along, sometimes pointing out their shape and what they reminded you of, sometimes even laughing at the shapes jisung comes up with.

“you want to watch a movie?”

the two of you sit side by side, a comfortable distance in between while jisung sets up his laptop and opens netflix to watch a movie. while the movie’s duration shortens, so does the distance between you and jisung, the two of you shoulder to shoulder when the movie hits halfway and it takes everything in you to rest your head on his shoulder, heart beating faster while you wait for his reaction.

jisung is quiet for some time, his body going stiff after you laid your head down. the boy trying to take deep breaths as discreetly as possible. ‘she smells like strawberries and vanilla.’ jisung takes one deep breath, almost coughing when he hears you take one too. ‘come on, jisung. be a man, be a man.’

your heart jumps out of your chest when you feel fingers intertwine with yours. you'd imagine what holding his hand would be like before, only now experiencing how big his hands are and how they're slightly calloused and you feel shy to think about how his slim fingers fit perfectly intertwined between yours, the smooth texture of his palm underneath yours.

the rest of the date goes smoothly, both of you silent as he slowly walks you to the front door of your house. the night air is fresh and cold, slightly nipping at your skin under jisung’s hoodie. he's looking down at his feet the moment you reach the door, your hands ready to push it open and go inside to scream into your pillow. “i had a great time.”

“i- yeah- me too. i had a great time too.” his smile is flustered, cheeks pushed up as he smiles bigger at you. you see him slowly raise his hand to wave as he turns to walk back home. “good night.”

you're bitting the inside of your cheek, eyes trailing after his figure and you cup your hands to your mouth to scream out. "jisung, wait!"

your feet have never moved this fast in your life, you scramble down the side walk to meet him halfway, stopping yourself before you crash into him. under the streetlamp, you decide jisung looks more ethereal anyone else ever would, the thought of seeing him again soon filling your tummy with butterflies. you raise yourself on tiptoes, planting a kiss onto his cheek and making a mad dash back to your front door. you push the door open and wave at him, giggling when you see his tomato like red face. "let's do this again soon, yeah? walk back safe, good night sungie."

the door clicks shut as you slide down the wooden surface, heart beating so fast you press your palm on it, hoping to calm it down. your cheeks hurt from smiling so wide and you're not sure how long you’ve stayed in that position until multiple dings from your phone snaps you out.

[20:01] nana🐰

how was your date?

[20:16] nana🐰

jisung just came in looking like a tomato

[20:17] nana🐰

why does he look like this???

[20:17] nana🐰

hellooo????

[20:18] nana🐰

oohhh you kissed him! and asked for another date!!

[20:18] nana🐰

he looks like a love struck fool

[20:19] nana🐰

p.s jisung's going around like an idiot looking for his hoodie. its with you right?

[20:20] nana🐰

p.s.s jisung just realized its with you & says you can keep his hoodie. he said, i quote, “hyung it looked better on her than it ever did on me.”

[20:22] nana🐰

heheh jisung says your hair smells like strawberries and he likes it

[20:25] sungiiiee <3

please don’t read hyung’s messages!

[20:26] sungiiiee <3

i had a really good time...

[20:36] sungiiiee <3

i'll call you tomorrow, goodnight♡

[20:37] hyuck 🤡

he’s smiling so hard at his phone i’m scared his face’ll fall off.

[20:37] hyuck 🤡

it took him a whole ten minutes just to send a heart. love sick idiot.

[20:34] nana🐰

i hope he makes you happy as much as you do him. it makes me happy seeing him like this. tell me about the date tomorrow, now get some rest okay? good night.

[20:37] to: sungiiie <3

too late for that sksksk. your hoodie looks good on me huh?😳 good night sungie♡

[20:38] to: nana🐰

dont worry nana, he made me smile like no one ever did... good night.

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blueoctobass · 3 years ago

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Cirrus and Nim are terrible rulers

Cirrus and Nim became prince and princess because they won the magic lottery and beat up people to climb the ranks. As far as we know, that’s the only thing that’s needed to become royalty in stratoverse. Leadership qualities ? Neither have them.

Nim is just doing her own thing and seemingly doesn’t have any interest in taking the throne. She may be a nice person but she’s not a good politician. She just wanna be an archeologist, and becoming princess was the only way to do that, or at least to leave the country while remaining a citizen. As a princess, she should have the power and ability to change that for others like her, no ? Yet the only thing she did, as far as we know, is get her title and Run Away. If she had done any changes, she could have just stepped down and let someone more interested take over. There’s always the risk that the new princess would undo what she did, but Nim is powerful, perhaps as powerful as Virga if not more. She could take the title again in that case.

Meanwhile, Cirrus lacks A LOT of diplomacy for punching the president of one country and insulting the shaman of another. I love that boy but he's a loner dumbass and probably not a great leader. He supposedly became the prince because he was raised by a magicless family. Yet, he’s become part of the problem and hasn’t made any changes. He just feels bad about what’s happening and complain about shoes.

(more under the cut)

Maybe he just doesn’t have enough power as a prince and needs to be the king to bring such a significant change to society. but.... The king is a nice grandpa, he could probably talk to the grandpa and make change as a prince with the help of the king but noooooo he's punching the president instead. Why did he became Prince if hes just going to wait and do nothing ? Virga said he didn’t want to kill the King, which is nice, but you know what she also said? That he was going to live another 80 years. If he doesn’t do anything now as a Prince, why did he become one ? Did he want to be king and then noped out because he can’t bring himself to potentially hurt or kill a nice old man while magicless teens are dying in the background ? He want change ? That’s good ! But he’s not doing anything to get change. Sure mentality doesn’t change overnight, and there’s probably going to be pushback against such a big change, but doing nothing will get you nothing.

It's true that they do have some good qualities and skills (well mostly Nim actually ? Cirrus is... a wildcard tbh), but leading a country is going to take a lot more than just that ! They need some (a lot) character development before we can say they would be good leaders (and again, Nim isn't really interested). It also seems that being the Prince and Princess doesn't come with a lot of responsabilities ? Nim went away, became an archeologist and probably doesn't come back very often, and Cirrus has the time to travel between Stratoverse and Gloomverse to come see her. Queen Virga is the only one who is seen having some sort of diplomatic role. If they want change, they probably need the Queen and King, or maybe Yellow, to do that. Which is why Cirrus needs to talk to the goddamn King or take the throne or nothing is going to change. He's not doing anything ! I think that Yellow has some role to play in the royalty, at the very least as an adviser, and if someone is too.... incompetent, she can do something about it (either by councelling them or.... getting rid of them. She's regarded as a goddess and ordered a murder. She could do that.) It is possible she’s the one preventing Cirrus from making such changes, after all she’s probably behind the current system.

After giving it thought, Cirrus' behaviour is very.... self centred. He cares about magicless people because his family is magicless, and presumably became Prince to change their living conditions for the better. That was his motivation, that was his goal. But it seems (to me at least) that he lost touch with that ? He cares, but only react to attacks, he's not proactive, he's not in Stratoverse trying to change mentalities, or on the mainland helping and protecting magicless people. He's in Steamverse, having a good time with his friend. Good for him, but what about his original goal ? He lost sight of it, and instead got shaped by the system into an ignorant nationalist dumbass. Maybe it's just a facade to fit in, but he never dropped it, not even in gloomverse or in the middle of the ocean. He says he's proud of his country, but he didn't even know about the shoes being imported ? He doesn't know how Stratoverse work. Which is concerning. Since the King has more powers than the Prince, he should try and become King to change things. But he also doesn't want to kill the current King because he's a sweet old man. His magicless family can wait 80 years for the current king to die of old age? Right? (no) He didn't try to negotiate a peaceful passover or a staged fight, or just talking to the guy and asking for help either. He's just... enjoying his freedom as Prince of Stratoverse I guess? His supposed motivation of helping magicless people has been lost.... My point is, Cirrus needs help. Let's be real, he's kind of a dumbass. He doesn't know how Stratoverse work, he lacks diplomacy and tact, he's not the most friendly type and Nim seems to be.... his only friend? And even she barely tolerate him. If he want to change anything and be a good leader, he has to make more effort? He's trying his best, I get that, but he's on his own. Change can't come from just one person. He needs to surround himself with competent people that he can trust, starting with Nim and Alto, and also reconnect with his family and other magicless people to actually help them. He’s so averse to shoes, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t come back to see his family since he went to live in the clouds. Maybe they died and he lost motivation ! But he’s talking about them in the present tense, not past, implying they’re still alive (unless he forgot to check on them for too long).

Finally, I think it's very likely they won't stay royalty for the whole comic. Why ? Virga is on a quest to kill Rylie, while she, Nim and Cirrus are bonding. I'm waiting for the moment of confrontation where choices will be made and sides will be chosen :) And something tells me that Nim would rather forfeit her Princess title than let Rylie die. ( I wrote a fic about it ) Being Queen never was her goal anyway, she just wanted to be able to leave the country.

TL;DR : Nim became a princess for selfish reasons before running away from her responsibilities and without addressing the problem that made her do this. Cirrus lost sight of his goal, isolated himself, and became complacent about the one thing he wanted to change. Nim needs to give up her title if she’s not going to use it and Cirrus needs to TALK TO PEOPLE AND ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING

Thanks for reading ! this is an altered version of a comment thread i wrote as a response to a comment saying “Nim and Cirrus seem like they would make perfect rulers” (i’m paraphrasing) and I had Some Objections to that notion. They’re terrible rulers. I dont think they even deserve to be called rulers right now since they’re just fooling around.

Also, feel free to reblog with your own thoughts ! You can defend them, or drag them more if you so wish.

#gloomverse #stratoverse #Prince Cirrus #nim #princess nim #queen virga #king alto #cirrus #alto #virga #gv #someone slap cirrus again #seriously #give him a goat to go #maybe that will do it

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

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Hi I dont know if you want jercy requests at the moment but i had an idea for one :

Dark percy murdering calligula as a revenge for jason

Hello angel! Whew this request was willldddddd and I had soo much fun with it. There isn't any jercy per se (in fact Annabeth and Percy are together in this) but Percy is furrrrrious about Jason and he exacts a very twisted sort of revenge for his friend's honour. Basically this was an excuse to write dark!percy and by gods I hope I delivered!

CW: revenge driven, grief, graphic depictions of violence

Burning Maze Spoilers

he used to be nice.

He used to be nice.

Percy had been digging around the weapons room when his name had been shrieked like a dying animal. He had been looking for protective gear to give to little demigods in his sword-fighting class, when a scream like broken bones cracked through his body. He had been starting another calm, routine-controlled day at camp half-blood when he heard the news that made him snap.

*Two hours earlier*

“Jackson,” Annabeth knocks at his cabin door. He hears her voice carry through the open windows, and over the continuous sound of the ocean. “Pers, we have breakfast in half an hour and you have a sword class to teach today.”

The event had been printed on her wall of “to-dos” so that neither of their adhd brains would have the chance to forget. But he groans at the reminder, not wanting to escape his warm bed, or the duvet that wraps around him like a hug, or the pillows that hold his head as if he is a god. Sometimes he wishes he was a Hypnos kid. Their whole thing is sleeping . The knock sounds again.

“Seaweed Brain, come on,” His girlfriend sighs, “You promised we’d talk to Chiron about the—"

The loud and obnoxious cry of a harpy sounds somewhere in the distance and whatever she says next is drowned out completely. He knows though. Knows what she’s going to say and what they have to do. So he drags himself out of bed, like the last sack of potatoes on the crate. Heavy and bruised and discarded for the most desperate of the lot.

“I’m up,” He manages to rasp. He doesn’t like talking to people till he’s brushed his teeth, and eaten something, and spent at least half an hour staring at an empty coffee cup. A New Yorker through and through he supposes.

“Okay,” He hears Annabeth call, “I’ll see you at the dining hall then.”

He makes a sound half way between a grunt and a yawn and hopes she understands because that’s the best she’s getting out of him. The morning routine is quick, even done at the speed of a stubborn toddler. Soon he is sitting at the Poseidon table, scarfing down eggs and toast, and washing it done with a second cup of coffee. The buzzing in his veins is completely normal. And he’s definitely not speaking at a thousand miles an hour. This is how he always talks. Why on earth they allow coffee in a camp full of adhd kids, he’ll never understand. But it works in his favour so he isn’t going to complain.

By the time him and Annabeth are done talking to Chiron about introducing therapy to the camp, he feels like his eyes are moving faster than his sensory receptors can process and his thoughts are moving faster than his ability to process at all. So when his girlfriend, smiling at him about something, stops outside their training room he looks at her with furrowed brows and asks, “What are we doing here? Are we training for something?”

She frowns, “How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“Only three cups.” He shrugs, and clenches his hands in his pockets as if she can see through the fabric to the shaking body underneath.

Her grey eyes widen as if she’s about to scold him, a petulant child being chided by their ever tired caregiver. It makes the part of him still attempting to function slightly wild. He squishes that part down with the force of a thousand ships. Someone calls Annabeth’s name so with a quick peck to the cheek she leaves him in front of the training room and jogs towards the middle of camp and out of sight.

He stares at the room, trying to get his brain to stop focusing on things he doesn’t need to focus on right now, like the three lines of a song he heard at the grocery store a week ago that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.

He used to be nice.

Entering the training room he scans the schedule and sees he’s teaching a class of small people, campers younger than ten who are just learning the ropes but should disaster ever strike will be ushered to the Cabin 9 bunkers to wait out the storm. It is a rule that no-one under the age of twelve be subject to war if they need not be. And he will make damn sure the need never ever surfaces.

He gathers swords of various shapes and sizes, along with a few daggers, and the straw dummies that have seen better days. It boggles his mind that they’re at a camp for children of literal greek gods but somehow there’s no funding for basic necessities like extra cots in the Hermes cabin, and better dummies to stab.

Muttering to himself he moves aside metal and stacks of straw, trying to find protective gear in the pile dumped at the corner of the training room. When he doesn’t see any he lets out a long suffering sigh... he has to go to the weapons room, which is more of a broom closet with deadly devices than anything else.

The room smelt musty, and the reek of rust slams into his nostrils at dizzying speeds. It reminds him of blood, and it made his skin itch with the need to get out. But still he bends down and searches through the mess of celestial bronze, and gold and—

The scream cauterizes his happiness. He is panic and pain and death and everything brutal in a single awful instant.

“PERCY!” His name has never sounded so full of agony, each syllable holds the stages of grief.

He is running towards the anguish before he’s even fully realises what’s going on. But what he sees when he crests the hill is enough to make the warmth of his heart run burning cold.

Annabeth is curled on the ground, tears like rivers of woe streaming down her cheeks and a purple flag clutched tightly in her fists.

“What happened?” His voice is soft. If he hears himself too loudly he’s going to shatter.

Annabeth cries harder, her whole body shuddering. Grief is overwhelming. Grief is all consuming. Grief will make itself known like thorns in your thumb or bullets in your heart.

“What happened?” He repeats.

And someone, far away, right next to his ear, inside his head, says, “It’s Jason, Jason Grace. He’s dead.”

He used to be nice.

It takes him three days. Three days of non-stop travelling, by foot, and air, and sea, to reach Caligula’s home. A palace. A grave. It is three days too long. Too long for a murderer to be walking free as if there are no consequences to his vile actions. But still he is here now and he will see the fall of a great, and watch how he bleeds just like everyone else. Not gold, the colour of the emperor’s one true love, but red, the colour of his victims.

Percy's eyes are almost black with violence, green so dark it reflects the night sky. His hands clench and unfurl as if practicing to wrap around a throat and squeeze till the symphony of breathing plays its last note. His body is strung taut, a bow string waiting to release. He is murder. He is nothing. He is your worst nightmare.

“Caligula.” He scrapes. It is the exact sound of a sword sparking against stone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Nothing but scared silence greets him. He can feel the fear coating the walls of this burial ground like a fresh coat of paint. He will make a playground of the blood he spills, will invite all manner of creatures to use it as a park. He will revel in the slaughter he is about to participate in.

“Caligula!” His voice is the sharp edge of a small knife. Unassuming but deadly. ‘“It is no use hiding. There is no place you could go where I couldn't find you.” He feels the earth sway underneath him, and he grins. Oh this is going to be fun.

“Fine Emperor, if this is how you want to do it.”

With a shrug, he flings out an arm and turns three columns to dust. He watches the stone crumble, feels the sand on his palm as if he was crumbling the columns in his hands like soft cheese. With a small stomp of his foot a crack rivaling the river Thames splits the marble floor in half. The entire structure shudders, creaks right above him. His grin only gets wider, more dangerous.

“I will level this place to the ground. I will erase it from history as if it had never been. You will not exist Caligula, because you will go with it. Will be crushed under the weight of your own wealth.”

“You’re a fool,” A voice, reedy and nasalled in a way that has his soul curdling, shouts from somewhere on the far side of the room. “You will crush us both."

Percy laughs. He laughs and the sound widens the cracks in the floor. It is deep, and wild, but in the way a wild thing is caged: snapping at it’s bars, hissing to be free. He laughs.

“You are a fool Caligula. A fool if you think i am not willing to die if it means you suffer. A bigger fool still if you think it will not give me great pleasure to spend my last moments watching the life leave your eyes,”

The distant sound of bubbling starts to fill the room. Percy wonders if he can make blood boil. His mother has certainly said so enough times.

“Leave now half-blood,” The Emperor spits. There is still something of arrogant, misplaced bravery in his voice. It amuses Percy. “Leave now and you will not face the consequences.”

“And pray tell,” He contemplates, “Who you think will deliver your consequences if i leave?”

A scoff that echoes into the pathways of his brain comes from the back of the room. “I do not need consequences dealt. I have done nothing to deserve them.”

The sound of bubbling is getting louder. He looks curiously at the cracks still spidering around the room. “Ah Emperor,” He tuts, “That is where you are wrong. People who deserve consequences hardly ever get them. It is those who don’t think they deserve them that become the unlucky bearers.”

“What are you going on about, boy?” He snarls.

The bubbling is loud enough now that Percy almost checks to see if a small brook has carved its way through the floor. There is nothing there except ever growing cracks, turning to rifts and canyons before his eyes.

He used to be nice.

“We can do this one of two ways Caligula.” He starts, honey bees with a sting a little too sharp to be defence. “You can apologise and I’ll kill you quickly, or…” His smile is sickening. “And this is my preferred method, I could watch you die slowly, watch the life drain from your body and into the soil of blood-crops that will grow here, and your dying words will be the mercy you will inevitably beg for.”

The bubbling spills over the cracks, leaking salty water onto the dying marble floor.

“Better choose soon oh dear Emperor,” He giggles, “I am the only thing holding this room together. As soon as I let go the floor will split like your loyalties. You will be crushed to death by your own greed. And if that doesn't happen you will surely drown.” To emphasise his point water starts gushing from the floor, no longer a bubbling stream but a raging river. His laughter is carried along the ripples that hit the walls, already leaking with the all encompassing ocean. “Wouldn’t it be a pity Caligula? To drown in your own home, surrounded by all the things you killed for, watching as they drown with you?”

“Shut up half-blood,” He screeches, “You do not have the power it takes to kill me. You are nothing compared to the centuries I have been alive.”

“Do you know who i am honouring Caligula?” He asks softly, a stark and terrifying contrast to his smile a moment before. “In all your centuries can you remember but one demigod, a dear friend of mine, but just another victim of yours?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, “They are all the same in the end. All bleed, and cry, and piss, and die the same.”

The grin Percy lets loose starts hurricanes. It is the absolute wrong thing to say. ‘“If it is all the same to you Emperor,” He becomes terror. “Then i think i’ll spill your blood at his altar.”

And before the doomed emperor could react an invisible hand wraps around his throat and he was being dragged to the middle of the room. His eyes wide, popping out of his head; hands clawing at his neck as if trying to remove the grip they cannot feel; feet flopping helplessly underneath him.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.” It is a command.

Caligula glares, attempting to spit at his feet.

Percy tilts his head and with a single crook of his finger he slams the emperor into the wall. The crack is deafening. It makes him grin.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.”

Caligula produces an ancient roman gesture, passed through time as if centuries cannot dismantle the insults of humans.

Percy twists his wrist and the emperor’s body contorts into something unrecognizable, bones snapping and shattering to fit their new mold.

“Apologise for killing my friend.”

“Fuck you,” He manages to choke out.

A wave of ocean water alarming in its beauty rises behind him. He is its god. And with a wink he shoves all of it down the emperor’s throat. The column of that pale neck bobs as if attempting to take the water down. He can see the body trying to retch it all up, unable to handle the sheer amount, the salt that comes with it.

“Watch Caligula,” He motions to the palace sinking under the weight of his ocean, “Watch as everything you have ever cared to love drowns.”

Percy grabs a shard of mirror, uncaring of the gash it sweeps across his palm. He holds it up to the ancient powerful Emperor, who is convulsing into nothing. “Watch.”

He used to be nice.

Sometime later when Percy Jackson walks up a hill, and into the fading sun there is nothing but content mania lining his features, and behind him where a grand home once stood, is a trickling river and a single spear carved with the words, “Neo Helios”. The only sign that Caligula, Emperor and murderer, ever existed,

He used to be nice.

Until someone killed his friends.

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#Percy Jackson #Jason grace #Annabeth Chase #Caligula #PJJG fanfic #He used to be nice #Firerose requests #PJJG asks #burning maze spoilers #toa spoilers #trials of apollo spoilers

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