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noblesandsstories · 6 days ago

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Venomous Ties

Chapter 3- Just trust me, you'll be fine

Alpha! Albert Wesker x ?????!AFAB! Reader

-> Omegaverse; Age Gap (Reader is mid 20s ish, Wesker is 37); Older man, younger woman; Slow(ish) burn; Talk of severe domestic abuse (like someone almost died and went to the hospital); Physical abuse; Child abuse; Swearing; Abusive toxic parents still; Talk of concussions; Bruising; Panic attack; Nightmares; Talk of murder/homicide; Grief; Smoking (he was born in the 60s guys); Manipulation?; Total apathy; Mentions of a mugging, but it's not that important, kinda

AN: 7,426 words. This is 7,426 words. I want to go back in time and tell Past Noble that she didn't know a long chapter yet. Once again, PLEASE adhere to the tags. There's only one really screwy moment, but it's a doozy. Once again, please reblog, comment, and tell me alllllll your thoughts! I want to know if I'm building all of this right!

Title is from "End of Beginnings" by Djo

Border made by @sweetmelodygraphics

The two of you moved wordlessly. Wesker helped you up the stairs and left you to pack. It was easy to pack lightly, you didn’t have that much to your name. The only thing of real importance to you was a few books and a stuffed elephant.

You did a final skim over your room to make sure you had everything you needed, before your eyes fell on the bottle of pills. You hadn’t taken anything this morning, and you’d feel sick later for it. But you needed to eat to take it, and how you felt right now you didn’t know if you could stomach anything. Afterall, you nearly puked going up the stairs.

“Are you ready?” Wesker’s voice interrupted your line of thought, and you turned to see him standing at the doorway.

You throw the bottle in your bag. “I think so,” your voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Your throat hurts. Your head hurts more. “I’m just debating taking my meds, but I’ll wait. I really need to eat before taking it.”

“A good decision. When we get to the apartment, we can have lunch,” he states, holding out his coat. “You might want to cover up for our walk outside.”

You took his coat, confused, until you looked down to realize you had blood on your shirt. “Yeah, good idea.”

You never really noticed how much bigger he was than you before, but as the coat enveloped you you became very aware of the difference in size. The train dragged on the ground, the shoulders sagged with the extra fabric, and the sleeves came up past your wrists.

“Thank you.”

He gives a stiff nod. “I hate to rush, but I have things to attend to.”

“Right.” You grabbed your bag, walking out of your room. Before you closed the door, you took one deep look at the room that you lived in for the past decade of your life.

You slammed the door shut.

No one was going to miss it.

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

You started feeling woozy again in the car as your body began to feel heavier and waves of nausea began to wash over you.

“Keep awake a little longer for me.” His voice is quiet, which you appreciate. Your head is starting to throb, and even at his usual volume (which is hardly loud), you think you’d start to get a migraine. He reached out to the air controls, increasing the fan speed. “Keep a vent on your face, it’ll help with the nausea.”

You do as he says. “Where are we going?”

“An apartment of mine. Somewhere temporary until I’m done with Raccoon City.”

The words come back to haunt you again. What’s going to happen to me?

It hurts too much to worry about it now. Your throat is starting to burn. Actually, everything is starting to hurt more.

“We’re almost there.” You’re imagining emotion in his voice, you know it. Just like how you were imagining the car speeding up. He doesn’t care like that.

The rest of the ride was a blur. You barely remember parking, too consumed with the ache in your body and the bile threatening to emerge.

He gets out, grabbing your bag before opening your door. “Why is it hurting?” You wheezed.

“Adrenaline is wearing off,” he states, holding out his arm, which you graciously take. You end up having to put more weight on it that you’d like to after nearly collapsing.

“Sorry,” you choke out. When did it get hard to speak? “I’m trying-”

He cuts you off with a gentle shush, repositioning his arm to under you’re your own, letting you rest more of your weight on him. “Let’s get you up to the apartment and you can rest.”

You don’t walk as much as he carries you into the building. The lobby is elegant, not screaming luxury and wealth, but still higher end. Wesker doesn’t say anything, just heads directly to the elevator. You’re too focused on not collapsing on him to worry about the surroundings much or what number he even presses.

When the door opened, he quickly carried you forward. The faint smell of something like leather hitting your nose.

You made it to the door right as the pain began to feel unbearable. He smoothly unlocked the door and pushed it open before helping you inside and locking it behind you.

The apartment had a simple layout. The main area was a connected kitchen and living room that was quite spacious. There seemed to be two hallways on either side of the main room. The furnishing was simple and minimalistic. You would have been more surprised if that wasn’t the case.

Wesker maneuvered you to the couch, giving you a curt “Sit.” You nod weakly, looking over the rest of the room to distract yourself from the pain. Like the lobby, everything was not lavish but still held a feel of wealth. The couch was soft and made of quality materials. The coffee and end tables looked to be sturdy and elegant.

Your eyes caught the window, and the balcony that lay beyond. It looked like the view of the city would be pretty.

A blanket was draped over your shoulder unexpectedly, making you flinch. You turned your head to find Wesker hovering behind you.

“Keep that on, will help you off the adrenaline. Keep the ice pack on your head. Not much can be done for the bruising, but it’ll go away in due time,” he stated, passing an ice pack wrapped in a towel to you.

“Bruising?” You asked as you took the ice pack and held it to where your head hit the ground.

“Around your neck.”

For most of your time together, his deadpan delivery was never a problem. It was just a part of him that you accepted. But something about how dryly he pointed out your state…

It made your entire body go cold as you realized: Bruno tried to kill you. You almost died.

Your entire body seemed to react all at once. Dread, panic, fear, pain, all at once. A choked sound escaped your throat.

You needed to keep it together. Wesker in no way wanted to handle your emotions right now. If you disappoint him and he tosses you to the side, you have nowhere to go, nothing to be. You might as well have let Bruno…

“Anything in particular that you would want to eat? I don’t keep much here. But I have the most basic ingredients,” Wesker’s voice comes from the kitchen.

“Could I just have a sandwich? Maybe peanut butter and jelly?”

If he noticed the cracked emotion in your voice, he didn’t acknowledge, just replied with a quick “Of course.” Then silence.

You appreciated it. If he chose today to be the day he started rambling, you’d probably go mad.

If you weren’t already, if only for your choice in company.

Your aloof demeanor didn’t mean you weren’t paying attention. You knew exactly what Wesker and Birkin were up to. You’d heard plenty of screams and wails from the other side of doors. Once watched a newer guy come out of one of the testing labs and throw his lunch up. Albert Wesker didn’t just have blood on his hands, he was submerged in it. Breathed it in like a fish breathes in water; naturally, with no issues. You’d be insane to be alone with him in a room.

Hell, he killed Bruno, didn’t he? Given how long there was before the sound of the door coming down and the gunshot, he didn’t even hesitate.

He killed Bruno and saved you. He shouldn’t have. Bruno would have been more beneficial to his work. Bruno was a fellow scientist; you graduated high school with science being your worst subject. But he chose to save you.

There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t have spared you otherwise.

Your line of thought was interrupted by a plate being placed in front of you.

“Eat,” he said, before nodding his head to the hall behind where you were sitting. “The guest room is down that hall, as well as a full bathroom. Both are yours while we’re here. I’m expecting us to be leaving within a few days, so don’t get too comfortable.” He waited until you gave a nod of acknowledgement before he continued, “I’ll be away for the rest of the day. You should be clear to sleep, but if anything else develops you will page me. Outside of the master bed and bath, the apartment is yours to explore, but I ask that you do not leave without informing me.”

That one was easy. You had nowhere to go.

“If you have no questions for me, I will take my leave.” He briskly turned and began stalking to the door.

“Wait,” you croaked, so hoarse you weren’t sure if he heard you.

But apparently Wesker did, as he stopped and turned his head to you.

“Your coat.” You slipped it off and held it out towards him.

He didn’t say anything in reply, just stalked over, took it out of your hands, and he was gone.

After you finished your sandwich, you took your bag to where he said the guest room was. The room was empty except for the bare minimum furniture needed. You dropped the bag near the foot of the bed and slipped off your shoes. Upon reflection of your current attire, you quickly changed into a different set of clothes, throwing your bloody ones as far from you as you could. You settled into the bed, and within seconds of your head hitting the pillow, you were asleep.

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

Y̴̺̋o̸͕̓̚u̷̦͒͠r̶̞̈́̋ ̵̣̙̃̏m̷̪̉͑o̶̢̡̐̚m̸͓̱͝'̴͖́͌s̵̙̈ ̵̭̓͑b̴̠̫͗ơ̸̙̒d̷͒ͅy̵̩͐ͅ ̵̙̿̇o̶̼̖͊n̵̡̞͆ ̸̥̈͜t̴͚͙͝h̸͍̄̐e̴͉͐͠ ̶̛̦̥͑g̷͍͐̽a̵̯͑r̷̙͘ͅa̴̻̠͘g̴͈̜̊ȩ̸͘ ̶̩̣́f̶͇͐́l̶͖̳͠o̴͍͊͝ö̷̦́̃r̷̼̻͑.̷͕̇

H̴̰̽ạ̷́ñ̷̡̘̎d̷͕̈́͛s̶͎̏̚ ̵̹͖̌a̶͔̎͂r̸͈͌͒ò̷͖͕ǘ̴̬͐n̸̠̠̈́͂d̴̳̱͂̚ ̴̠̮̌ỷ̵̦̞õ̴͓̻u̷̹͕͠ŕ̸̈͜ ̶͈̞͛t̸̜̂ḧ̶͉̜́r̴̗͎̔o̵̪̿̏à̴̛͚t̸̰̓́.̴̥̒̇

N̵̝̈́ó̸̹ ̶̬͑o̷̬̐n̶̡̿e̷͓͊ ̷̧̛w̷̙͒ḁ̶͐s̶̝̉ ̷̞̓c̶͖͋ȍ̶͇m̷̡̅i̵̱̔n̶̹͛g̶͊͜ ̸̘̈́f̸̲͝ơ̶̤r̸͇̾ ̶̘̾y̷̮̾o̷̰̍u̶̹̓.̵͕̍

P̴̖̈a̷̲̚i̸͚͗n̸̺̉.̷̰͝

P̷̱̍A̸͉͊I̷͌ͅN̸̰͊.̵̬̔

You jolted awake, sweat beading down your face. It was hard to breathe, terror racking your body as you desperately tried to make sense of your surroundings.

The sun was still present, but it looked like it would set within the next few hours, the rays starting to turn golden as they came through the window of the bedroom. You felt like you had a bucket of cold water thrown on you, as the numb stupor you were in left all at once.

The pain of the fight with Bruno, the ring of the gunshot in your ears, leaving behind the only life you’ve known…

Finding your mom, the woman who raised you, dead.

Grief hit you in a strong wave. You hated her and everything she put you through. But the faded memories of the time before Bruno still lived in the back of your mind. When she would take you to get ice cream and sing little folk songs as she did your hair. Grief of the mother, the life, you could have had. You wouldn’t have it now. You thought you accepted that, but deep down, you hoped.

You hoped that one day she’d wake up. That she’d take you and you’d leave. She would sing those songs again, and keep you wrapped in your arms.

You don’t remember the last time she hugged you, or vice versa. You don’t remember the last kiss on the cheek, the last time you spent your afternoons watching the sun set. The last time she said a kind word to you; her only daughter.

The grief gave way, and rage bubbled.

She was your mother. Supposed to be the one person on your side no matter what, and she left you to rot. Obsessed with a fantasy life with a man who would never have enough. God knows what he was shooting for, but it was never going to be fulfilled. And instead of putting any kind of thought into it, she married a man who hated kids with a daughter of her own. She willingly signed you up into the hell you’ve lived in for a decade, and not once did she ever show you sympathy or remorse.

She asked how you could never pity her? Why you could never be grateful? Because you were damned to suffer for the simple crime of being born to a wretch of a mother.

You started to feel vindicated the more you reflect. She once told you she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Bruno. Well, she got what she wanted, didn’t she? Murdered by him, tossed on a tarp in a garage. Like she wasn’t even worth the effort it took to kill her. Maybe karma does exist, for such an end. One thing was for certain, the mom you knew was dead to you long before he struck.

You moved as if in a trance, walking out of the bedroom, through the living room, and onto the balcony. The rays of the sinking sun felt… rejuvenating. As you soaked it all up, you felt your soul itself become lighter.

Over time the sky became painted with more colors, reds, oranges, and purples as the sun retreated from the sky, allowing the other stars to shine. It took you a moment to realize it was a new moon, meaning it wouldn’t be seen. You weren’t upset. It somehow felt fitting.

You don’t know how long you sat there watching the waltz of the sky. When the last remnants of sunlight left, you searched for stars you knew. It wasn’t a lot, and you couldn’t see super well due to the city lights, but there were a few you spotted.

The door behind you slid open.

“Have you eaten?” Wesker’s voice flowed in the atmosphere you have been reveling in, almost adding to the scenery.

“No, I fell asleep,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the sky.

“I had guessed that was the case, I brought dinner.”

“Thank you.” You didn’t get up to move for a few more minutes. When you did, you were surprised to find Wesker still standing at the door, waiting.

He moved to the side as you entered and closed the door behind you.

Dinner was Chinese takeout and was some of the best food you’d ever had. One glance at the receipt told you why. It was from one of the high-end places in the city, with the two of your meals going for almost $60. You didn’t know how to feel about that amount of money being spent on you. You were not going to complain though. It was nice to be spoiled, even if it was just a side effect of Wesker’s high standards. He even remembered what your preferred order for Chinese was.

After you finished eating, you gathered the dishes and began washing them. He pulled out some containers and the leftovers were put in the fridge. By that time most of the dishes were washed, and you started drying, while he put them away. It was… domestic in a way you’d never known. You didn’t feel stressed or rushed to get everything done, you just felt like you could be.

After the last dish was put away, he spoke. “I’m going to spend some time on the balcony. Feel free to join me if you wish.”

Might as well. What else were you going to do? You slipped into your bedroom and grabbed the book you’d been rereading and stepped out. The smell of tobacco and smoke wafted around the area, Wesker’s back to you as his arms rested on the rail, an ashtray next to him. His hand holding the cigarette motioned to the side, where the chair was. You vaguely remembered seeing it earlier, though you weren’t paying attention at that time.

You curled up and cracked open the book. Though before you got too settled, your curiosity got the better of you.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Your voice wasn’t accusatory, just opening up the space for conversation, should he choose to accept.

A dry chuckle escaped him. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

True. If Birkin wouldn’t drop his first name here and there to annoy him, you’d probably have never learned his name was Albert.

After a pause, he continued. “I don’t smoke frequently. Usually one or two at night, depending on my mood.” He finally turned over to look at you. “What are you reading now?”

“I’m rereading The Wind in the Willows,” you hum.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, you reading and him rhythmically inhaling and exhaling. The sounds of the city made for a lovely ambiance, even sirens of emergency vehicles coming off as poetic. Eventually Wesker snuffs out his second cigarette in his ashtray.

“I’m retiring for the night, I’ve got some more business to attend to in the morning,” he says, moving the ashtray he was using to the small table near where you were sitting.

“I won’t be long after,” you reply. “Goodnight Dr. Wesker.”

“Goodnight.”

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

You spent the night tossing and turning, sleeping only in short bursts. As if your body couldn’t tolerate sleeping for longer than needed. You decided to just deal with it once the sun started rising, getting out of bed and following your morning routine. Maybe you could scrounge something up for breakfast for you and Wesker.

To your total surprise, he was already up, dressed, and had a pot of coffee going. Glasses sitting high on his nose.

“Good morning.” You’ve noticed Wesker never usually says these phrases of well wishes with any kind of enthusiasm. Really most of the things he says sounds like he's only saying it out of some form of social obligation. You don’t think he would ever really want Birkin to have a good night. He seems to always be thirty seconds away from stabbing him with a scalpel. It was honestly the most amusing part of your day, when they started bickering over something silly. You once thought chairs were gonna fly because of a missing beaker and as a fly on the wall, it was one of the best days you had in a long time.

You come out of your thoughts, giving him a “Good morning” in return. “Do you have anything to do today?”

“I have an errand or two to run this morning.” He pours his cup, adding a splash of milk before sipping away. “Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I don’t eat breakfast.”

You nod, opening the fridge cautiously to look inside. “Is there anything you need me to do while I’m here?”

He doesn’t reply, though you don’t take it to mean too much. He’s probably mulling something over. Instead you take out the butter, eggs, and cheese from the fridge, before beginning your search through the cupboards. “I advise against any extra strain on your mind. Just because the worst of the concussion has faded, does not mean it has gone away. Especially since we are unaware of the severity.”

A long way to say “You need rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“Ok,” you hum. You finally found a bowl, now to find a pan and utensils. You passed by the cups, going ahead and slipping one out before continuing. Eventually you found the utensils but had no signs as to where the pans were. Most of the cabinets were almost empty, with hardly anything in them. Only a few cups, only a few plates, only a few utensils. It’s like this place was hardly lived in, now that you think about it. Does he even own pans? Would he get angry if you ask? Maybe he would think you’re stupid, cause of course he would have pans, it’s his apartment. You didn’t know what to do, but didn’t want to keep going through every cabinet, especially if it wasn’t needed.

“Um, Doctor Wesker-” you started, hesitantly.

“If you please, you can drop the doctor. Just Wesker is fine.”

“Ok, uh, Wesker, where do you keep your pans?”

He gives a short nod before going to a cabinet off to the side and opening it, revealing a few basic pans. You gave him a meek “Thank you” before grabbing the smallest one.

You begin working on your eggs, trying to be as out of the way and quiet as possible. As you were pouring the eggs into the skillet, Wesker came behind you and placed the mug in the sink.

“I’m leaving for my errand, I’ll be back around midday, if I’ll be later I’ll page you. Help yourself to anything here that is not in my bedroom.” He leaves before letting you say anything, not that he needs to.

After you finished your eggs, you dealt with the dishes, putting them away after washing and drying them. You then washed down the counter, returning everything back to its spotless state. Once you were satisfied with everything, you fixed a glass of water and went back to the guest room to take your daily pill. But just as you raised it to your mouth, you stopped.

What was this supposed to be for again? You’ve been taking it for so long. Maybe you could ask Wesker? Is it worth bothering him with it? You’re not dying.

But it’s one more thing connecting you to the past life you had. And you don't even remember what it’s for. You’ll take the pill now, but ask Wesker when he gets back. After all, he’s seeming to be nicer towards you, probably because of the concussion. Proof that he does have bedside service, you guess.

You found a book he had laying around in his living room (as you had finished your reread the night prior) and spent the rest of the day reading. It was refreshing to finally get your hands on something new. You rarely got new books, so anytime you got your hands on one, it felt like a holiday. It wasn’t the most exciting, but it was something.

Wesker returned when he said he would. He didn’t stay in the den for long, slipping away to his room quickly. It didn’t bother you much, he probably wasn’t super interested in chatting right now.

A few more hours passed until he resurfaced, wearing casual clothes. Or at least, what you assumed casual for him looked like. A crisp button up shirt, dress pants, his shoes forfeit for dark grey socks, but considering he was in his own home, you didn’t think much of it. What did bother you was the glasses on his face. You know he probably wouldn’t be wearing them if it weren’t for you violating his space.

“Do you want to take your glasses off?” You blurted out the question before you could stop yourself.

Wesker stopped. An uncomfortable silence fell across the apartment.

“I just asked… I can leave the room and sit somewhere else if you wish…” You feel like an idiot for saying something. If Wesker hadn’t thought of kicking you out, you just told him he could kick you out. Stupid stupid

“I am susceptible to headaches, so I wear them to reduce visual stimuli. I assure you there’s no need for you to step away.”

“Oh, yes. That makes sense. Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you go back to your book, paying little mind to the sounds behind you.

“Is there a drink you prefer? I’m wanting to imbibe this afternoon.”

“I’ve never had one, sir. I’m not even sure I should.”

“Why not?”

“My medication… actually, I wanted to discuss that with you.”

You wait as he walks over and takes a seat on the chair diagonal of where you were. He takes a sip from his glass, before giving a vague hand gesture. You guess that’s your sign to continue.

“I…I don’t know what it is. My medication, I mean.” He doesn’t react, or at least, you don’t notice a reaction. “Is there any way I can figure out what it is?”

Wesker takes another sip, quiet. Contemplative.

You wait. You don’t know why you’re nervous. You don’t need to be. He’ll help you, right? He wouldn’t leave you to have to deal with it, the one last connection to the mad bastard that raised you, would he? Especially since the withdrawal effects were so rough, even for just a day. To have to deal with it, and then figure out whether or not there was anything the medicine was helping all at the same time. It would be hellish.

“Do you have more?”

You snap back to the room, taking a second to process his question. “Yes, sir. I’m not sure exactly how much I have left.”

“We can count the pills later, bring me one.”

You slip away into the guest room, pulling out the bottle, and decide to bring the whole thing. He holds out his hand when you return, and you wordlessly hand the bottle over then sat back down.

Wesker revolved the bottle around, checking for a label you guess, before opening it. To your shock, first he sniffs the container, before pouring a pill out and observing it. He stared at it for a bit, taking in every detail. He then closed the bottle, returning it to your hand.

“I’m going to keep this one and send it out to a lab when we get to our next location. It looks like you have enough for another few weeks, which should be plenty of time.” He went to his room and you returned the bottle to the guest room. When you came back to the living room, Wesker wasn’t back yet. You figured that would be the end of your interactions with him for the day and returned to reading. You vaguely became aware of Wesker’s return, but paid little mind. Until a glass of water was placed on the coffee table in front of you.

Wesker had already moved away when you looked up, and was sitting back at his chair, sipping from his glass, with his head to the ceiling. You read on, taking intermittent drinks of water, as he sat drinking amber liquid from his own glass.

Then the doorbell rings.

It feels like your heart is in your throat. Who could that be? The police? Did they figure out what happened at your house? How would they have known where you went, though?

Wesker was already heading towards the door and you studied his movements closely, looking for any sign of hesitance. He pears through the peep-hole, before unlocking the door and cracking it open.

You hear the murmurs of an exchange as Wesker pulls something from his pockets and passes it. What he brought in was…

Pizza.

It was such a bizarre sight, seeing the boxes in his hand, you could have laughed. Instead you watched on quizzically as he moved the boxes to the kitchen counter, then began to pull out plates.

“Uh- What kind did you get?” you ask as you stand, moving your book to the side.

“I got a cheese for you, since I am unaware of your preference, and a mushroom and olive for myself.”

He fixes the plates, a few slices for each of you, and brings them to the small dining table. For some reason ,you were quite pleased at the idea of your food being made for you. Honestly, these past two days are the most consistently you’ve eaten in… years. That’s probably the major reason it stood out so much to you.

Bringing his glass and yours, you sit across from him, and after he takes the first bite, you do the same. The pizza was amazing, the best you had even had, easily. The majority of pizzas you’ve had were cheap and from the freezer section of your local grocery store. You easily finish your slices. Before you could get up to get seconds, Wesker took your plate and his, added another two slices to both of your plates, and returned. The last two slices filled you perfectly.

When you noticed him done eating, you took the plates to the sink and began washing them. You hear his steps fall in behind you, and after you put the plates in the drying rack, you turn to him holding out your glass of water, now refilled.

“Thank you…” He looks at you and the rest of the sentence tumbles out of your mouth “For the food. Feeding me. Thank you.”

“You are under my care. I’m not going to let you starve, and I know I don’t have a lot to eat here.” He takes a sip of his drink, which he seemed to also have refilled. “And if I may be so forward, it seems like constant meals are a new development. If you’re going to be continuing your work for me, I need you at your best.”

That’s right, the notes. He still needs you around. You’re not going to complain, his need for you is keeping you fed and housed and out of jail for witnessing two homicides. Not to mention, he’s shown that if you play by his rules, he’ll work with you to some level. As long as you stay a useful asset, you’ll

“You’re right about the meals… Mom didn’t like cooking and Bruno didn’t like me. His preferred way to punish me since I was little was to deny me food, and would even lock me in my room to make sure I didn’t get anything later on.”

You’re not sure why you’re telling him this. Maybe it’s the idea of wishing to be known. The only other two people who knew anything about your life are dead and didn’t give a shit about your pain. He might be the only chance you ever have to truly express yourself, to put your pain on display so at the very least someone could see that you bled. Granted, you know better than to expect Albert Wesker, of all people on this Earth, to have any sort of sympathy. You accepted long ago no one would weep for you.

“He hit you as well, didn’t he?” Wesker asks the question like he’s asking about the weather, and you don’t know if you feel better or worse for it. At your nod, he prompts. “I’m shocked no one ever took notice. No teachers, no doctors, no one phoned it in?”

“Someone tried once,” you hum, the memory overtaking you. Gentle hands, a comforting voice. For a few seconds you thought everything would be alright, even after it all. “It’s kinda a sad, fucked up story,” you state, injecting humor in your voice to keep the pain at bay. “When I was in… maybe second grade? My class did a thing for Father's day, you know writing down who your dad was and all that. The thing was, I never met my biological dad. But another girl had a similar home life, her mom remarried and she said her step dad loved cards and stuff. So I wrote Bruno a card, called him my step dad, hoped it would help soften him up to me I guess.

I still don’t remember a lot of that day. All I remember was walking through the door with the card proudly in my hand one moment. The next I was in… so much pain. He was screaming, my mom was screaming. It was horrible. Eventually it stopped at some point. The first and last time I was ever taken to the hospital. I was barely conscious, needed stitches, a cast. I ended up having to stay in the hospital for a few days due to a cracked rib and some fractures in my arms and legs.

When the nurses asked my mom what happened, she just said it was a biking accident. That I wasn’t paying close enough attention to my surroundings. Even then I could tell the nurse knew she was full of shit. Actually overheard her telling the doctor, or whoever, that CPS needed to get involved. They never did.

It was things like that my whole life. I never understood why no one did anything. Hell, I never understood why Bruno and Mom didn’t just leave me on a park bench two cities away. Guess they enjoyed my misery.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Raccoon City is… corrupted.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” you hum, sipping on your water.

“Ah yes, I guess you are more familiar with that now aren't you.” A small smirk paints his face, probably the only facial expression you’re familiar without outside of his emotionless scowl, which returns quickly afterwards. “I am wishing to step outside and smoke again. Would you care to join me?”

“Sure.”

He moved the bottle of whatever he was drinking out on the balcony, sipping from it in between intakes of smoke. You brought the book you were reading with you and were once again curled up on the chair, enjoying the sounds of the city, as he moves the ashtray once again to the balcony rail and lights up. Whenever someone smokes, you always wonder what life is like with a full operating nose…

You remember your health class freshman year in high school. The teacher had given a lesson on scenting, how it was one of the best ways to bond with a potential mate. You remember wondering why no one had ever talked about your scent before, and that night you brought it up to your mom. She said you didn’t have one and it was probably due to your lack of presentation.

“As long as you can smell, you can pretend.”

“But I can’t smell?” you replied.

She didn’t say anything. Just slammed her jewelry box closed and stormed out of the room.

You look up to see Wesker’s head angled towards you. You could swear you saw a red glint in his glasses briefly, as he adjusts his head to look more to the side, almost lazily. You’re only guess is a play on the lighting, though you have no idea where the light comes from. You hold his gaze, waiting to see if he would say anything. After he realized you were going to hold his gaze, he repositioned himself to where he was facing you, back leaning on the rail. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, tilts his head up, and with an exhale, smoke curls out of his mouth and into the air.

“What does it smell like?” you whisper. He taps the end of the cigarette over the ashtray with a pondering hum.

“Each brand is different, due to different types of tobacco that can be used and the chemicals they treat it with.” He takes another inhale, letting the smoke pour out as he spoke again. “To answer your question more directly, there is not a good descriptor of what it smells like. It’s very unique.”

You nod. In all honesty, you’re not completely noseblind, you can get faint whiffs of scents here and there; and he’s right about cigarettes being unique in their smell. You let your gaze fall to his neck. That’s where the most prominent scent glands are. The only other placement of scent glands worth anything are the ones on the wrists.

“May I ask something personal?” You whisper, almost hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“Curious about my scent?”

You nod as you feel your cheeks warming up slightly. Hopefully the darker lighting will hide it.

“My rut suppressants have muddled it a bit, but it’s similar to something akin to polished authentic leather, though I’ve heard some say it has smokey undertones.”

“Oh…. is that why you wear a leather jacket around? To mask your scent.”

“Part of it, yes.”

“Smoking?”

“Like I said, stress relief.”

You nod, awkwardly. He’s been a good sport about answering your questions, since he has every right to shut them down. Maybe you should head to bed, you’ve taken so much of his time already. But he hasn’t dismissed you.

“What do you think of them?” He asks, smoke curling around his face. “Of Raccoon City and everyone in it. Of… humanity.”

You pause, wondering if he’ll elaborate. When, after a brief pause, he turns to you, cigarette in his mouth, and you realize he’s finished, you give your answer.

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” Smoke rushes out of his mouth, like a dragon from a fairy tale, as he questions you, disbelief in his tone.

“I don’t.”

“Really? Not even going to feign empathy?”

“No one has ever shown empathy to me, why should I to them? Doctors have left me for dead, teachers have turned their heads away. This city has done nothing for me and I won’t weep for any of it. Let it burn for all I care.”

He takes another long, almost dramatic, inhale of his cigarette. Even with his glasses on, you know he’s watching you, waiting for you to crack and show your bluff. You don’t look away, and keep fixated where his eyes would be if you could see them. It’s a direct challenge, but you fear looking away would make you seem like you’re dishonest to him.

After a moment of your silent staredown, a wicked smile graced his features. “I guess there are some similarities between us after all.”

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

The next day was one of the most peaceful days you had had in a long long time. Wesker messaged you around 11 am saying that he would be longer, and you ended up with the whole day to yourself. At one point you moved to the balcony, enjoying the summer day. Someone had a windchime on their balcony nearby and it made for a lovely background ambiance with the gentle breeze.

A few hours before sunset, a knock came from the glass door behind you. Upon seeing Wesker on the other side of the glass, you memorized the page number you were on, closed the book, and went inside.

“I brought food,” he stated, “I’m going to change clothes. Go ahead and eat.” He was gone before you could reply.

You decided to go ahead and get the food set up. Once again, the food was from a higher end restaurant, but this time it was a steakhouse that you hadn’t even heard of. You had no clue what was supposed to be yours or his, honestly you weren’t sure how comfortable you were with eating food this pricey. You already were quite indebted to Wesker, this felt like overkill.

You barely heard his footsteps approaching, and turned to be met to a shocking sight.

Wesker in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

You had never seen him in anything less than a button up and dress pants, so this was quite a surprise. Almost as surprising as the amused smile that decorated his face for a few brief seconds at your reaction. It was gone quickly, but it still lingered in your memory.

“Umm, I’m not sure whose meal is whose,” you manage to spit out. “I’ve never heard of this place before.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said, striding over and reaching over you to get in the bag, pulling the containers out. “It’s the most expensive restaurant in the city, with a singular Michelin star to its name. Since we will be leaving, I figured it would be nice to spend our last night in Raccoon City with my personal favorite restaurant.” He places a container and gestures for you to sit at the seat in front of it.

“Last night?” you questioned, sitting down.

He walks over to the kitchen. “Yes, the reason I stayed out for longer was to go ahead and finish everything I needed to do. Our flight will be early tomorrow.”

Your gut sunk at the word flight. You didn’t care much about the sudden departure, he had been very clear that you wouldn’t be here for long. But you’d never been in a plane before.

One thing at a time.

“Safe to say we won’t be returning to Raccoon City?”

He chuckled darkly as he walked back to the table with a bottle of wine, an empty wine glass, and a glass of water. “If everything goes according to plan, there won’t be a Raccoon City to return to.”

His question last night now made a lot of sense.

“Let’s not think of it much more, enjoy your dinner. I got you a steak done medium-well, as well as some brussel sprouts and potatoes on the side.” The glass of water was placed in front of you as he sat and poured a glass of wine for himself.

The steak cut easily under your knife, which you were surprised by. You’d think it would be harder to do, since it was a thick piece of meat. It felt like it was even softer in your mouth, and you couldn’t help the pleased hum that came out of your mouth at the flavors hitting your tongue. You looked up to notice that Wesker was watching you, and after you swallowed your bite, he started cutting into his.

“How did you spend your day?” He asked, before putting his own bite of steak into his mouth.

“Just reading, nothing exciting,” you reply, before taking a bite of brussel sprouts. They had a satisfying crunch with a marvelous tart, but sweet, flavor accompanying it. You’d always heard other kids all throughout your years of school speak of how awful brussel sprouts were, but you found it hard to believe why when these were some of the best things you’d ever eaten.

“Once we are at our next location, I’ll have you start up on the project I would like for you to cover. You should be recovered enough for there to be no strain.”

Right, Bruno’s notes. You’ll need to drag that out to some degree, just until you know what will happen to you after they’re done.

You dig into the potatoes and can instantly recognize the flavors of rosemary and a light onion flavor. You’re starting to realize you’ll never experience food the same way after this. You’re also realized how much your mom was not a great cook.

“Are you enjoying your food?” Wesker asked with an amused hum.

You felt embarrassed, realizing that you scarfed a lot of it down while his plate was still full, sans a few bites.

“Uh, yes. Thank you.”

“Good,” he hums, before bringing a piece of steak up to his mouth. “Don’t feel embarrassed, I’m glad to see you eating. Are you full?”

“Yes, I am, thank you.”

You sit and sip on your water as he finishes his meal, elegantly sipping his wine here and there. His meal looked similar to yours, though his steak looked like it was greatly undercooked, but you know better than to say something. There were also brussel sprouts on his plate, but he seemed to have gotten asparagus instead of potatoes.

He eats every bite on his plate faster than you would have thought, but by no means scarfing it down. After he finishes his meal and the two of you clean the kitchen, he dismisses himself to bed, claiming the need to finalize packing and throwing advice to not stay up too late.

You don’t plan on staying up late anyways. You just take one last moment out on the balcony. It only felt fitting to take a moment to look over the city that raised you and the only place you’ve ever known. You desperately search your mind for a person to pity, a singular soul you would want to warn about some imminent disaster. Perhaps Birkin, but he was most likely well aware of whatever Wesker was alluding to and had already planned for it. After all, how he spoke of his daughter, you’d think he had her stashed away already, at the very least.

You always felt a twinge of jealousy for her position. Your dad more than most likely hadn’t spared you a second thought in years.

No, there was no one.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch quick movement, and look down to see a scuffle. After watching it unfold for a moment, you put together it’s a mugging and it eventually comes to an end with the mugged individual knocked against a wall and collapsing. The mugger sprinting off into the darkness.

Maybe it was for the best that the city would be wiped off the face of the Earth, you thought, as you slipped inside to pack for the flight.

#resident evil #albert wesker #resident evil fanfiction #venomous ties #albert wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #a/b/o #a/b/o au #resident evil x reader #resident evil wesker #resident evil albert wesker

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agavekitten · 2 years ago

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Summary - You're Abby's Favorite Daycare Attendent!

Pairing - Mike Schmidt x Fem! Reader

Warnings- All fluff!

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Every day felt the same, gray, uncomfortable and cold. Nothing seemed to bring the warmth like it used to. Even getting out of bed feels like a chore. I rubbed my eyes, staring into the darkness of the room around me. The soft blankets coddled around me were the only things keeping me from feeling the light cold air around me. I could only let out a sigh as I thought about the day ahead of me. The same old same old, wake up, work, clean then sleep. Over and over again until I could feel nothing.

Today was one of those days, where I felt nothing. I didn't even notice that I got out of bed and had already gotten dressed. It was like a blur, like everything around me is simply a picture and none of it is real. It’s almost nice to think of it like that - a picture. It makes the things around you more interesting, a painting can be anything you interpret it as. It can be beautiful with every stroke of the paint having meaning and purpose. Or, there is the other interpretation, the one that makes the world look sad and unappealing with bland colors and concepts. But, I didn't like to think of it that way. If I'm going to live in my own fantasy world and believe that the world is a painting, it's going to be a happy colorful one damn it.

I stepped out of the room and made my way to the bathroom, god I looked terrible. My hair looked like a bird just laid eggs in it and my face was swollen from the night's rest. I’ve always been hypocritical about how I looked, but today it was just a joke. Did my look matter that much? Not really in the grand scheme of things but to me it was important. I work at a daycare and the thought of a parent thinking I looked like a bum on the street and questioning if I had good hygiene made me want to throw up. I spent the first hour and a half trying to make myself look better. I finally felt like a person again as I put my hair up. I gave myself a small smile in the mirror and it immediately fell.

*buzz buzz*

I looked down at my phone and saw the time, shit. I was late to work, again. I never woke up early to get ready and make myself feel like a person again. Now that I think about it, that's a bit of a problem. I went to the front door and grabbed my bag then rushed out the door. My job was the one thing that I really truly loved. Seeing the kids' faces light up when I enter the room and rush over to me to ask to play with them was always a highlight. It made me feel like my life did have purpose. All these kids relied on me while their parents worked or had a day to themselves, I’ve even become quite attached to a few of them. There was one kid that I look forward to seeing everyday, her name was Abby. She always had a smile on her face when she saw me grabbing my shirt practically begging if we could draw together. I would always spend most of my time drawing and playing games with her while the other daycare attendants played with the other kids. Abby didn't have a lot of friends and besides with you, she was often really quiet. I smiled at the thought of seeing Abby today. She should already be there by the time I walk through the daycare door.

And just as I suspected, when I came through the door, there she was. A big smile on her face, her hair curled slightly and she had on a pair of cute overalls. “Hey Abbs!” I gave her a soft smile and opened my arms. She came running over and gave me a huge squeeze. “I thought you weren't going to be here today, I got sad.” Abby said, looking up at me with her large doe eyes. I moved my hand to her head, messing up her hair a bit. “You know I don't miss a day kiddo.” She giggled in response, “come draw with me Y/N! I've been waiting all morning! I have an amazing idea of what kind of cats we can draw today” Abby dragged you over to the table with all the art supplies spewed about. That was Abby and I’s thing, drawing cats in different scenarios. You know pirate cats, president cats, the whole works. “What were you thinking?” I sat next to her and smiled. She made a small drumroll on the table with her fingers. “....zombie cats.” We both went silent as we looked at eachother then let out a small giggle. “Zombie cats it is then.” We spent that afternoon drawing zombie cats in different scenarios, zombie cats in the grocery store, getting hair cuts, driving cars and my personal favorite two zombie cats that were dressed like Abby and I.

“Y/N?” Abby put her green crayon down.

“Yes Abby?”

“You should meet my brother, he would like you.” Abby had the most serious look on her face and I giggled. “Really? Now why's that?”

“Well I like you and you're my friend so why wouldn't he like you.” She picked her crayon back up and continued to draw, “he likes all my friends.”

“He seems like a very nice Abby, I would love to meet him.” I gave her a soft smile.

“Abby?”

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This is my first fanfic so please be gentle….

yes there will be a part 2!!!

#five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #my fics #josh hutcherson renaissance #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike fnaf

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v1nsmoke · 2 months ago

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𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑲𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹 // 𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑹!𝒁𝑶𝑹𝑶 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟭

Attending a house party won't be a bad choice, at least that's what you think until something changes the course of the night, and everything turns into chaos.

Not to mention the after effects...

this is a multi-chapter work, with consistent updates on wattpad and ao3. i'd recommend checking those out since i tend to neglect tumblr lmao, or visit the masterlist to find all already published chapters here on tumblr.

tw: none (yet)

pairing: roronoa zoro x reader

genre: horror, drama, thriller

chapter: 1/? (visit the masterlist for other chapters!)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: rework of my oneshot from 2023, now expanded and multi-chapter! decided to divide the original oneshot into two chapters, the following chapters are all freshly written!

PLAYLIST (click on this, it'll lead you to spotify!!)

The cafeteria was bustling with people, just the average, daily experience. You munch on the horrid food they serve, the food you always tried to trade with the people who were smart enough to bring their own. You were lucky to have Sanji in your friend group, he always brought a bit of his own, delicious cooking, which Luffy would often steal.

"Here dear, I brought you some of your favourite!" Sanji exclaims, handing you a small portion of your favourite food with a smile on his face.

"Thanks, you're the best!" You take it and immediately dive in, hoping that you won't feel the taste of the cafeteria's food you finished a minute ago. While talking with Sanji, you could feel someone staring, but every time you looked around to check, there was nobody looking at you.

"Okay guys, last night I was thinking," Nami speaks up, now the whole group's attention focused on her as she stands up on the table. "Robin, you already know, I'm talking about what we discussed over the phone,” she smiles.

"Just spit it out," Zoro says, losing his patience with the orange haired girl.

"Since it's our last year here together, I was thinking about hosting a big halloween party! And everyone is invited! And I mean EVERYONE. If you know somebody outside this highschool, feel free to invite them! The party is going to be held on October 31st! That's a week for you to prepare your costumes and get ready for the best night of your lives!" She excitedly says.

The whole group and the people present at the cafeteria cheer for her, everyone in on the idea. You haven't attended a good halloween party in years, and when it comes to parties, you know it's in good hands with Nami.

~○~

You walk through the girl's locker room's door, the fencing helmet held in your hand since it won't fit in your bag.

"Thanks for waiting," You high five Zoro, standing at the entrance since he changed clothes faster. Maybe because he didn't spend a good twenty minutes with gossiping, or more like overhearing conversations going on about some random girl's personal life.

"So, what did they say?" You ask.

"What?" He looks at you bluntly.

"What do you mean 'what'? Oh. So you didn't ask them about the party,” You sigh as realisation hits you.

"I didn't ask them about the party," he repeats, almost sounding proud of himself.

"Nami is counting on us!"

"The whole cafeteria heard her, isn't that enough people? Is her house even that big?"

"Even if it isn't, she'll find a way to get all these people together. She's smart, you gotta give her that."

Just then, a guy trying to leave the fencing hall bumps into you by accident. He rapidly looks up, making you notice his strange shaped nose.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to!" He apologises.

"No, don't worry, it's nothing. I was the one standing in the doorway, it's not your fault,” You apologise back, picking up his bag that fell from his hands after the impact. He's about to leave, but you call out for him.

"Hey, uh, I was wondering if you could come to my friend's halloween party. October 31st. You in?" You shout, hoping he still hears you. The guy turns around, and shouts back a "sure" in response. "I'll send you the address, I think I have you on Instagram. Bye!"

The guy puts his thumb up and leaves. You turn back, and you're met with Zoro's eyes piercing trough you.

"What?" You ask, seeing he was clearly bothered by something.

"Nothing. Let's go." He sighs and heads towards his car, landing in the driver's seat.

"If you say so." You shrug and follow, getting in next to Zoro. You open your phone, and type in your address into Google Maps so that you won't have to guide him and his poor navigation skills. Sometimes you wonder how he got his driving license.

He stops at your house. You gather your fencing equipment, and step out of the car.

"Are you coming to Nami's party?" You hold the door open so you can speak with him.

"You sure sound very excited about it. I thought you hated parties, the people, drinks and all." He replies.

"I still do. But Nami and the others will be there, at least I won't feel alone. I want to see how it turns out. You still didn't answer me."

"I guess it's worth a try. She will probably buy the expensive drinks, someone's gotta try those out."

"You're saying that because you are an alcoholic, Zoro."

"I know. Bye." He grabs your door's handle and closes it, starts the engine and drives off.

"Yeah... Bye." You say to yourself.

You plop down on your bed, letting your body sink into the soft mattress. Maybe Zoro was right. Maybe you shouldn't go. Parties? You never attended them, the overwhelming amount of people and the disgusting smell of alcohol that would stay on your shirt keeping you away from these events.

But for God's sake, it will be hosted by Nami this time. She was your best friend ever since you started highschool, and she was also your number one supporter from the moment you two met. And now she was going to organise a huge halloween party with everyone invited, there's just no way you wouldn't attend it! Besides, all your other friends would be there, too! Robin or Sanji would definitely let you stick to their sides, you'd be safe there. You've got a whole week to get ready, both your costume and mentally.

~○~

Nami throws another ingredient in the cart, adding to the weight of it, making it even harder for you to push it forward.

"Did you even look at the price of it? Or are you just throwing in everything you see?" You ask your friend.

"We need all these, and I have the money for it. I just can't wait for tonight! This will be the party of the year, and I bet everyone will be talking about it tomorrow!" She exclaims, throwing another bag of potato chips your way. You catch it and place it on top of the heap of other food already in the cart.

"What will be your costume, Y/N?" Nami looks at you as the two of you join the line at the cash register.

"I couldn't come up with anything, I'll probaly go dressed as myself. Not very original, I know." You say as place the groceries on the conveyor belt one by one.

"Hm, I was looking forward to see you in some costume for once, but whatever." She sounds dissapointed, but at least she respects your decision.

After paying the crazy amount of money Nami decided to spend on snacks, you get into her car, heading straight towards her house. A few days ago you agreed to help her set up the party, but didn't expect it to be such a big thing. Sure, Nami was the host, so it's natural that she would plan something huge.

Her keys dingle in the front door's keyhole, and she opens it. Both your hands full with the bags, only being freed after you manage to drop them on her kitchen counter with a sigh.

"What should I help with?" You inquire, leaning on the white marble kitchen island.

"I was only thinking of helping with the groceries and now that's done, but if you're already here, could you put these into bowls? You know where to find them,” she motions at the snacks in the grocery bags.

Of course you knew, Nami invited you over more than a million times, you could swear you knew the whereabout of every small item in her house. You open a cupboard, grabbing a bunch of bowls from it.

"I've got some things to tend to, Usopp should be here in about twenty minutes," she waves before going upstairs to take care of whatever she needed to.

-○-

"Ayyy! I didn't expect you here! Only here to set things up, or staying for the party too?" Usopp hugs you upon entering.

"Weird to see me here, huh? I'll stay for the party too, though I will probably stay by somebody's side, likely Robin or Sanji, maybe you, we'll see," you hug him back.

"Only an hour before the others arrive, I'm so excited! It's gonna be fun, I promise, and if ya ever feel lonely, find me!" Usopp pulls away and the two of you share your own handshake that took days to perfect.

#v1nsmoke #one piece #eiichiro oda #fanfiction #wattpad #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro #alternative universe #modern au #slasher zoro x reader #slasher #slashers #horror #thriller #drama #horror fanfiction

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moon-like-u · 11 months ago

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the butterfly effect

pairing: jeon wonwoo/reader

genre: sci-fi i think, time travel au! kinda angst

word count: 1,794

warnings: may be confusing because it jumps from previous and present timelines

synopsis: wonwoo can time travel and will do everything just to make you happy

a/n: hello omg it has been two years since my last post! i accidentally stumbled on my draft for this au and decided to finish it. i didn't proofread this anymore so hopefully it still makes sense by the end and that it's not too rushed ^___^ also i hope the narrative is not confusing with all the reminisces lol this felt long but apparently both junhui and joshua aus are still longer ahaha

You had warned him.

You already warned him that this would happen, but he was too stubborn to follow. Wonwoo feels the early afternoon air against his face as he walks the streets of the city with one destination in mind: the coffee shop, Hanabira.

He knows these streets all too well; the few apartment buildings among different restaurants and small businesses that seemingly fall together, the trees and light posts lining up the streets, the idle chatter of people, a string familiar of faces, even the cracks in the gravel full of perennial plants – all of these fell into place fitting like a puzzle, just like you and him, he thought.

It was also in these streets that he discovered his ability to time travel many years ago. Ever since then, he felt as if a huge responsibility rested upon his shoulders and at the same time, felt like nothing mattered, everything and anything was temporary – well, until he met you. You who drink coffee as if it were water, you who choose to walk with him on this very same street every time he asks you to, you who remember every single detail of your (and his) favorite books, plays, and songs and still manage to become forgetful. You who became the permanent fixture in his life among those that faded away.

He thinks back to when he asked what would you do if you had the ability to time travel. You had said that it would be a big responsibility to have, after all, you can change a lot of things that can alter human history. In terms of your personal life, you told Wonwoo that you would leave it exactly as it is.

The afternoon light was streaming through the blinds of his room, creatively lighting up the room as the both of you lounge on his bed. Wonwoo grabbed your hand as you sat up on your elbows.

“I’d rather not change anything in the past. Everything felt circumstantial, you know?” you pondered. “The day I met you, I wouldn’t change a thing. I love you and I want to meet you the very second we did.”

The bell on the door of Hanabira jingles as he walks in, the smell of coffee and vanilla greeting him. He remembers the day you met as if it were just yesterday. He smiles lightly as he recalls it.

During the middle of the day, Hanabira was booming with customers in line to get their cup of coffee and baked pastries. It was not a surprise that there was a long line that almost reached the entrance door. However, the peak hour was not the only reason why the line is long— you were there, holding up the line because you were short 10 won.

Wonwoo sees the panic in your eyes as you dig up your wallet, bag, and pockets to find nothing but a few paper receipts. He can’t help but notice how you already had a large coffee stain on your torso, coffee you probably spilled hours before. “Here,” he said as he gave the cashier 10 won, realizing he must put you out of your misery.

“Thank you,” you breathed out. “I’m not usually unprepared like this, if you don’t mind to keep in contact so I can pay you back.”

Wonwoo was surprised to see you look like you’re about to cry, wearing a coffee-stained long-sleeved shirt, and yet, you had this determined look on your face as if he just paid 1,000 won instead of 10.

“Sure,” he replies, speechless.

The rest was history. Wonwoo was glad he had 10 won to spare that day, for he felt like he was the luckiest man to have met you. He still does. Wonwoo would do everything just to see you happy. Wonwoo walked into Hanabira, taking in the place. It gives him a little comfort seeing how everything is still the same—it still looks like the same favorite place you ever so loved.

He looked over to the corner where the both of you sat and when you had poured your heart out to him. He remembered how you opened up to him that day in this very coffee shop, thinking that a heart-wrenching conversation with a random (cute) stranger that you would probably never meet again would help ease the pain. Wonwoo recalled how you explained to him that the reason you were tense and bought coffee with not enough money was that you missed an interview for a screenwriter position, your dream job. He found it ridiculous that you would not even change this part of your past if given the ability to time travel.

“But that interview was your dream, wouldn’t you at least try to change the past and attend the interview like you always wanted?” Wonwoo asks.

“Well, yeah. It is my dream. But still, I know I can do my best even without that interview. Even if I have to do other positions first before being promoted to a screenwriter. I know I’ll get there,” you said wistfully. “Besides, if I made it to that interview, I wouldn’t have met you, you know. And I couldn’t have that!” you said teasingly.

Wonwoo had laughed along with you then, but it got him thinking. It has been your dream since you were a kid. He remembers how you passionately defended the beauty of being a screenwriter when he expressed that being a director sounded more appealing, just to tease you.

“Screenwriters bring the magic directors can show. One is not above the other—both are staples to create something so beautiful in harmony through plays, movies and the like!” you attested.

It took you a while to realize that he was just messing with you, a feat that was rewarded with a slap in the arm. But it was then that he knew how much this meant to you. And Wonwoo, well, he wanted to give everything to you—even the world, if he can.

If there was one thing that Wonwoo learned and proved with his time travel abilities, it was the chaos theory, specifically the butterfly effect. It amused him how little changes really do cause big changes in a course of events, which is why he had to be careful and think about the repercussions of changing anything as little as moving the position of a park bench. It was how he just changed the batteries of a certain bus driver’s alarm clock that caused you to ride a bus that did not have reckless driving skills, which meant that you did not spill your coffee all over yourself and your resume. Which means that you had successfully entered the interview of your dream job, prepared, polished, and caffeinated.

“Sir? Excuse me, sir? I said that would be 4,400 won,” the cashier calls out.

Wonwoo snapped out of his reverie and handed the cashier his bills, “Sorry, I spaced out. Thank you.”

It has been three years in the timeline where you made it to the interview. You made it, Y/N, Wonwoo thinks as he sees your name is becoming known in the film industry. He wanted to celebrate with you, but in this timeline, he would just be another stranger to you. He knew this would happen, but he still went on and change the past despite you refuting the idea before.

“What if we still meet afterwards, in another day? Would you change the past this time?” he asks you.

You hummed, “It’s a risk, I still wouldn’t do it if I don’t have the reassurance that we’ll meet again.”

“I’m sure we’ll meet again in this scenario.”

“How sure are you? I think it was because of our decisions that day that we met, so, I still wouldn’t change a thing even though it would get me to that interview,” you said while tracing circles on his arm.

“No, I think it’s because of fate that we met,” he replied.

You raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes, “I didn’t take you for a sappy romantic.”

He chuckled, you felt the reverberations on his chest, “No, I just think we’re fated together, Y/N. I think that even if you were a popular, in-demand screenwriter, we’d still find our way to each other.”

“So in this scenario I'm popular and in-demand you say? What if I turn into a snob and refuse to meet you with all that fueling my ego?” you laughed.

“All the more why I should be there to pull you back down!” Wonwoo responded, suddenly attempting to tickle you. You laughed at the unexpected attack and responded with the same action. Both of you were lost in a series of laughs and tangled limbs.

Wonwoo recalled the memory with a bittersweet feeling. Of course, he considered looking for you and introducing himself, but he couldn’t think of a way that would not make him look like a madman. Hi, I’m Wonwoo. You were the love of my life in another timeline? He had not even told you of his time travel abilities before. He went to all the previous places you used to live in, but you never resided there in the present timeline. You had warned him that this would be a big change, that it would come with the risks of not meeting each other—and yet, he went ahead and did it. Still, he does not regret he did it. He just wishes he could be there to see you happy to have achieved your lifelong dream.

Back in the coffee shop, Wonwoo decided to take a walk outside with a sigh. We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it, he thinks. As soon as he went out Hanabira, he collided with someone and spilled the remainder of his now cold coffee onto the floor. Wonwoo noticed the dog first, and looked at the person. It was you.

“I am so sorry! My dog suddenly dragged me and ran all the way here, I swear he doesn’t usually get like this!” you said apologetically.

“It’s okay, he was probably just excited,” Wonwoo chuckled, as he kneeled down and petted the dog. Well, aren’t you a good boy, he thinks as he continues to pet the dog.

“Yeah, he loves walking in this part of the city!” you said, relieved. “I’m sorry I spilled your coffee though, how can I make it up to you?”

Wonwoo looks up at you with a smile, “What about a coffee for a coffee?” I told you it’s fate Y/N, we are just destined together in every timeline, he thinks. He stood up, reached out his hand, and said “Wonwoo, by the way.”

You smiled, “Y/N.”

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braxlrose · 2 years ago

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can you do the headcanons of Tokio Hotel and fem!reader whose main priority is to take care of them? in the sense that she puts their feelings before her own? like lacing their shoes, giving them flowers, making them happy, etc. 😭 literally bro overwhelms them with this tenderness.. fuck..in my head how they randomly walk along the sidewalk and suddenly she crouches and she ties their untied shoe 😭😭 or out of nowhere she gives them a flower because it reminds her of him😭 FUCK OR HOW SHE GIVES THEM DRINK FROM HER DRINK OHM🫡

me with a flower for Bill:

a/n: sorry that this took me so long to get too, but I hope you enjoy this and I hope you feel better!

tokio hotel x f!reader who takes care of them

• the whole band is so grateful for you. you're so sweet to them and are always helping them with stuff even when they didn't ask for it. they don't know what they'd do without you.

• whenever it's cold out, you're basically their mother. you buy them gloves/mittens, hats, jackets, scarves, everything. and you won't let them leave until you know they're warm.

• you will literally stand in the bathroom door and won't let them leave until they've finished brushing their teeth 💀 they complain about it, but at the end of the day, they all have pearly white.

• when they get sick, which isn't often because of you, but you won't leave their sides. you make them soup, and get them medicine, read to them. just sit with them and make sure they get rest.

• bringing them waterbottles after concerts so they aren't dehydrated after being on stage for so long.

• when you guys go on walks you're constantly bending down to tie their shoes because apparently they just lack the ability to do that 💀 they've told you like a million times you don't need to, but the last time you didn't, tom almost fell flat on his face

• you always stop and get them coffees in the morning. and you have their coffee orders memorized down to the last detail.

• sometimes you tire yourself out taking care of them but you can't seem to stop. it just helps you and makes you happy knowing you can take care of someone else and that you can make them feel safe and happy. and it helps you feel needed.

• the guys always thank you for everything you do. they want you to know that they would be nowhere without you helping them.

• because you were taking care of them so much, you forgot to eat all day and ended up passing out. they got so fucking scared. tom, bill and gustav were all freaking out while georg was the only one using common sense 💀 they eventually got you to wake up and they were all apologizing like crazy for taking advantage of everything you do (even though they werent) . and they treated you like a princess for the rest of the week.

• they literally get so happy whenever you cook for them. and bill and tom are really happy whenever you cook them vegetarian meals because he knows you cook other stuff for georg and gustav, so it means a lot to them whenever you go out of your way to make them food.

• they all seem to just suck at packing their bags for when they have to go on flights so they always ask you to help them with packing. you're really good at folding their clothes into their bags and making everything neat and tidy.

• whenever you're at a hotel room, you will make sure their rooms are clean. and by that I mean you will glare at them to death if they leave a plate or food on the floor because you know you'd eventually be picking it up if they didn't. after a while, they learned how to be clean because they felt really bad you were always doing stuff for them.

• you're always comforting bill whenever an interviewer says something about his appearance. or you'll say something to the interviewer.

• "so bill, we've noticed that you're the only one that dresses likethat? Isn't it kind of weird, why don't you just dress like normal?"

• and bill just kind of sits there awkwardly laughing until you're like, "oh you know it's just this crazy thing called he likes his style." in a sarcastic and mocking voice which shuts the interviewer up pretty quick.

• if you're ever out walking and you see a flower you really like you'll always pick some and bring them back to the band

• buying clothes for the band if you see something in a shop they'd really like.

• if they're super tired after a concert, and you guys haven't gone to a party, you'll tuck them all into bed and give them a kiss on the forehead before saying good night.

• you're always making sure to keep an eye on them at parties, making sure they don't drink too much or get into any fights. you usually only have a couple drinks or less because you're the designated driver, but sometimes they can loosen you up and get you to have some more fun if you guys plan on taking an uber.

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam @5hyslv7 @killed-kiss @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz

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fallenwhumpee · 1 year ago

Text

Back

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Masterlist •

Warnings: inexplicit injury, strangling, military settings.

Leader pulled their legs up, trying to fit into the narrow gap of the bus seat. They hugged their bag, not really liking the fact that it restricted their movements, but also refusing to keep it out of their range. They just wanted to leave before someone changed their mind and sent them back.

The bus filled slowly as Leader sat still. Their muscles tensed quite a little when someone sat next to them, but they covered it as if they were just fixing their position. They wondered if they could ever get used to civilian life after everything. They sighed and relaxed all their muscles, letting go of the tenderness and hoping that it would help with occasional tremors.

When the bus's engine shook the whole vehicle, Leader let their head drop to their bag, their worn-down body begging for their mind to shut down. But as always, they were thinking too much, and it was impossible to sleep with strangers around. They simply kept staring around, trying to ease their suspicion.

Within the first hour on the bus, the majority of passengers fell asleep. Leader wished they were among that crowd, but they never got what they wanted. The seat in front of them leaned back not long after, cramping the small space even more. With a silent curse, they stretched their arms at least, beginning to feel sore already.

They thought that things couldn't get any worse. They were wrong.

After six hours of misery, the bus pulled over absurdly. Leader would hit their head if they weren't so squished to their place.

"Routine control, everyone out," an officer barked through the doors. Leader didn't move immediately, waiting until everyone had gone out and made their way to the officer who looked like they were in charge.

Leader took out their military ID, hoping it would get them a softer approach.

"That's not going to clear you," the officer muttered.

"I only wish to be searched in private," Leader replied. They knew their badge would clear them, but they didn't have the energy to do so. "If that's not much trouble, of course. I don't want to scare people because..." Leader opened their bag slightly, revealing the handle of their gun.

The officer eyed Leader warily before nodding. "Follow me," they said, directing Leader to the back of the police car.

Leader followed silently, gripping their bag tighter as they reached for their wallet to prepare their licence along with their badge marking them as a captain, even though the officer didn't spare a glance at it. The cool night air and the distant murmur of other passengers being searched filled the silence between them.

The officer took the paper as if they were ripping it. Leader was getting a bad feeling, but they didn't want to cause trouble. They were too tired for it anyway. With a sigh, they leaned on the car slightly, trying to get the weight off of their right side.

The officer eyed them, scoffing and muttering something about respect under their breath. They inspected the documents closely, his eyes narrowing as he read the details. "You've been discharged recently?"

"Yes," Leader answered, shortly and perhaps unnecessarily cold.

"Annual leave?"

"Medical leave. I shouldn't be on my feet for too long," Leader almost snarled. The officer - probably didn't notice or just ignored - simply pointed the bag. Leader complied, even if it was the last thing they wanted. They simply looked away, realising that they were truly nowhere. Their eyes were yet to adjust to the lights changing, and the flashers weren't helping, but there was nothing around.

Because that person standing in the middle of the road was just their weary mind playing tricks.

They turned back when the figure dissolved into the air.

The officer searched with such passion that Leader suspected that they had a personal vendetta against the military. Finally, the officer dropped their bag on the bonnet. "Everything seems to be in order. Pack your stuff inside the car."

Leader frowned. "Here will suffice. I'm not getting into the car if you're not arresting me."

"Just get in; I don't want to draw a gun against a soldier, and you seem decent enough to avoid trouble."

Why couldn't they have a peaceful day?

Leader sighed. There was no point in resisting. They quickly tucked everything back in their bag and got into the car. "At least tell me where we are going," they muttered, not bothering with the facade any longer. They were just as annoyed as the officer.

"The military base around here was adamant about receiving you."

Perfect, Leader didn't say. "Routine control my ass," they muttered instead, not able to stop it.

"I am not fit for duty," they informed the officer. Leader didn't think they would ever be, but self-pity wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"Not my problem. Tell that to your people."

Leader sighed quietly - again, they were beginning to develop it as a habit now, much to their annoyance - as they settled into the uncomfortable seat of the police car.

The journey to the military base was silent except for the occasional radio chatter from the officer's walkie-talkie. Leader busied themselves with memorising the names and following the sequence, and surprisingly, they found that they enjoyed listening to some cops trying to catch an amateur thief.

When the car stopped, the officer didn't say anything, but the door lock opened. Leader got out quickly and kept their bag in their hand. It was hard to see somewhere so bustling again. They felt like their mind was tugged with needles from every direction. They cursed their senses not for the first time, and watched as the police car left without a warning.

Leader's shoulders tensed out of their control. They quickly walked to the base, showing their ID to the security. A private escorted them inside, no words exchanged. They were led to an interrogation room, which explained so little but confirmed Leader's worries.

Leader was ushered in without a word. They sat in one of the two chair - to the further one from the door as a sign of trust and acknowledgement of authority - and read the files before them. Their breath caught on their throat when they got to the second, however.

Medic, missing in action.

The team was disbanded. How could...

They flipped the page. They wished they didn't.

"I was going to ask you about that."

Leader flinched. "Major," they greeted with a rushed salute.

And nothing after that happened in a blink. Leader saw Major walking over them with a hostile face. They saw the hand rising and the leg swiping their foot. They saw the other hand starting to move to their stomach.

If the attack is coming from a friend, don't resist.

Just like that. They didn't resist as they were slammed to the floor, their superior on their throat. Leader struggled to breathe as the punch shook their empty stomach, their hands grabbing the hand keeping them down, even though they were not doing anything to stop it.

"Why is your teammate kidnapping your medic?"

What?

"Don't look at me like that. What do you know?"

A punch to their face pulled them from the shock.

"I don't know," Leader forced out.

The hand around their throat tightened—

For once, they wanted to give in to the tempting anger. It would be so easy, so easy to crush the arms holding them, but their wishes never ruled over the will.

They were let go. Major offered them a hand, and Leader accepted it without a second thought.

"I didn't realise that their teachings went that deep. You could easily save yourself. I doubt this base can keep you in."

Leader doubted that too, especially when their restraints were getting loose every moment.

"Some things go deeper than simple teachings," Leader answered after realising that they had drifted for a moment. They pulled the chair and sat down, sighing to release some of the built tension.

"They made you from fine stuff. Now, any idea why one of your teammates went rouge and kidnapped the other?"

Leader's hand began to tremble. It was the worst possible time. They hid their hand with the other rather clumsily, drawing attention.

"Why do you run away from the only place that can fix you?"

"If I'm called back only for these questions, I wish to continue my leave," Leader bit back a harsher response. They would never walk back to the place that had broken them in the first place.

"No. Your leave ends before it starts. I want you back on your team— at least what left of it."

#anyone would be interested if i made this into a series?#anyway #whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #inexplicit injury #strangling #military settings #spoiler alert for the next tag->#implied lab whump

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xoxo-sarah · 1 year ago

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Could you write something where you are new and in almost all of robins classes, but the more you get to know each other, the more you hang out. She starts to think maybe your friendship is more than what she thought it was, like shes feeling something she knows that you shouldnt feel for a friend

Torture

↝a/n: thank you for requesting. 🩷 This is kinda cute (but rushed)

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

↝warning: not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Buckley, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 4.24.24

In a bustling hallway of Hawkins High, you nervously navigate your first day, feeling lost among the sea of unfamiliar faces. Until a sweet voice calls out.

"You look lost. Need a hand?"

Looking up, you didn't know what to say at first. She was the first person to talk to you, even with all the kids around you. No one paid you the time of day, too caught up in their own highschool drama.

The girl offers a smile, pointing towards the paper with your classes. You nervously chuckle, handing the paper over. She quickly glanced at it, before dragging you to the first class, which you so happened to have together.

She was nice and funny. It was easy to get along with her. When she wasn't talking about the newest thing or telling you about the school and people in it, she was listening to you and your story of how you ended up in Hawkins. She listened. Something not many teenagers do.

It didn't take long for you two to become close. You walked together in the halls, did homework together, went over to each other's houses, called after school, kept each other updated on the drama that happened in the classes you don't have together. It was amazing to have someone to talk to after moving to a new town.

It was torture for Robin.

Don't get her wrong, she adored you. Maybe even a little too much.

She started off seeing you as a friend. You were nice and funny. But apparently that's her type. She started noticing how you put your hair behind your ear as you smiled, the creases next to your lips as you smile- how your eyes crinkle as well. She loved the color red on you. She wanted to spend every moment with you.

It was unhealthy, she thought. It wouldn't cause anything but trouble. But she wasn't one to just end something. Especially when it meant so much to not only her, but you. Was she just supposed to drop you one day? Leave you alone in the sea of sharks? She wasn't that type of person, so she'd have to endure the unspoken rejection.

"That doesn't make sense." Robin watched your eyebrows furrow, not noticing her lips lightly pull into an amused grin. You were adorable when confused. "Biology is a bitch."

"couldn't agree more." She shut her book, pulling her bag from beside your bed and started putting everything in it.

"what're you doing? I thought we had more to study?" There you were, making it hard for her to just see you as a friend. With your pretty eyes, lips, cheeks.

"I have errands to run. Sorry." She stood, moving to put her backpack on.

"are you going to walk? I drove you here."

Robin stumbled over her words. She forgot about that, even with her standing in your room. There's no way she was going to stay there , inhaling your smell that was on everything. It was torture. "It's not that far of a walk."

You stood, smiling as you walked over to your desk chair, putting your jacket on. "Don't be silly. I need fresh air anyway."

"No."

You paused with one arm in your jacket. "What?"

She sighed, looking up at your ceiling. "I just...I just need some time away from you." Ouch. She could've worded that better. Didn't stop it from being true.

"oh-yeah...yeah of course." Your jacket fell from your arm, landing back in the seat of the chair. "It is a long walk though. I can get my mom to take you home."

Robin sighed, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Care so much."

You walked over to your bed and slumped down on it, looking at her confused. "Because you're my friend? I'm supposed to care."

She nodded slowly, biting her lip. "Why do you have to? You make it so much harder than it has to be."

"I'm confused, Robin."

"I shouldn't feel this way about you."

It was quiet for a moment, until you broke it with a whisper. "What way?"

Llike I like you." Robin managed to spit out, instantly regretting it as your face dropped.

"Robin..."

She was quick to make her way to your door, grabbing the handle. "I'm just going to go-"

"You don't have to. We can talk this out-please don't go."

"I made things awkward."

"No you didn't."

She felt a hand on her elbow, too scared to turn around. You were right there, with her secret just aired out. Were you going to laugh at her? Spread it around school? She knew you weren't the type, but you can't be too sure.

"I like you too, Robin."

"Really?" She hated how fast she asked, but didn't care when she met your eyes. You offered her a sweet smile, eyes crinkling and all.

"Yeah, I didn't know if it was romantic feelings or not. But after Tonight, I kind of got my answer. I really, really like you."

"In that case," her backpack slid to the floor, her arms going around you. "I don't have errands."

"Good," you grabbed her hand, turning and dragging her back towards your bed and the open book that laid on your covers. "I still need to help with biology."

"Why must you torture me?"

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 9 months ago

Note

😶: Hector from Premature Show

🥰+🎯: dealer's choice! Whatever you want to write about him - I just wanna see this guy get some love!!

Love Is Messy (And That's a Good Thing) - Hector/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, an abundance of cuteness.

Wordcount: 8969

Summary: Your neighbours were all weird as hell, but it takes a crash in the hall to make you realize that that might be exactly what you need in your life.

Notes: When I started this, I told myself it'd be a super quick one and then I'd be able to blast through the next. Cue days later and me somehow writing this much. I love this man!! He's so freakin adorable oh my god!! Once again I adore it when DD plays villains, but it's his cute characters that steal my heart and I took one look at Hector and fell hard so even though burnout has been kicking my ass again I still enjoyed every second of this one. And he's a chef! I'm always writing comfort food sections and finally I get to write a chef /)w(\ I really hope you enjoy, thank you so much for asking for him 💗💗💗

Big City Living wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and you'd learned that the moment you arrived at your new apartment. It was smaller than the website promised you with its clearly doctored photos, and while the rent was at least nice and affordable despite it being New York, the neighbours were, to put it lightly, weird as hell.

Grace was fine, she seemed normal enough, but it was everyone else that made you walk a little faster as soon as you reached your shared floor, Denzel's advances constantly unwanted as his roommate hid in the safety of the living room beyond the door. You'd heard him talk with the two of them before, their voices carrying through the walls and lifting up to your window when they were outside, so you knew he could be sociable, but when it came to you he outright avoided you the moment you happened near. He would only really talk to them, in fact, they seemed almost inseparable by now, and that was great for them, but you weren't about to join in on the weird festivities of dressing her in odd fashion for interviews and the other one apparently pretending to be her boyfriend to impress her boss.

You didn't think you even knew his name, since he was the only one who had yet to approach you when you joined their floor, and the moment you'd tried to be somewhat social and introduce yourself just to finish the trio he'd jerked away from your hand and rushed out of the elevator as soon as it dinged and freed him. You didn't try again after that, clearly this guy wasn't interested in making more friends, so you wouldn't force things and insert yourself into his life.

Unlike his friend, who was constantly and without fail trying to prove to you how great of a catch he was the second you appeared in his view.

It'd been a few months now and your deceptively small apartment was now filled to the brim with everything you'd thought you'd have space for. It was a bit cramped, but it was all yours, and it was right next to the subway so you didn't have to worry about driving or taxis, so you'd cherish your small slice of heaven for as long as you could. You'd just finished cleaning, dust gathered fast when everything was so cluttered, and were in the middle of carrying the bags to the trash chute when the door next to yours opened and The Other One walked out. You bumped into him when you noticed too late, his arms shooting up to his chest as he attempted to avoid the bag in your hand, his eyes open wide in terror like you were about to splash him with toxic sludge and turn him into a laughing villain.

‘Sorry, didn't see you there,’ you quickly apologized as he pressed himself to the wall, and he looked to the bags before pulling a bottle of sanitizer from his pocket; he washed his hands, then his arm where you'd hit him, and you felt slightly offended until you realized that oh, he wasn't doing this because of cooties or a bit or something, he was serious. ‘It's just some used paper towels and a bit of cleaning wipes, nothing too bad,’ you offered to console him but still he flinched like that was somehow even worse.

‘Still used, and filthy, but thank you,’ he said, and it was the first time you'd heard his voice in person you realized as he finished up and put the small bottle back into his pocket.

‘Oh, well, at least it's all safe in the bag,’ you tried next, and he looked ready to argue before he swallowed it down and gave you a smile.

‘Yeah, safe in the bag,’ he agreed stiffly yet politely, and you smiled back before continuing to the chute. ‘I'm Hector, by the way, I know we haven't been properly introduced since you arrived.’

‘It seems we haven't,’ you said as you spun on your heel to face him again, your own name finally stated as his smile turned more genuine.

‘It's nice to meet you, and- if I may say, the next time you're preparing any sort of meat, you should really wear gloves and use a properly sanitized cutting board, I noticed that you used the barbecue out in the yard the other day and just… placed the meat right on the tray while you waited.’

‘You were… watching me grill?’ you asked with a bit of a chuckle, you hadn't expected that one.

‘No-! Well, the window was open, and it was making Denzel hungry so he asked me to see if we knew who was out there, y'know, so we could grab a bite, and when I saw how you were preparing everything-’

‘Are you some kinda chef?’ you asked as a joke, but to your surprise he nodded.

‘I am, well, I'm in between cooking jobs, at the moment, but I did get my degree in it, so regardless I call myself a chef, yes,’ he explained, and you looked him over and decided that you couldn't picture him in a Hell’s Kitchen type scenario at all between the shyness and the nearly discovered mysophobia.

‘Huh, well then, the next time I'm in the mood for burgers I'll knock on your door, if you'd like? So you can show me the correct way to do it?’ you suggested in a friendly manner now that you saw that he wasn't nearly as bad as you'd feared considering who he roomed with, and he mulled it over for just a moment before giving a small sway on one heel and pushing his longish hair behind his ear, he seemed actually excited about it, and it was honestly pretty cute.

‘I'd really like that, actually, been a while since I got to cook for anyone that wasn't him, I might have to get out the book of recipes I wrote up while I was studying.’

‘I don't think you need to go that far just for burgers,’ you laughed, and when he looked disappointed you were quick to continue, ‘but maybe we could do some kinda potluck another time? I don't mean to brag, but I can make a damn good bowl of store-bought potato salad.’

It took him a moment to get it, but when he did he laughed so hard that it caught the attention of Denzel, who rushed out to see what he was missing before his eyes landed on you. ‘So you're the reason for all the commotion out here, you two getting friendly without me?’ he smirked as he straightened his hair, his cheese-dusted fingers leaving streaks of orange that he quickly brushed out thanks to Hector flinching and pointing at it.

‘Just throwing out some trash,’ you told him before continuing down the hall, his voice following after you as he jogged to catch up.

‘That's cool, hey, we were actually gunna take Grace out tonight to celebrate her latest gig, you wanna tag along, see where the night takes you?’ He wiggled his eyebrows at you while the rest of his face remained dead serious, and you looked between them and his eyes before shaking your head.

‘I can't, I have work in the morning, but thank you,’ you replied before slipping between him and the wall and heading back for your door.

‘That's cool too, y'know we're free all week, very flexible schedule, we can hit you up for Round 2 when you're off work,’ he said as he followed again, Hector silently apologizing for his forwardness in place of his friend's lack of social awareness, clearly this really did happen often.

‘I'll be swamped all week, but I'll let you know.’ You shut your door behind you as he kept talking through the old wood, Hector whispering for him to let it go before it fell silent, and you sighed to yourself with a smile as you leaned back; guess you were making friends here whether you liked it or not.

The weather took a bit of a turn, everything way too hot to allow you to stand out in the sun in front of a hot grill for hours. You stuck to your unairconditioned home instead as soon as you got off work, an emergency fan brought and barely cooling you as it spun back and forth while you sprawled out on your couch in discomfort. This was hell, this might actually be Hell itself you decided as your brief breeze grazed over you and gave you a moment of reprieve.

You were in the middle of considering filling your bath with ice and hopping in when a knock came to your door, and you tried to get up when you just sank back down and made a noise for them to enter, you hadn't locked it in your hurry to set up your new fan. The door creaked open after some muffled conversation on the other side, and you didn't have to look to know who it was as Denzel let himself right in and headed for your fan. ‘I feel like there's a presence in here, a heavy one,’ he said lowly and mysteriously as he stepped into the heat between the oscillations, and you couldn't even fake a laugh as he blocked your breeze.

‘It's you, it's always you,’ Grace told him as she also appeared, and this time you did sit up and face the door at the sound of her voice. You'd only talked once or twice in the elevator, and you knew she was nice enough to have the patience to put up with Denzel, but you hadn't expected a party when Hector came in last.

‘Hi, again, uh… we noticed that you might be having the same problem as us, so we thought-’

‘You might appreciate the party coming to you, complete with cold drinks and frozen foods,’ Denzel finished for him, a very cold and condensating soda tossed into your lap and making you yelp before he took the couch seat next to you. ‘Listen, it's come to my attention that we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here, so I brought you a little peace offering to know that it's all good, you're still free to hang with us whenever you want, you don't have to be intimidated by me.’

You still had no energy to do anything other than press the cold bottle to your neck and cheeks and slowly blink in the heat.

‘What my roommate is trying to say, is that he's sorry about last time,’ Hector translated for you as he approached the front of your couch but didn't sit, and you took no offense to it when you saw just how intense his mysophobia could be even over something like a slightly sweaty couch. ‘And that, since you're so busy, we might share our Cooldown Party with you, since our units are also temporarily out. Well, more like a gathering, really, Grace and I aren't much for parties, maybe just a get together, actually.’

‘My mom sent me some cookies, and Hector made this really yummy frozen pie,’ Grace said as she brought the treats over, and it did look damn good under what appeared to be a mummy's worth of plastic wrap over the case to keep the pie extra safe.

‘It's an easy recipe, it's mostly just pudding,’ he revealed, but he still looked away with a smile when you hungrily looked over the chilled dessert.

‘I'll take anything if it cools me down, lemme grab some plates, I also bought some Popsicles earlier, and I can just slightly heat up the lasagna I started on yesterday, if you want?’ you offered as you stood, your outfit sticking to your entire back and making Hector cringe again at the sight of it.

‘Yay to the Popsicles, nay to the lasagna, you got anything like potato salad or macaroni salad? Any of the fun salads other than actual salad?’ Hector asked as he spread himself out next and turned on your TV to find a movie, guess everyone was staying.

‘I have a bit of a wrap I bought for lunch and never finished?’ you called over as you searched your fridge, and Grace gave him a bit of a slap before joining you.

‘Don't feed him, he just ate,’ she whispered to you before finding your plates, and you got out the lasagna and started heating it properly no matter how much you wish you had more cold things. ‘I can bring over something else, so we don't eat all your leftovers, if you'd like?’

‘It's fine, half of this would've probably gone to waste by the end of the week,’ you figured as the microwave dinged, and you didn't notice the presence until you felt cold air flow over your back; instantly your head fell back with a moan, it was divine, and Denzel let out a very interested, ‘Whoaaaaaa,’ from the couch at the sound of it as you turned to see the cause. Hector took a step back, the tissue still protecting his fingers as he quickly apologized, apparently your shirt sticking to you and keeping you hot had bothered him just that much, and you waved it off before fixing your shorts yourself.

‘Thank you, I was just gunna leave it,’ you laughed, your face red at the embarrassing sound you'd made on pure instinct, but he still apologized again before tossing out the tissue and washing his hands for good measure.

‘Denzel, come help me grab something from my kitchen,’ Grace said suddenly as she stood next to you, said man just letting out a noise of disinterest as he watched his movie. ‘There aren't enough places to sit, help me bring over a chair,’ she repeated, and when he didn't get up she pinched him by the ear and dragged him to his feet. You watched the two of them go before shrugging and moving over to your fan, the now freed back of your shirt lifted so the air could travel under and cool you enough to enjoy the lasagna you were now very hungry for.

‘Sorry again, I know it wasn't very sanitary to do it in the kitchen but you looked like you were uncomfortable,’ he repeated again, his glasses fogging in the heat as he tried not to watch you when you spun to lift the front of your shirt forward next.

‘I very much was,’ you confirmed, and when you were nice and cool you offered him the chance to do the same since he was all buttoned up and looking ready to go to work or a meeting or something. ‘How about you? Don't you own any t-shirts or anything?’

‘Oh, no, not my style,’ he said with a soft laugh, and while the button down and khaki pants did suit him well, you could see the sheen on his forehead from you hogging all the fan.

‘Well, at least take the fan, if you have nothing more breathable,’ you suggested, and he thought about it before shaking his head and nearly pressing himself to your wall before jumping away like it'd burned him, although in this heat it might've.

‘No thank you, you don't need my sweat and body odour and dead skin flying through the air, getting on your things, I'll be fine,’ he lied, and you hummed to yourself before circling behind him and seeing that he was in the same predicament as you'd been; his shirt was tucked in and the entire top was stuck to him, and you stared at the damp material before grabbing it and yanking it free. ‘Wha- what're you-?’ he yelped as he spun around but you just spun with him, pulling his shirt free and letting the fan do the rest as he got caught in the breeze, and you felt satisfied as he also let out a loud sigh of relief.

‘I know you don't like touching, but you looked like you were pretty uncomfortable too,’ you admitted as you washed your hands to make him feel better, but he'd forgotten all about his turmoil as he leaned over the cover and let it bring down his internal temperature that was currently set to Boiling. You just smiled and gave him some space so he'd feel less self-conscious about his sweat and body odour and, God forbid, dead skin floating through the air with a small chuckle, and when the others returned with the chairs you ended up making sure he stole the other half of the couch this time instead of Denzel.

The weather evened out again just as the AC was fixed, and the next time you had a party/gathering/get together it was outside in the actual breeze with the grill fired up at last. You knew by now that both Hector and Denzel were between jobs at the moment, so it took a careful script of asking him to help you clean your bathroom, the worst room in the home, in order to sneak him away without the temptation of Denzel following until everything was ready. You held your fingers to your lips to keep him quiet as you got him to help you bring everything outside, of course you were the one to handle the burgers and other raw meats, and he preferred the plates and forks and other needed utensils very much as you made your way to the barbecue.

You'd made sure to book it just in case, you weren't sure how this shared space went outside of first come first serve pretty much, since that was how you'd nabbed it the first time, and he filled you in on everything as a now longtime resident. ‘Basically there's a clipboard out in the lobby, y'know the one by the front desk? It has several pages for stuff like lost things and requests to the super, but on page 4 it also has whoever books the barbecue so everyone can check and write down their name if something comes up,’ he told you as you hauled the picnic table a little closer, his hands covered in two pairs of sanitary gloves since the table lived outside and was covered in way too much to touch otherwise.

‘I'd seen that but I just thought it was all for lost and found,’ you said as you cracked your back, he was strong but he also had a tendency to keep stopping when his hand shifted too close to something undesirable, and as such his gripping area was pretty limited and made the task take longer than it should've.

‘Nope, we used to have a bulletin board for it so all the pages were spaced out, but then Mr. Katz expanded the front desk and that area became unavailable to residents, so now we just use the clipboard, you'll get used to it.’ He was talking a lot more and a lot easier as well, you noted with a smile as he also cracked his back, his hands far away from himself as he stretched out his hands and leaned back as far as his spine would allow, which wasn't very far.

‘Good to know, I'll remember that for next time; so, how're you gunna teach me, Chef?’ you teased as you motioned to the things you'd prepared, and he gave you a smirk before ditching the gloves, tossing them into the nearby trash from a safe distance, and took out his phone after he was once again sanitized; in just a moment Grace was softly calling to you, and she prepared to toss a small something to you before letting it fall past the border of the fire escape. Hector went to catch it before he realized it'd be touching his hands, and you managed it in his stead last second, his eyes bright and his smile wide at your success.

It was a small square it looked like, once again bagged to keep it safe, and when you opened it he quickly stopped you before pulling out another pair of gloves from his pocket. He put them on and handled the rest, the square actually a neatly folded and brand new plastic table covering, and he spread it over the dirtied wood and declared it ‘fffffffine enough’ before motioning towards the food.

‘Okay, we should really be doing this in the kitchen, but that's too risky, so just follow my lead,’ he began as everything was spread out, and he glanced down at his sleeves before pursing his lips and rolling them up so he could work, new gloves coming out again so he could handle the food, how many did he have in there? ‘These are store bought, but they've thawed out enough to add the seasoning, and that'll make all the difference once they hit the flame, did you pick up everything I suggested the other day?’

‘Yup, already measured them into that bag,’ you confirmed as you grabbed it, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth before pulling out his sanitizer and waved you over. You were patient with him even though the smell was strong, and when it'd dried over your skin he brought out more gloves from his other pocket, these ones set aside just for you it seemed.

‘Okay, much better; open the bag, keep an eye out for flies, and one by one take the patties and rub a bit of the seasoning into each side, like this.’ He showed you how to do it, his eyes focused as he grabbed the meat with the safety of the gloves, grabbed a couple pinches of the seasoning, and rubbed it into the slightly thawed top and bottom of the burger until it was mixed in without tearing it apart. You followed his lead, grabbing your own but pressing too hard and ending up piercing it with your fingers and thumb, and you frowned at it and decided that Denzel could have that one as he chuckled. ‘No, here, it's in a delicate stage since you can't really roll it back into a ball like this, that's the trouble with store bought, do it like this-’

He came up behind you, his chest a safe distance from your back, but you still felt how warm he was as he took your hand and adjusted your grip as you tried again, the perfect amount of seasoning sprinkled on before he guided your hand to rub it in much gentler than your first attempt. ‘I-I feel like that one movie, with the pottery,’ you joked, and he thought about it a moment before laughing softly in your ear.

‘I won't rub raw meat all over your bare arms, don't worry about that,’ he joked back, that patty done and the next started. ‘You think you've got it?’

‘Yeah, I got it now, thanks,’ you said as you continued without him, and he went back to preparing his own, the two of you working in silence until the wax papered tray was full of the improved burgers. He let you handle the grill, he'd overthink it too much if he tried to use it, he always let Denzel cook when they were out there since he could pretend everything was fine if he didn't actively see the state of the grill despite it being well taken care of. He didn't sit as he avoided watching you, his eyes on everything else as he stripped off the used gloves, sanitized again, and leaned against the end of the table. ‘Y’know, I'm curious, how did you get through cooking school when your fear is this bad?’ you asked him as you flipped the burgers to start to seal in the added flavour, the cheese slices coming out to wait until the lid was opened again.

‘Culinary school, actually, and it wasn't as bad back then, if you'd believe it,’ he replied as he started to place down the plates, a protective napkin placed over each one in case of curious flies. ‘It's always been there, but learning about all the way bacteria can make you sick, even kill you, how you could really hurt someone if you aren't careful, not to mention the state of some kitchens- well, they didn't like me walking around with my big ideas to wear gloves and be more strict with the hairnets, don't even mention the desire to just please clean out the utensil holders, and all that mixed in with my refusal to handle certain things…’

‘It got you fired,’ you finished for him, and he pointed at you, dead on. ‘Wow, I didn't realize the cooking business was that cutthroat.’

‘It's not if you know how to ignore it all, but… I can't, no matter how hard I try, I just can't, so it's been hard to do what I love the past few years.’ He fiddled with the edge of one of the napkins, rolling the soft paper between his fingers until it started to tear, and you wished you had a way to help him find a boss who understood him like you did. But life out there wasn't as easy as him taking your hand and showing you how to season a burger without wrecking it, and the odds of finding a restaurant owner who'd put up with his intense fears disguised as quirks were even worse than finding a needle in a haystack.

You opened the lid and the smell of criminally delicious burgers hit you right in the face, your mouth instantly watering as you reached for the first cheese slice only to be stopped by a new pair of gloves since you’d been touching the grill and spatula; you just gave him a thankful and understanding smile before pulling them on, and you laid the cheese overtop to be melted as Denzel finally caught on and yelled from the apartment window for you two to save him some for the love of God, he was not about to miss out on Hector's famous burgers after so long.

The two of you grew even closer after that day, the grill party very successful as several residents you didn't even know came out of the woodwork at the smells of the burgers. You were glad you'd made so many as everyone ate them up along with the hot dogs and sausages that eventually also got tossed onto the grill as the day went on, and you ended up adding a few new names to your mental registry of the neighbours you'd had yet to meet.

At one point you'd actually needed to run back upstairs to grab some more plates and forks, and you didn't realize Hector had been sent up - aka ran up before Denzel could - to get the other chilled pie he'd made at your request, the two of you bumping into each other in the hallway again when you'd left your apartments at the same time. The pie was saved as you slid your hands underneath his, the stack of plates providing extra support, and when he'd felt your thumbs brush against his bare hands without him pulling away it'd felt way more intimate than if you'd gone full romcom and accidentally kissed somehow or something.

He'd still sanitized again when you reached the yard, but he'd done so with a blush, you couldn't help but notice.

It was going on the next weekend when you'd woken up, got some breakfast, and found a note slid under your door as you'd made your way to the couch. You set down the bowl on the coffee table and picked it up, the writing neat but also a little stiff as the folded paper presented your name to you and confirmed that this was meant for your eyes only.

You brought it over to the couch and opened it up as you ate, and you nearly choked when you saw that it was actually an invitation to dinner by Hector, he liked spending time with you so much that he wanted some time with just the two of you. Your face grew hot as you thought about your growing friendship, and you knew that you were catching feelings for him despite Denzel's best efforts, so you quickly finished off your breakfast, made yourself look Hallway Presentable, and headed over to his door.

You knocked until Denzel opened up, all hunched over and messy from his sleep, and you bit your lip to contain your smile a little when he started to assume that you were finally here for him. ‘Can you tell Hector yes for me?’ you asked him nervously, and he frowned in confusion before looking down to the note in your hand.

‘Ohhhh yeah, I gotcha, I'll tell him,’ he promised with a wink, and you thanked him before heading back to your apartment to get ready for your short shift at work.

Your mind was on him all day, and whether you should dress up nice in case it ended up being a fancy dinner, or if you should just dress like yourself, and by the time you got home you'd decided - multiple times, while mentally going back and forth repeatedly - on a business casual look, so a nice button down and jeans, to start. You raced home once you got off the subway, just barely giving Grace a hello as she also headed inside, and you didn't stop until you reached your apartment and started going over what you could wear.

You ended up with a lineup of clothes, and one by one you picked them off until you were left with what had to be the perfect outfit, something not too fancy, just in case, but nothing too casual either, so he knew you were serious about this. You had a quick shower to get rid of the stress from work and got dressed, the note on your counter as you brushed your teeth and read it again to go over all the details.

There were none, it just said he wanted to invite you to dinner tonight, and when there was nothing left to do you let out the breath you'd been holding all day and approached his door once more.

Denzel opened it again, although this time he was ready for you, Hector nowhere in sight behind him as you tried to peer past into the living room. ‘Oh, he'll be out in a sec, Hector!’ he shouted back over his shoulder, and as he did the door to your right opened and revealed Grace. ‘My, what a coincidence, hey Grace would you wanna grab Phat Dong and check out that place over on 49th?’ he asked her almost like he'd practiced this, and she seemed just as practiced as she for once didn't argue against it and led the way.

‘Have fun tonight,’ she told you as they reached by the elevator, and you had just enough time to feel like you'd been scammed when Hector appeared with a jump.

‘Oh, I thought I heard your voice,’ he said with a smile, but it faltered slightly when he noticed that he was now alone. ‘Where did…?’

Ah, so you had been scammed.

‘He just walked out with Grace,’ you answered honestly, now feeling a little overdressed considering he hadn't been the one to write the letter after all, and honestly you should've seen it coming, the paper had been on the floor and you had thought that the writing had looked a little stiff. ‘But, since they just left, why don't we hang out, just the two of us?’

A fake date to give you the courage to ask for a real one because they'd known you never would, clever girl- guy, the both of them.

‘I'd like that, have you eaten anything yet?’ he asked as he invited you in, and you shook your head as you took in his apartment for the first time; the layout was the same as yours, but you could definitely see where his OCD came in, everything sparkling clean despite the haphazard placement of it all, he'd likely let Denzel decorate with his own things and then kept everything tidy.

‘Nope, just got off work,’ you replied, only two steps in before he stopped you and had you take your shoes off. You set them into the placemat so you wouldn't track any dirt over his mopped floors, and you saw that his socks were actually kind of cute as he led you to the kitchen, the pattern matching the tie he was wearing almost exactly.

‘Great, there's been a recipe I've been thinking of revisiting but I didn't want to make it and have Denzel take half, or Grace, or anyone other than you, actually,’ he admitted as he pulled out an old notebook from between the cookbooks on his shelf. ‘I've kinda just been wanting to share it with you, since you've been encouraging me to get back into this outside of job hunting, as a thank you.’

‘I didn't know you were looking again, how's it been going?’ you asked excitedly as you approached, careful to give him space as usual but he surprised you a little by leaning in to show you everything he'd written down.

‘Not too good, but there's a few places nearby that I'm getting a second interview with, so I've been brushing up on my recipes lately as well as learning the menus, crossing my fingers that if I'm good enough they'll listen to what I have to say this time without throwing me out.’ His smile was small as he flipped through the pages, his arm just barely touching yours, but he might not have noticed thanks to his long sleeves.

‘Well, if you can turn a normal frozen burger into something worth selling at a restaurant just with a bit of seasoning, then I know you can nail these interviews,’ you told him confidently, your hand hovering over him before you pulled away, settling for giving him a thumbs up instead. He watched your hand, noticed how close you were, how respectful you were to his boundaries when the others weren't, and he shut his eyes tight before leaning over and closing the space. It was just your arms touching over fabric, but still it made your breath catch to see it, to feel him heat up against you because this was intimate to him, trusting, and you had to wonder if he might've really wanted to ask you after all but didn't know how to say it.

‘This, uh, this one looks delicious,’ you said with a tap to the book to get him to open his eyes again, and when he saw what page he'd landed on he actually let out a small noise of surprise.

‘That's the one I was going to make for you,’ he revealed, and you looked it over again before he was hiding it from you, your quick glance would be your only teaser. ‘You know, I'd really like to cook with you again one of these days, but for tonight, let me test my recipe out on you, I know you'll be honest with me, or, you'll be honest but not as much as Denzel, and more so than Grace, if that makes sense?’

‘It does, don't worry,’ you smiled as he moved away, your side now cold without him there next to you. ‘So shall I get comfy, try not to spoil all your cooking secrets so you can surprise me?’

‘I-I don't think I could do this if you're watching me,’ he mumbled with a blush, his hand adjusting his glasses as he looked away from you, ‘but we have a big collection of movies you can look through, it shouldn’t take up the whole thing but I haven't made this in a while, so…’

‘A movie sounds great, and recommendations?’ You walked over to the cabinet where they were all completely disorganized but you'd guessed that was only because Hector cared more about germs than order, while Denzel didn't care at all. He didn't have any, he was already too focused on preparing the food to answer, and you shot him a fond smile before grabbing your favourite from the batch and popping it into the DVD player.

You did indeed get comfy as he worked behind you out of sight, the smells of everything making your stomach growl until you couldn't concentrate on the TV any longer; you quietly turned until you were facing the kitchen, and again he wore that same calm and completely concentrated expression as he chopped and sliced and seasoned. He was so into it he didn't even notice when he faced your way to grab some paper towels, and it took you a while to realize that he wasn't wearing gloves this time, although he still generously washed his hands after everything outside of handling the raw meat.

You found watching him to be way more interesting than the movie, and not once did he feel your eyes on him as he carefully assembled the dish into a glass pan and placed it into the oven until he washed his hands a final time and found you staring at him over the back of the couch.

‘How long?’ he mumbled as he pushed his hair behind his ear and walked over, that calmness replaced with a blush again.

‘Dunno, lost track of time,’ you didn't lie, and he looked nervous about it before you motioned for him to come over. ‘You really love this, don't you?’ you said softly as he sat next to you, his posture tight again compared to how relaxed he'd been as he cooked.

‘Yeah, ever since I was little I've always enjoyed standing at the counter with my dad, learning old recipes that were handed down through our families, and then, when I got older and could start making stuff on my own, sharing it with them and my friends, I knew that this is what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.’ He stared at the TV as he spoke but he wasn't watching, clearly picturing what he was talking about as he said it, and you wished you could see it too as you watched him.

‘I'm sorry that things turned out the way they did, I wish there was an opening at my job for you,’ you said honestly, and he smiled and shrugged as he relaxed a little more.

‘For years I've just lived with this, adjusted my life around the fear until it lost me a job and nearly lost me my home, but Denzel is a good guy, bit eccentric, and sometimes he knows just how to push my buttons, it's because of him that I still have a roof over my head.’ He relaxed even more, his posture loose again as he spread his legs just a bit and let his back bend, no more sitting up straight with his knees pressed hard together. ‘I know he doesn't look it, especially when we live here, but you know he's got money, right? That's why he's still unemployed like me, because he doesn't have to work so he doesn't want to.’

No, you didn't know it, you couldn't believe it, in all honesty. ‘Why's he live here then? It's not exactly the Ritz,’ you gaped in surprise, and Hector gave a small smirk as he nodded.

‘No idea, but we were neighbours when I got evicted, I mean, Mr. Katz is great, but he couldn't keep me here for free when the money started to run out,’ he told you even though it must've been a hard and embarrassing part of his life, but neither showed on his face as he looked at you.

‘I might’ve misjudged him,’ you figured, and he gave you a nod, ‘so he took you in, and you were neighbours, that means I've got your old place, don't I?’ Another nod, and it wasn't bitter, that wasn't the kind of person he was. ‘You'll have to tell me how you managed the space because I swear I've used up every inch and still need more,’ you griped, and he laughed and moved a little closer to you, just an inch.

‘I guess I'll have to come over again sometime and help,’ he suggested, and something in the air changed as he realized that he'd actually said it out loud; it was different here, this was his shared space where Denzel could come home at any moment - like hell he would after the scam but still - but your place, that was all yours, and no one would bother you if you went over, shut the door, and locked it. He swallowed, face going red until his glasses started to fog, and you chuckled at the sight before facing him more in return so that when he could see again all he would see was you.

‘I guess you should,’ you agreed, and you gave the oven a glance. ‘How long does dinner have left?’ He looked at his watch before telling you, and you took out your phone and set an alarm before standing up. ‘C’mon,’ you encouraged when he didn't move, completely frozen in place, ‘we've still got 45 minutes to kill, so come give me some pointers, okay? I swear it's clean, cross my heart.’

He looked back at the stove before standing as well, and you left your shoes on the mat as you opened the door and waited for him to join you. He slipped on his loafers and followed after, the hallway so quiet without the others around, and you were glad you'd cleaned when you opened the door and invited him in. He didn't take his shoes off at first, giving your floors a good once over before deciding that he trusted you, although he did shiver a little as his socks met the hardwood; you wanted to praise him but didn't know how to do it without sounding condescending, so you kept it to yourself and raised your arms to motion around the room.

‘So… this is it, as you’ve already seen, plus a few new things here and there,’ you said nervously, like he was going to find one spec of dust and deem you too dirty to hang out with even though that was definitely just nerves and that he would never do anything like that, and he hummed to himself as he walked around.

‘I had my TV over here,’ he told you as he compared, his couch pressed into the wall and surrounded by the end tables that now decorated Denzel's apartment next door. ‘The kitchen is still the same, is the… yeah, I did this.’ He waved you over to point at the burn going up the wall, the one that had made you terribly worried about an electrical fire when you'd first seen it. ‘I was making something and the oil splashed when I tried to drop the chicken in from afar, never do that, and the whole wall nearly caught if my screaming hadn't brought Denzel over, that was actually how we'd met.’

‘He helped put it out and didn't make it worse, I hope,’ you joked, and he thought about it a moment to your concern before deciding yes, he had helped in the end. ‘What a way to start a friendship, must've been hard to top that.’ You paused briefly to put away a dish towel when you noticed he was quiet behind you, clearly he didn't like it because it was already dirty from the dishes you'd done yesterday, but when you turned back to him you saw that he was staring at you, not it.

‘I think I might've topped it,’ he said just above a whisper, your throat going dry under his gaze, once again calm and concentrated as he reached for your hand. There was a moment as his fingers brushed over yours before he pulled back again, like his brain was telling him to keep being afraid of everything he couldn't help in life, of raw meat and eggs and bacteria, of human contact because all of it was bad and could hurt him and he should be afraid.

You didn't rush him as he shut his eyes and tried again, and this time he remained as he touched the back of your hand, your palm, explored your fingers until he was linking his own through yours. He let out a shaky breath, his palm sweating against yours but you didn't mind, he was working so hard to show you how he felt, and you wished he was okay with hugs as you held his hand right back.

‘I never knew how exciting it was to just hold someone's hand,’ you admitted with a smile, and when he cracked his eye open at your voice you saw the way he looked over you like he was seeing you for the first time.

‘So… you don't mind this? With me?’ he asked like he believed you would, and you just shook your head and rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. ‘Good, I mean- they told me I should take a chance, but it's been a while since all this got worse, not everyone wants to deal with someone like me.’

‘You mean someone who's funny, and an excellent cook, and is probably the cutest person in this whole building?’ you challenged, another nervous laugh leaving him as he tried to take a step back, his hand bringing you with him.

‘I dunno, you're also pretty cute,’ he mumbled so genuinely that it could only make you laugh.

‘That's why I said “probably”,’ you teased him, the two of you just laughing until he became aware of how hot his hand was against yours. He tried to free you but you didn't let him, instead pulling him towards your couch so you could sit down together, you still had a half hour before the food was ready, after all. ‘They tried to set us up, you know, that's why I showed up today,’ you told him with a bit of adjusting, Hector very still as you moved closer to him when he still tried to keep to his end of the couch. ‘I was so excited at the thought of you asking me out that I didn't even consider the fact that it wasn't you who wrote the letter they left for me.’

‘Oh no, I wrote that,’ he confirmed after seeing it on the table in front of him, your eyes wide and his shutting again when you turned to face him. ‘They encouraged me to write it, basically told me what to say when I couldn't decide, I just didn't know they'd gone and delivered it when I wasn't looking.’ You were stunned, absolutely flabbergasted, his lip worried between his teeth a moment when he felt you pull his hand onto your lap. ‘I'd actually written it after that day in the yard, when we had the barbeque party, that was when I knew I…’

‘Yeah, me too.’

He opened his eyes again and just stared at you, this mutual confession more than you'd ever hoped for when you'd knocked on his door almost two hours ago already. ‘Does… that mean I can ask you out, for real?’ he dared to wonder, and you nodded and leaned in for a kiss before he stopped you. ‘Sorry, it's been so long, you couldn't imagine the things that fester inside the human mouth,’ he winced, which of course made you wince to think about in return, and he bit his lip again before biting the bullet and kissing you on the cheek instead. ‘But I think I might be okay with stuff like that, for now, if that's fine with you?’

You blushed deep before kissing his cheek back, and he almost looked ready to wipe it off and run before he fought the screaming in his head, he was going to cherish every touch he could get with you until he wasn't afraid anymore, and you were so proud of him it only made you hold his hand all the more. ‘It's perfectly fine with me, you just tell me what you want and I'll always be ready to help you through it, okay?’ you assured him comfortingly, his smile growing even wider and making his glasses raise over his cheekbones. ‘Is there anything else you might wanna do before we go back?’

You didn't even say it in a flirting manner and still he stuttered, his free hand coming up to readjust his glasses when they then slid down his nose. ‘Oh, well, I will admit I have been missing one thing about relationships,’ he confessed scandalously, and you leaned in ever patiently as he lowered his voice. ‘How do you feel about… snuggling?’

He was definitely the cutest person in the entire building, bar none.

‘I like it very much,’ you grinned up at him, and he looked relieved as he pulled your hand to his chest and grinned right back. There was a moment between the smiles and the relief before you realized you were now draped over his side, the closest he'd let you get since you'd met other than when he helped you with the burgers, and you didn't want to make it end by calling attention to it; instead you rested your head on his shoulder, a small snuggle just for him, and for once he didn't pull away until your alarm went off and startled the both of you. ‘Guess it's done,’ you figured sleepily, he was more comfortable than he let on, ‘we should probably turn off the oven before it catches fire.’

He looked ready to contest until he stared at the wall like he could already see the flames, and you laughed as he dragged you back to his apartment to save the meal he'd so lovingly made for you.

It was his own version of a lasagna, much more flavourful and full of things other than just meat and noodles like the instant one you'd bought when he'd first come over, and you decided to bring it back to your place again as you sat together on your couch and ate. There was no more hand holding while he ate, too risky, but he was now fine with sharing the middle of the couch with you instead of cramming himself into his side, to your delight.

You watched the movie you'd paid no attention to earlier, and it seemed to be a shared favourite as you talked and laughed over it, the last of your Popsicles coming out for dessert when you were done. You eventually heard Denzel and Grace come back, their voices hushed in the hallway as he peeked into his apartment and found it empty, and it made you chuckle when they asked themselves where Hector had gone. You got up before he could knock on your door next, hushing him and revealing the man in question fast asleep on your couch.

‘I'm gunna steal him for the night, if that's okay with him when he wakes up,’ you whispered, Denzel's eyebrow raising so high it made you want to shove him just a little.

‘Fine with me, been a while since I had any alone time,’ he said in a sultry voice even though you'd clearly made your choice, and he looked to his friend before his voice then fell oddly serious. ‘You gunna take care of him for us?’

‘I'm sure as hell gunna try,’ you promised honestly, and he gave you an approving nod before wishing you a good night and leaving, no more quips, no more jokes. You shut and locked the door again, the credits playing on screen as Hector snored away over the arm of the couch, and you nearly shook him awake before you remembered you probably weren't there yet after just one date. ‘Hey, sleepyhead, you wanna head to bed?’

He came back to his senses and looked around, the room so familiar but still so new until he saw you. ‘Sorry, think I missed the ending,’ he yawned, and he really was the cutest person in the whole building. ‘Should I get going so you can sleep?’

‘I have the day off tomorrow, so I'm all free to snuggle some more, if you want?’ You offered it carefully, with him something like that could be moving too fast, but he just blushed and sat up, his hands straightening his outfit and hair in order to look more presentable to you.

‘If you don't mind me running home to shower and grab my pajamas first, I think that can be arranged,’ he agreed like it was no big deal, and when he all but ran home and banged on the door until Denzel let him back in, you just chuckled fondly and got ready for your own shower, the promise of getting to be close to him again making you realize how lucky you were to have found this place.

Maybe Big City Living wasn't so bad after all, you thought as you looked around your small and way too crowded apartment, his leftover lasagna in your fridge and his hand in yours again the moment you reopened the door for him.

#Ray's Readers #Ray's Requests #david dastmalchian #hector premature #hector premature x reader #I gotta stop attempting to tag these rare characters lol #I FORGOT TO TITLE THIS ONE ALL WEEKEND OTL

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momo-kageyama · 6 days ago

Text

A Rose Among the Shadows

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Anime: shuumatsu no valkyrie

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Jack the Ripper x R.femele.

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Jack the Ripper meets a woman (y/n) with the personality, manner and skills of Yor Forger, who takes care of her adoptive son (b/y) with unconditional love - a boy with the intense, protective and devoted personality of Yuri Briar.

Y/n) opens up with Jack for the first time. A moment where the strong and controlled woman shows her vulnerability, her wounds, her past - and the reason for the unconditional love for her adopted son (b/y).

—————————————————————————

London, in its eternal embrace of fog and concrete, seemed to breathe sadness. The gas poles threw their yellowish light on silent streets, where the echoes of hooves and steps mixed with the smoke.

Jack the Ripper walked like a shadow through the alleys. Did You Hunt? Maybe. Or maybe he just wandered in search of something that even he didn't know how to name.

That's when he saw her for the first time.

She was in a discreet park, sitting on an old stone bench, watching a boy run through the fallen leaves. She had a serene, maternal look, but the eyes... the eyes were hiding something. A contained murderous instinct, tamed by the presence of the child who called her with joy:

- "Mom! Look what I found! A shame! Maybe from a crow!"

The boy (b/y) ran to her, smiling with a pure but firm enthusiasm, the kind of child who did not accept that his mother was underestimated.

Jack, from a distance, couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was beautiful - yes. But more than that: authentic. His gestures with the boy were tender, true. No staging. No lie.

Jack, who saw emotions as colors, noticed something rare: the light that emanated between the two was golden. Real love. Pure love.

He approached.

- "Forgive my audacity... but all this peace seems out of place on this side of the city."

She turned around, firm, without showing fear.

- "Peace is something we plant, even in the middle of the darkness."

Jack smiled. I was bewitched.

—————

The following days brought discreet meetings.

He, a masked gentleman who appeared with curious gifts for the boy (a cane with a secret compartment, a small old map, a book of riddles). She, a woman who wore gloves not for charm, but as a precaution - always alert, always controlling her instincts.

(B/y), in turn, was a miniature fortress: suspicious, jealous of his mother's attention, but fascinated by Jack - although he never admitted it.

- "He's weird. But it's polite. And I brought chocolate... I'll let him come back. For today."

Jack liked the boy. He remembered something that Jack never had. A pure love, without being based on tragedy. A love... that protected instead of hurting.

But peace doesn't last in London.

On a humid and dark night, (b/y) returned from the grocery store with a bag of bread for afternoon tea. Just another simple task. But the world is not kind to innocent people.

Two dirty men followed him. They wanted money. Or cruel fun.

The boy tried to run away, kicked one of them, bit, screamed.

But then, desperate, he shouted the only name that brought security:

- "MOM!!! MOM!!! THEY'RE TRYING TO HURT ME!"

The air seemed to stop.

The sound of the birds fell short. The city held its breath.

From behind an alley, light steps. Like those of a woman going to work.

But your look...

His eyes, until then soft and loving, were now cold steel blades.

Your aura... has changed.

Jack, who followed her from a distance, felt his heart fail for a second.

He, the artist of death, the son of madness, knew this feeling. It was the presence of someone who abandoned the human limit.

She didn't run. She walked to the men.

- "Did you touch him?"

The voice was low. Almost maternal. But it carried an ancient fury, the kind that does not manifest itself with screams - but with blood.

The man tried to pull out a knife.

But everything happened too fast.

She disarmed him with a spin. His arm broke with a snat. The other tried to run, but she hit him with a precise jump in the stomach, throwing him against a cart.

(B/y) fell to his knees, his eyes wide, tears running. But not out of fear. Of relief.

She knelt down, hugged him tightly.

- "You're safe now. Nobody touches you. Never."

Jack watched everything. Fascinated. Static.

She was perfect.

Not only by force, but by reason: she didn't kill for pleasure. Killed for love.

And the boy... had screamed for her. Because I knew she would come. Like a silent storm.

Jack took a step out of the shadow.

She looked. Still with cold eyes. But when he recognized him, his expression softened for a moment.

Jack took off his hat, lowering his head slightly.

- "I saw many deaths. Many screams. But this one was... different."

She looked at him, her son still clinging to his coat.

- "I'm a mother before anything else."

- "And that's why... you're the most dangerous creature I've ever met."

——————

Later, (b/y) drew on the floor with chalk. A woman with firm eyes and a tall, masked man next to her.

Jack watched him in silence. For the first time... I felt something like belonging. And maybe, just maybe...

He was beginning to understand what love was.

—————————————————————————

After that night that marked Jack's memory forever, life began to take a different rhythm for him - as if the fog that covered his soul began to dissipate little by little.

The following days were marked by small meetings, each loaded with a subtle mixture of curiosity, respect and a desire not yet admitted.

Jack began to visit the small flower shop where (y/n) worked - a hiding place of bright colors in the middle of London's gray. There, he saw her take care of her adoptive son with an affection that he never imagined possible.

- " b/n..." he thought, watching the boy, "a child with fire and loyalty that reminds me of what I could have been."

They talked little at first, exchanging short sentences, but always with that touch of thin tension, as if each word was chosen not to reveal too much - not too much.

Jack discovered that she was not just a delicate flower.

She had skills - precise, deadly - that she revealed only at times when protection was necessary.

One afternoon, when a thief tried to steal one of the flowers to sell, (y/n) intervened with silent agility, knocking down the man with a blow so clean that it seemed rehearsed.

Jack, outside, watched, surprised and amazed.

- "You're not just a mother..." he murmured.

- "I'm all I need to protect those I love."

——————

Over time, Jack realized that his heart, hardened by loneliness and pain, began to open to her.

It was in the serenity of her smile, in the strength with which she hugged the boy, in the way her eyes filled with light when she talked about the future.

He didn't know how to say it, he didn't know if he could. But I felt a growing desire to be more than a shadow around her.

On a rainy night, after a rare and sincere conversation under the improvised ceiling of a cafe, Jack lowered the mask from a distance.

- "You taught me that there is something beyond darkness. Something I... feared to feel."

She smiled, with that tenderness that mixed strength and peace.

- "Don't be afraid, Jack. Sometimes, the light is born inside the darkness."

——————

The boy, initially suspicious, also began to accept Jack as part of the family.

There was a remarkable moment: (b/y) held Jack's hand and said:

- "You stay next to my mother. So, I trust you."

Jack felt something hot explode in his chest - a mixture of pride and fear.

Because loving meant losing - and he didn't want to lose what he was finally finding.

Jack knew he couldn't promise anything. Your past was a storm. Your life, a thin thread over the abyss.

But when he looked at (y/n) and (b/y), he felt for the first time that maybe he could try.

That maybe, in that unlikely family, he would find a reason to continue.

And so, between shadows and lights, a silent love was born - delicate, tense, true.

—————————————————————————

The night had fallen gently on London, as if the city was shrunk in its own sins, whispering stories that no one dared to tell out loud.

Jack and (y/n) were sitting on a roof, overlooking the horizon of pale lanterns and chimneys. The wind was cold, but she was motionless. Silent.

He noticed. Something inside her was about to overflow.

- "Do you want me to go?" - he asked, kind, but attentive.

She denied it with a slight shake of her head.

- "Stay."

For a moment, just the sound of the city below. And then she started talking. Not like a warrior, not like a mother, not like a murderer.

But like a wounded soul, tired... and deeply human.

———————

Flashback: The Abandoned Child

- "I was left in a church when I was four years old. In a dirty blanket, without a name, with nothing. I was told that I cried for two days. Then, never again."

Jack looked at her, but didn't interrupt her.

- "They never adopted me. They never wanted me. It was always that 'too weird', 'too quiet', 'too scary' child. I started to understand early on that... I wasn't necessary."

Her voice faltered, but not out of weakness. It was like steel being forged.

- "So I ran away. At eleven years old, I lived on the streets. A man found me - he said I was perfect to disappear, to move without being seen. I said I could be valuable... as a murderer."

Jack heard her in absolute silence. The wind seemed to hold your breath.

- "I killed for the first time at thirteen. I found out I was good at it. Accurate, efficient. It was the first time someone said 'you have talent'. Even if it was for the darkest reason."

She stared at the emptiness, as if she were still in that alley, with her hands stained with blood.

- "So... a rainy night, after a job. I was exhausted, dirty, bloody. I felt disgusted with myself. I was wondering if that would be my life until the end..."

His voice faltered, and his eyes shone with unshed tears.

- "And then I heard a cry. A weak, high-pitched, desperate sound. I went to an alley... and saw him. A baby. Wrapped in rags. Inside a trash can."

Jack leaned over, not breathing. As if that moment was also happening to him.

- "I didn't think. I just... stopped. I stood there looking at him. He had no one. Not even a future. Not even a name. Like me one day. And then... he looked at me."

She smiled. A small smile, hurt, but real.

- "I swear by everything there is... in that second, I felt something I had never felt before. He needed me. And for the first time, someone needed me."

- "I tood him home. I gave milk, I gave heat. I gave my name. I gave everything I never had. And he grew up... calling me mother. Even when I thought I didn't deserve it."

She turned her face to Jack, finally staring at him.

- "I don't know if I'm a good mother, Jack. Sometimes I still feel... dirty. Murderer. That I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. I'm afraid of failing with him. To hurt him unintentionally. Of not protecting him properly."

Silence.

The wind swirled the dry leaves around them.

Jack was quiet for a few seconds, digesting everything.

And then, for the first time, he took off the mask completely.

His face was vulnerable. His eyes... watery.

- "You're the purest thing I've ever seen."

She widened her eyes.

- "You, who were born from abandonment... turned pain into shelter. You, who were raised by violence, offered the world what it denied you: love."

He approached, slowly.

- "(y/n)... you are the mother I would like to have. You are the woman who taught me what it is to love someone without destroying."

And then, with extreme delicacy, Jack held her hand - as if it were made of precious porcelain.

- "You saved him. And he saved me too, even without knowing it."

The city slept below them.

Downstairs, (b/y) slept peacefully, snuggled on the couch with a blanket, oblivious to the conversation on the roof.

But above, two lonely hearts beat for the first time in a similar compass.

Jack, the monster, and (y/n), the murderer who became a mother - united not by perfection, but by complementary scars.

And in the silence of the night, a real love began to bloom. Silent. Deadly true.

—————————————————————————

After that night when (y/n) opened up to Jack, a different lightness began to inhabit the air around the two. It was not something explosive, but subtle, like the sun that begins to touch the earth shyly after a long winter.

Jack kept coming to the flower shop under the pretext of buying flowers - but it was just to see her. To hear the light laughter of the boy (b/y), who now no longer hid next to him, but gave shy pats on his arm.

On one of these afternoons, (y/n) offered Jack a herbal tea that she prepared herself.

- "It's to calm down. I know your life is full of storms."

Jack smiled - that rare smile, without a mask.

- "And you... seem to be the calm."

He liked to observe how she took care of the plants with a patient affection, the same patience with which she took care of her son.

——————

The conversations started to last longer. About the past, about dreams, about fears that they didn't have the courage to say out loud.

Jack told stories in fragments - never everything, but enough for (y/n) to see the man behind the legend.

She, in turn, spoke less, but her words carried a weight that he understood.

- "You're different from everyone I've ever met." Jack said one night, after a comfortable silence.

- "And you... are learning to be human again."

He laughed, hoarse.

- "Thanks to you."

Jack no longer hid what he felt.

On the nights when they were side by side, he looked at (y/n) with silent admiration - not for what she could do, but for what she was.

She, in turn, noticed the change - as he tried to smile more, talk less about pain and more possibilities.

—————————————————————————

On a rainy night, after protecting (b/y) from a nightmare, Jack stood next to her, in the silence of the room lit by a candle.

He held her hand, firm, but hesitant.

- "I don't know what the future holds. But I know I want to try... with you."

She smiled, eyes shining.

- "Me too."

And in that small connection - without too many words, without haste - a silent promise was made.

—————————————————————————

It was a golden late afternoon. Unusual for London, where the sky was covered by clouds and smoke. But on that day, the sun dyed the windows amber, as if the world wanted to honor a rare thing: peace.

In the small house, away from the city, Jack, (y/n) and the boy were having one of those rare normal days.

No blood, no rush, no internal struggles - just life.

—————

The morning of the three

- "Jack! It will burn the bread again!" - shouted (b/y) from the table, laughing.

- "This is experimental culinary art, young man." - Jack replied, trying to understand how a toaster worked.

(Y/n), sitting with a mug of tea, watched the two with that look of someone who never imagined witnessing something like that - and who fears losing at any moment.

But Jack... was learning. Dealing with a pot, cutting fruits for the boy's lunch box, answering a call of " Uncle Jack!" Coming from the room with invented urgency.

The once silent house now had live noises. Laughter. Steps. Voices. And memories being built effortlessly.

——————

The afternoon of construction

(B/y) I wanted to ride a kite.

Jack, despite his dark genius, offered to help - even if he had no idea how.

The two spent hours in the backyard, cutting, gluing, making mistakes and laughing. Jack, with trembling hands for never having done something like that. (b/y), with a patience that only someone with true affection could have.

At one point, the boy took a red crayon and drew something on the side of the kite: three figures holding hands.

- "This is you, mom and... me."

Jack was silent.

It was the first time he saw himself included... as part of a family.

After dinner, the boy was sleepy. (y/n) had already gone up, and Jack offered to put (b/y) to bed.

The boy lay down with an old teddy bear in his arms.

Jack pulled the blanket up to his chin, trying to imitate the way (y/n) did it.

- "Good night, little one." - said Jack, with a softer voice than he expected.

The boy yawned.

- "You're going to stay here, right?"

Jack hesitated.

- "If your mother wants... if you want... yes."