#like i do think boiling down Breeze to like... someone who made the only choices avalible to him isnt correct | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zukka-dyke · 4 years ago

Text

a concept:

when zuko goes back to the fire nation, after ba sing se and before the day of the black sun, mai sneaks into his room every night and they sleep together. not in a sexual way, they’ve both come to the conclusion that neither of them are at all into the opposite gender, but the idea of being together, just the two of them, for the rest of their lives, well that seems better than being in a loveless mariage with someone that they don’t even know.

that’s the thing, about mai and zuko. they love each other, they really do. just not in the way that people want them to love each other.

because of this, this love, this solidarity, mai sneaks into zuko’s room in the palace every night, and she lays with him until they both fall asleep, and she comforts him when the nightmares come.

the nightmares still come, of course they do. mai thinks it’s something about being back in the palace, being in the room that he was in when his life changed forever, every single day. she was there, on the day of the agni kai, she saw what happened, she can understand why zuko still dreams about it.

she dreams about it too.

so they both still have nightmares, zuko almost ever night and mai maybe once or twice a week. it’s still too much; no kid their age should have as much trauma as they do.

but they have their trauma, and they can’t get rid of it, so when zuko wakes from his nightmares, mai wakes too, and they brew a pot of tea and sit together on the balcony, soaking in the night time breeze and refilling their cups until there’s no tea left. then, they’ll go back to bed, and mai will lay with zuko until he falls asleep, and then she’ll go back to her own room, right next to ty lee’s, and they’ll keep up the charade for another day after that.

the night before the day of the black sun, zuko is more restless than usual. mai can tell; he’s usually still in sleep, but that night he tosses and turns until mai herself gets fed up with his constant motion and pulls his restless limbs towards her body, purposefully cuddling someone of her own acord for what may be the first time in her sixteen years of life.

she doesn’t see zuko at all, the day of the eclipse, and when she sneaks into his room that night, all that’s left for her is a letter, no prince in sight.

and mai- mai is mad. she’s mad because zuko didn’t tell her, and they promised each other that they wouldn’t keep secrets, and if he’d just told her, then she would’ve gone with him, and then they could still be together.

not be together be together. mai might not have loved zuko like that, but he was her best friend, and she did love him, and her heart aches with the idea of him being gone.

people think that ty lee is her best friend, mai herself tells them that ty lee is her best friend, and she tells them that zuko is her boyfriend because that’s what’s expected of her.

but that’s not who she is, not really.

so she reads zuko’s letter, and then she reads it again, and then she runs down the hallways with it grasped tightly in her hands, and she fligs open the door to ty lee’s room and she sees her friend there, drinking a cup of some herbal tea, and she holds her cup just like zuko does, with her pinky fingers balenced on the bottom, and mai sees her and she breaks. she manages to fling the door shut behind herself, and gives ty lee enough time to shoot her a concerned look before she collapses to the floor and sobs, actually, really sobs.

she hasn’t sobbed like this since zuko was banished.

ty lee is concerned, of course she is, and she’s on the floor with mai in a second, prying the letter out of her trembling hands. she reads it, and then she’s crying too, albeit softer and quieter than mai.

with shaking hands, ty lee pries mai up off the ground and onto her bed, and they sit there together, crying, for who knows how long.

mai gets over it, she thinks. she’s pretty sure that the avatar will win the war, when it comes time, not that she’d ever say that, so she thinks that zuko will survive, even if she won’t. she hates the idea of her living while he dies, and really, living without zuko isn’t really living anyways.

but she makes due. without zuko to share a bed with now, she shares with ty lee, the two of them staying up late with their pot of sweet, herbal tea, and their pinkies resting on the bottoms of their cups.

mai is the little spoon.

(they don’t talk about it)

then she gets the letter from her uncle. the hawk arrives at the window of ty lee’s room, early in the morning, and together they run until they find azula, mediatiting alone in one of the pavilions. when they get to the boiling rock, mai tells the other two to stay on the airship, and she goes into the prison and she finds her uncle, who takes her to zuko.

mai tries to fight. she tries to play the part of the girl that she’s supposed to be, hreatbroken by the betrayal of her love. but really, the only tears that she’s crying are that of relief, because zuko is alive, he’s alive, and that’s enough for mai. to know that he’s doing what he set out to do, that’s enough for her.

and later that day, when she sees him fighting with the water tribe boy up on the gondola, sees that sparkle in his eyes, that all too familiar look, she knows that he made the right choice.

now she has to make the right choice too.

so she stops the guards. she knows that azula will try to kill her, but she means it when she says “I love him more than I fear you,” and that’s enough for her. she’s willing to die if zuko gets to live.

but then ty lee saves her. and they both go to prison, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, because they’re together, and zuko is safe, and mai can finally rest easy knowing that zuko is safe, and so is ty lee, and everything will be okay.

they break out of prison within the week.

mai doesn’t really know where they should go from there. she’s been around the world, but she really doesn’t know where she and ty lee, the daughter of a fire nation noble and an ex circus performer, will be welcome. after a week of camping around the fire nation, they reach the earth kingdom boarder, and mai can see the coastline, maybe a day’s walk from where they are. they still have some money, just enough for two ferry tickets to kyoshi island.

the girls don’t welcome them at first. they take one look at them, their pale skin, their fire nation eyes, and they arrange themselves into fighting stances, but mai bows so low that her nose brushes the ground and ty lee does the same beside her and for the first time in years she takes the knives out from under her sleeves and lays them on the ground in front of her.

she’s unarmed, unprotected, and honestly afraid for her life, but ty lee’s there next to her, and there’s a little voice inher ear that sounds suspiciously like zuko saying “breathe mai, just breathe” and so she does.

the warriors take them in, promise them a meal in exchange for their story. after that, they’ll decide if they get to stay longer.

and for a minute, mai is tempted to lie, to say that they’re just travelers, just refugees hiding from a war that they don’t want any part in.

but zuko always told her to be honest.

so she is.

she tells the warriors everything, from meeting azula and ty lee at school to being gay. one of the girls asks her if she and ty lee are a couple, and they both go red in the face but mai finds that she really isn’t against that idea. she tells them about ba sing se, and how sorry they are for stealing the uniforms, and she talks about zuko coming home, and the nightmares, and then him leaving all over again.

she tells them about the letter.

she tells them about boiling rock, and saving zuko, and ty lee saving her, and then she talks about prison, and camping, and the smallest, dimmest hope that they’d be welcome here.

and they are.

after hearing her story, and giving them dinner, the warriors welcome her and ty lee with open arms and warm hearts, and mai has the most amazing month of her life training with the warriors and spending her every waking moment with ty lee, and time passes so quickly that before she knows it it’s the night before the comet and she’s taking ty lee on a walk along the beach, and then they’re kissing under the stars.

the comet is horrifying, and the sky is red, and mai hates herself for not being with zuko, but she and ty lee are safe on kyoshi island, and they stand with the rest of the warriors on the beach and watch silently as the comet comes and goes, and mai and ty lee are alowed to have the war paint and armour on, for real, for the first time.

word reaches the island the next day that ozai has fallen, that zuko and azula went up against each other in an agni kai, that zuko is set to be the next firelord, and mai knows that they have to go back to caldera.

some of the warriors come with them, and mai’s hands shake for the entirety of the ferry ride, but then she’s there, and she sees the same water tribe boy from the prison, and a girl who looks just like him, and another girl in green, and a kyoshi warrior who the girls tell her is named suki, and a bald kid who can only be the avatar, but she doesn’t pay attention to any of them, just follows the water tibe girl’s directions and grasps ty lee’s hand tight in her’s as they fly down the hall, towards the infirmery.

towards zuko.

they get there, and zuko is standing on shaky legs, trying to get his arm through the sleeve of his robe without pulling too much as the skin around his injury, and ty lee stands in the doorway, a respectable distance away, while mai crosses the room and says, just a hint of her usual snark in her voice,

“need any help there?”

and zuko turns, and he smiles, a real, full smile, a grin even, and it’s something that mai hasn’t seen on his face since they were children, since before his mother died, and mai can’t help but let a smile sneak onto her face as well. she guides his arms through the sleeves, and notices that he smells like ink and the sea.

“so the water tribe boy then,” she murmurs, and zuko goes red as a tomato but doesn’t deny it.

“so ty lee then,” he counters, and ty lee goes red where she’s still standing in the doorway, and so does mai, but neither of them deny it either.

it’s over, mai thinks to herself that night, laying in an unfamiliar palace guest room with ty lee curved around her. it’s all over.

zuko will be firelord, and ozai will be in prison, and azula will finally get the help that she needs. mai and ty lee will go back to kyoshi island, and they’ll train with the girls, and open a flower shop, and they’ll come back to visit zuko sometimes, in the palace, with his friends.

mai will learn that the earth kingdom girl’s name is toph, and the boy from the prison, the one that zuko smells like, with the boomerang, his name is sokka, and his sister is katara, and the avatar is aang.

she’ll become especially close with suki and sokka, suki because ty lee will become a warrior, and even though mai is just an honerary member she still holds the girls near and dear to her heart. sokka because he’s one of the only other people in the world who knows what it’s like to love zuko the way that mai does, and mai will never, ever take that forgranted.

610 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible.

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees.

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were.

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen.

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it.

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

Next part

226 notes · View notes

xhisokas-harleyx · 3 years ago

Note

Your Hisoka headcanons were so good😭 and i completely agree with all of them- I wanted request something, u can ignore if u want. 🏃

I am just thinking of a scenario where Hisoka got hurt, by someone who 'cheated' in the fight maybe, and his first instinct was to go to his 'friend's place. And Reader helps him without hesitation, they're even worried and stuff. And he is just like "are they just so naive or dumb? Kind? What do they get from this? And tf is this feeling in my chest? A poison maybe-" Maybe hcs? Or an oneshot? Whatever you like to do. Have a good day or night!:)💛 damn i wrote too much lol sorry

This warms my heart. Thank you SO MUCH for your support!!! And no, you did not write too much! I love having my ego stroked ;) 😂 seriously tho I love hearing from you guys!

I love this prompt. I hope that I was able to bring this to life for you, please feel free to request more!

To be honest, I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I haven’t written in a long time and feel really rusty. I may rewrite it at some point, because I thought of a different way this could also go! At any rate, I hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2880 (yeh, it’s a long one :o)

A little song inspiration I had:

As The World Caves In: Matt Maltese

Hisoka x Reader One-Shot: The Man Beneath the Monster

...

Well... this wasn't supposed to happen.

Currently, the jester of everyone's nightmares lay on the ground, golden eyes staring up at the dull night sky while shrapnel and debris etched patterns into his back, remnants of the attack he'd just barely survived. Hisoka didn't normally have much of a problem mowing through his opponents- but then again, they usually didn't possess the ability to play with their enemy's mind. It was insanely unfair, the way he'd been attacked, and while it had been an interesting battle to say the least, Hisoka had barely pulled through.

Admittedly, he was invigorated by the feeling of almost being beaten- save for the searing pain that inched its way through every nerve in his body. Hisoka wasn't usually so affected by pain in general- in fact, more often than not, it gave him a certain indescribable gratification. He tended to brush off the feeling of most wounds he obtained during battle, distracting himself with shuffling his cards or fantasizing about the next battle he'd be facing. Only this time, if he didn't get help, he wasn’t sure there would BE another battle.

Hisoka strained himself to sit up, and looked down at his body, analyzing just how much damage he'd sustained. A deep gash opened up his chest, revealing glimpses of the muscular content underneath, and it was oozing a lot of blood. His arms and legs were burned, and some of the skin was a little charred, which smelled just lovely against the night breeze.

This is going to be difficult to cover with Texture Surprise... he thought, forcing himself a bit angrily to his feet, when he heard the cracking of the joints in his left ankle, indications of a break. He needed medical attention, badly. His gash wasn't going to heal itself, and he would bleed to death within hours if it didn’t get bandaged.

But where could he go? Hospitals wouldn't dare take him- even though he was a hunter, most people wouldn't be caught within miles of him, let alone would provide him any remedy. In fact, most people thought the world would be better off if he were dead anyway.

Maybe they were right.

He chuckled a little at the thought, but as he tried to brush those creeping inner fears off, he soon realized that his normal detached approach wasn't going to work this time. Already, his legs were getting weaker, and his vision was getting a little darker by the second. In that moment of weakness, when he felt the most vulnerable, the magician was puzzled by the singular thought that came to his mind.

Y/N.

She was a girl he’d encountered more than a few times in his travels; not by accident, but through carefully orchestrated meetings he initiated himself. She was strong in his eyes, which was not a compliment that he offered freely, especially to someone who didn’t regularly seek out altercations to smash their enemies. She was strong in a different way- not because of her nen or battle tactics- but because of her resolve. He found it intriguing that she didn’t run at the sight of him (even when he popped up behind her in the park), and he liked that she wasn't afraid to tell him exactly where he could shove his cards, if warranted. Y/N was appealing to him in an indescribable way that made him continue to think up excuses to meet her ‘randomly’- but he could never put his finger on what it was that made her unique. However, through brief conversations and what he considered to be highlights of his travels, he’d gotten to know her only a little, but he hardly had enough contact with her to call her a ‘friend’.

It wasn't like she had any special sort of healing nen. She probably couldn't help him anyway. But if he did bleed out, and his last thought had to be of something...l it might as well be of her.

The pink-haired clown looked to the city up ahead in the distance- he was close to her house already. It didn't take him long to get there; Y/N lived on the outskirts of town in a small place away from most other homes.

It was a place he knew well, although he'd never been inside. He'd spent more than a few long nights watching the residence from the rooftop of a distant neighboring home as he denied his human emotions. He often watched her pack groceries, or try to figure out why her porch light wasn't working (which he certainly had nothing to do with), or watch TV on the couch all alone.

Hisoka quite liked those stupid romantic comedies that played late at night on the local channel. His only opportunity to watch them was through her window- and in his mind, he was sure that she left the subtitles on because she can somehow sense his presence. She usually fell asleep watching those, and missed the part where the hero gets the girl. He always watched that part with particular interest, but he can't figure out what makes the protagonists so special to each other. If there was a feeling that caused them to sacrifice so much for one another… he sure didn’t know what it could be.

But he's not a hero, so why would he know what that feels like?

As Hisoka reached her door and lifted his hand to the doorknob, not bothering to knock, a pang of what could only be anxiety ripped through him. It was well past 2 AM, and he knew she had things to do early in the morning. Their previous encounters had been abnormal, to say the least, complete with him teasing her and being a douchebag. He's been nothing but an annoyance to Y/N, so why would she help him?

As soon as he was about to pull his hand away, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking y/n in its place. Hisoka was bent over in pain, holding his chest, but as she startled him a little, he straightened up and put on his mask, acting complacent and confident. He wanted to say something smart and witty like he always does- that always helped to bat the pain away. But his lips wouldn't move- his tongue wouldn't function as he stared at her, unable to reach out in a way that normal humans seem to find so easy.

He felt frozen in that moment. He was normally so deliberately irreverent, but seeing the look on her face made his blood run cold.

Don’t let her see this weakness. It was a plea to himself.

But Hisoka had no choice. He was broken, and he needed her to fix him. He wasn’t used to depending on someone else to save his life, but now his life rested in the hands of someone who most likely despised him.

"...Hisoka." Y/N breathed, her eyes widening as she placed a hand over her open mouth. Only seconds passed before her delicate hands were pulling him inside the door without hesitation. She didn't bother to ask what happened, what kind of trouble he'd gotten into, or whether she would also be in danger. Instead, she sat him down on the couch, laying a pillow under his head for comfort, which he annoyingly refused to use until he absolutely couldn’t hold his head up any longer.

Hisoka was a bit dazed from the loss of blood, and the crimson river was flowing all over y/n's lightly colored couch. He was puzzled by the swiftness of her reaction, and he watched tepidly as she shuffled frantically through the drawers in the bathroom for something to heal him. Though he was on the brink of death, his default deflection of emotions still shone through, a reflex that he didn’t even mean to activate.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” He said with an impudent grin, watching as she began to work on his wounds. “It’s just a scratch. But I can see how badly you want to touch me…” Why was he like this? Here she was, giving up everything to help him (a criminal and the scum of the Earth),yet he can’t so much as even show her an iota of gratitude. He knows, but will never admit that it comes from his inner vulnerability; that fear of getting hurt by these things called emotions. She could just as easily let him bleed to death in front of her; he knows she has the capability to be stone cold. But she won’t… why?

Why?

Y/N could have easily let Hisoka’s false complacency hurt her. But she knows that what he cannot express in his words, his heart cannot truly hide. It was the way he was built, she told herself, and she pushed on through his antics because she wanted to see him safe again. Through the laceration in his tough exterior, she could not only see the flesh beneath, but a glimpse of the man he tried to hide using the monster that he assumed everyone saw.

But she was different.

The jester was confused by her silence. Normally, she would have retorted at his smugness, but right now, she didn’t even seem concerned with it as she began to fumble with cleaning his wounds. The alcohol seared his flesh just as the emotions boiling within him burned his heart. Why would she ever care to help him when he’s been nothing but rude and degrading to her? Could it be that she really can see through the detached front and overbearing persona? Impossible, he’s spent years building that reputation!

Suddenly, he became enthralled with the way Y/N’s eyes focused on threading the needle to sew up his gash. The way that those fingertips danced over his pale skin made him jolt unexpectedly at her touch, exhibiting a softness that Hisoka has never known before. In fact, he can’t even fathom someone wanting to touch him without the intention to hurt him in some way.

The details slowly became a blur in his depressed mental state- but he still analyzed every motion Y/N made.

Oddly, the promised sting of death had never scared Hisoka before; he did as he pleased, without care for his own life nor anyone else’s. But as his vision faded, and he watched her through the gaze of someone nearing death, he realized that he did not want to leave this world yet. He wanted to live- and maybe he wanted to discover and experience what he’d been missing in those movies he’d watched through her window.

With that, Hisoka’s heart began to beat faster.

Blood loss. That’s what it is… Hisoka thought; but he wasn’t stupid; only unwilling to admit that he was beginning to exhibit the same qualities he saw in the protagonists of those hopeless romantic flicks. He was unable to accept that the tightening in his chest was not just because of her stitches pulling his lacerated skin together.

“Are they dead? Did you kill them?” Her voice brought him out of the trance-like state he was in, and his golden eyes focused on her face. Her hands were covered in his blood (which in itself made him feel delightfully feverish), but his gash had been mended, the bleeding stopped for now. Once again, he didn’t say anything. It was unusual for the smug magician to keep his mouth shut.

“Because if you didn’t kill them, I’m going to.” A protective tone dripped into her voice, bewildering Hisoka again. That quality in her voice was both threatening and comforting, and the duality sent a chill up his spine. It inspired him to use his voice, though it had lost some of its signature modulation.

“You have that little faith in me…” A cough escaped his lips before he could smile as if nothing was bothering him at all. “Of course I killed them, my dear.” Somehow, calling her ‘dear’ no longer felt right; that was typically a placeholder, a default name to use for someone he had no connection with, and she seemed to be worthy of more than that now.

As Y/N suddenly dipped to her knees, Hisoka refrained from any lewd thoughts that he normally might have had in such a situation. That sensation in his chest was too distracting to allow this memory to be defiled with something he often indulged in fantasies of. She began to slide the high-heeled shoe off of his swollen foot to wrap it. She began to struggle with ripping the fabric she’d gathered to act as a cast for the bone.

Surely, she knows who I am. Why would she bother to help someone like me? What is she gaining? She knows that with the flip of a card, I could end her life. She’s not even protecting herself in any way. She’s leaving her guard down right in front of me.

Perhaps it was his dark desire to set fear into everyone he came across, or his distorted need to drive away anyone who might care for him, but his body suddenly acted on its own. By instinct, almost as if it were a test of her intention, a card spawned between his middle and index finger, which was right against her neck. With just a slight movement of his knuckles, he could spill her blood. His golden eyes analyzed the way she froze for a moment, and he believed that to be the end of this fragile trust between them. That was until she lifted the fabric she was holding, sliding it along the edge of the card, and cutting it to the perfect length.

“Thanks.” She spoke, beginning to wrap and set the ankle in place.

At that small motion, Hisoka’s discretionary eyes widened, and his lips fell open in surprise. Rather than interpreting his advance as an attack, she’d innocently taken it as an offer of his help. Was this a joke? Was she stupid enough to trust him, or was she bold enough to outsmart his games? Was Y/N this confident that he wouldn’t just kill her? This naive girl at his feet seemed to be the only person in this convoluted world who didn’t see him as a disgusting, heartless monster… and that warmed his icy heart.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. I know you’re graceful, but high heels are always a recipe for a broken ankle.” She offset the pain of wrapping those bones by talking to him all through the procedure, and it worked wonders. He scoffed, but by that time, Hisoka’s snide comments and emotion-killing thoughts had been expended. Somehow, she’d broken through the barrier that he’d spent so long building around himself.

Unable to ignore his whims anymore, Hisoka reached out to touch Y/N’s hair, the soft delicate strands pleasing his senses. It’s the only movement he can make now, his body weakened from the loss of blood. His gilded eyes were barely open, but they looked directly into hers with an unfamiliar realization. His hand travelled weakly down her face, caressing her cheek with the most delicate touch he could muster, and held her head in his large hand as she froze there. He wondered for a moment if she was afraid, or if something deeper that he cannot see calms her.

A small, genuine smile is all he could muster for her before his hand dropped to the side of the couch, the same couch he watched her curl up on most nights. For once, it’s not a smirk, and it’s not a smug smile- but something she has never seen before- a true smile with good intention behind it. His eyes closed, with uncertainty that they would open in the morning.

After she’d finished her work, she stood up, and looked down at him. The only remaining light in the room was the silent flicker of the television set in the background, which illuminated both of their faces.

“I need you to be alright, Hisoka,” She cooed, unable to know if he could still hear her. He didn’t know if she even realized how much he wanted to kill her right now, because the way her kindness was attacking his heart while his chest was already sliced open was something he should not excuse.

As Y/N’s final healing gesture, she bent over his body gracefully. He was taken off guard when he felt the feathery soft sensation of her lips on his forehead, the kiss of an angel on his clammy skin. As she went to pull away, however, she was startled by the lunge of Hisoka’s hand initiating a death grip on her wrist. He used the last bit of his strength to pull her lips into his, causing her to lose balance and be forced to brace on either side of the couch cushion below him. His lips were cold, but Y/N graciously returned the sensation, and boldly moved to embrace both sides of his face with her mending hands. Before she pulled away, and he passed out, she felt that same smile against her lips.

And in that moment, before he fades away, Hisoka realizes what he’s been missing.

Y/N.

-----------------

Hmm... part two? I KNOW, it’s super freakin’ sappy. I could have taken a lighthearted approach to this (and maybe I will later), but I wanted to kind of challenge myself to write a more depth-driven version of Hisoka. Maybe I bit off a little more than I can chew :0.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and once again thanks to anon for the request! Hope you all enjoyed!

Mac

#hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #x reader #reader insert #hxh #hunterxhunter #feeling sappy #love #lovelorn #ooc? probably #hxh 2011 #hisoka

116 notes · View notes

svtkillua · 4 years ago

Text

milk and tea > 5

rating: [pg-13 / angst] genre: soulmate au pairing: todoroki shouto x reader warnings: cursing, heartbreak, angst! word count: 6k

listen while you read here! join the discord!

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - chap 5 - 6 [final]

“This is too much for one person to handle.” Your voice sounded heavy, eyes glued out the window as a few buildings zoomed past your line of sight, the seatbelt across your chest digging uncomfortably into the crook of your neck. Your hand felt like it was burning, the line of gold seeming different now, making your heart thud and anxiety sour through your veins, your blood boiling with anger and confusion. None of it made sense and the longer you digested the information the more it seemed to make your nausea grow, stomach churning when your eyes stayed glued to your palm as you spoke softly into the confining space of Awase’s car. “I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“I know.” Awase’s voice was deep, the kind of sound you could fall asleep too easily at night, laced with the same worry and confusion that was brewing violently in your heart. His hands were clutching the steering wheel when you glanced at him, the white hue from his knuckles giving away his emotions more than the absent look on his face was, his lips parted slightly as he sighed. “You’re positive mine’s the same as hers? As theirs?”

Your head bobbed before you muttered a quiet yes, remembering the way his face had twisted when you explained everything to him, there in that café patio an hour ago, coffees long forgotten between you. You hadn’t stopped to think if you should figure things out first, didn’t question the words as they tumbled past your lips, speaking truths that were hard for either of you to understand just yet. Awase had been rightfully baffled, shocked and unsure of your confidence in their matches all marking, after all it had never been heard of.

Part of you suspected he didn’t want to get his hopes up, that he didn’t even want to allow a daydream where maybe he did have a soulmate. If he was anything like you, he knew how disappointing things were when you came down from the high inside your head, when reality smacked you back into place with a reminder of how alone you were.

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have told you.” Your voice lifted slightly at the end, like you were unsure yourself if your actions had been right, Awase’s eyes landing on you for a second at a stop sign, his lips pulling into a faint smile as he loosened his grip on the wheel enough to return his knuckles to their usual hue.

“I’m glad you told me, it’s just a lot to take in.” He swallowed harshly, tongue poking out to wet his flushed lips as his head shook slightly from side to side. You shifted in your seat, eyes flickering once to his palm as his hand left the steering wheel to instead scratch at the back of his neck, something you figured was an anxious habit. “I thought I didn’t have a soulmate and now I apparently match two other people’s marks. I’m just confused as to what’s happening, and thrown off, I guess. I’ve never heard of this happening.”

“Neither have I.” Your gaze shifted back out the window as his GPS quietly rattled off which street he needed to go down, the ticking of his blinker sounding loud as you both fell into silence. You weren’t sure what to say to calm the screaming voices in your head, weren’t sure how to make yourself less confused when you had no idea where to start looking for answers. Awase hadn’t been sure either, which had led the both of you into his car, where you typed in Todoroki and Momo’s address into his phone.

You kept picturing the look on Todoroki’s face when he’d interrupted the two of you barely an hour and a half ago, kept swallowing harshly when you remembered the way his voice shook with strain. He didn’t look angry at you for ignoring him, but hurt, like you’d ripped away the last piece of himself he felt like he had ahold of, like you’d left him all alone in the ocean with no life raft to help him stay afloat. You’d been trying to save yourself from the pain in your chest, but in the process had left Todoroki stranded all alone, where nothing could help him from crumbling apart.

You knew the pressure he was under, knew from that night you had together that he’d never been quite this vulnerable before. He was lost and you were supposed to be his constant, his guide through things even when seeing each other was becoming painful. He’d wanted you to be there, wanted you to know he loved you even if he couldn’t do it publically, and you’d left him. In a way you were selfish, because your form of comfort was ignoring him, when his only form of comfort had been you.

He didn’t have anyone to turn to with his problems, didn’t have a Midoriya to listen when he cried about the girl he loved, who most definitely wasn’t his soulmate. He didn’t have a family that would support him and love him regardless of his choices, didn’t have a group to back him up when he needed it. All he had had was you, and you’d all but abandoned him for a week, only for him to finally see you again when you were with another guy.

You partially knew what it could have looked like to him, like you’d been avoiding him because you were trying to move on with someone else, like you’d given up on the love you felt because it could never blossom. You wondered if he thought that of you, if he imagined you seeking out other men as much as you pictured him falling into Momo’s arms when you felt at your lowest.

“We’re here.”

Your head lifted from it’s direction towards your lap, eyes dancing once from Awase to the building waiting just through his window, the huge cherry blossom tree outside too brightly colored for the way your mind was swimming. Every emotion imaginable felt like it was bubbling just beneath the surface, your hands shaking as Awase unlocked the doors and climbed out without an ounce of hesitation. You were envious of how outwardly calm he looked, even if he was probably as anxious as you were.

The short walk across the street and up the front stairs felt like a thousand miles for the way your knees were trying to buckle, your fingers scrunching into your palms as Awase knocked on the painted red, wooden surface. His hands shoved into his jeans then, you noted, his blue flannel shirt blowing out behind his back as a breeze carried the smell of his cologne past your nose, his eyes flickering once over to yours as a quiet ‘just a moment’ came from inside.

Your heart leapt to your throat when the door opened, Momo standing there with her hair pulled into a low ponytail, an apron half tied around her hips and a dot of flour dusted onto her cheek. Her eyes didn’t even glance to you when Awase sucked in a sharp breath of air, like for a moment she didn’t realize he wasn’t alone, her hands wiping delicately onto the front of her apron as a breeze blew a strand of her hair across the front of her neck. Awase fidgeted on the spot, clearing his throat and turning his head slightly to look at you, like he was asking you what to say.

As if you had any clue yourself.

“Momo.” Her head turned towards you quickly but her eyes dragged behind, lingering on Awase’s face until he glanced down at his shoes, hands shuffling, still in the confines of his pockets. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip when your gaze locked with hers, hating the way insecurities started to fester in the back of your mind, wash of guilt nearly knocking you over when you remembered the way Todoroki’s lips had felt on your lips. That guilt only grew when you felt the ring he’d left with you twisting on your twiddling finger, throat clearing once even though your volume didn’t grow. “Can we come inside, please?”

It took her a moment to nod, her eyes blinking a few times as she pulled the door further open and stepped back enough to let you both past. You vaguely heard her introduce herself to Awase as you slipped your shoes off, catching the way he smiled when she stumbled over a stray pair of slippers left by the door. His name rolled off his tongue easily as she shook her head at her own clumsiness, a blush on her cheeks just barely visible from the dim light in the hall.

The place looked the same as when you’d been in it, but also somehow different, now holding furniture and pictures and life. It was a home instead of a house now, the place Todoroki and Momo’s love was supposed to grow into its destiny, even if to yourself it felt like a prison, a manifestation of the things you lacked. The walls were painted a pale grey, the furniture the same navy blue as the lines on their palms, a set of stairs directly down the hall lined with photos from trips they’d taken, scattered with nicnacs and memories you didn’t care to know the stories of.

You loathed how it made you want to vomit, the jealousy creeping through your bones, rattling any of the confidence you had left.

“Where’s Todoroki?”

“He’s upstairs, we were about to make dinner.” Momo stepped past you after a moment, leading the pair of you towards the open concept kitchen, her voice unwavering but her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she stepped towards a ball of dough she’d left on the counter. “Why?”

“We need to talk to the both of you.” Awase’s voice rang beside your ear as his palm landed on your lower back, as if he could tell how anxious being there was making you, let alone how confused and frustrated you still felt. Everything felt too big, too surreal to actually be happening, Awase’s free hand still shoved in his pocket like a bomb he was scared to set off.

“About what?” Momo’s nose scrunched slightly as she glanced at the pair of you from where she was lazily forming small dumplings on the counter, tossing them one by one into a pot of boiling water. She licked her lips once as she let her eyes flicker towards your neck, reminding you of the necklace hanging there, the one Todoroki had given you, the one that made her suspicious enough to confront you before.

You pretended not to notice the way it made her nostrils flare as she sucked in a delicate breathe.

“It’s complicated.” You sighed, switching your weight from foot to foot, hand raising to rub at your shoulder aimlessly when you heard the stairs start to creek faintly. It immediately made your heart thud in your chest, body turning on instinct enough to see Todoroki as he came into view, his white socks clashing with the dark floor as he focused on the phone clasped between his fingers.

His hair was wet, a towel draped around his neck as his lips parted, a breathe falling from them, not loud enough for you to hear but it felt like it had knocked the wind out of you. His skin looked incredible, your pulse quickening the closer he got, nerves firing all at once when his head finally lifted and he spotted the three of you. His gaze moved from Momo to Awase before it landed on you, his tired eyes blinking a few times as he abandoned his phone on the breakfast bar.

“Todoroki.” You exhaled his name like his hands were squeezing your lungs, draining every drop of oxygen from your system. You swallowed, feeling a wash of calm for the moment his eyes lingered on your own, hating the feeling that grew in your chest when his eyes fell to Awase, who was still stood beside you with his hand on your lower back. For a moment his eyes flashed with an emotion you didn’t know, his bottom lip tucking beneath his front teeth.

“What are you two doing here?” His voice was vaguely hoarse, the way it sounded when he’d been crying or yelling, and it made your bones ache. It made you want to run over an wrap your arms around him, the pull in your heart like a magnet more powerful than the moon to the shores.

“They need to talk to us.” Momo cleared her throat after she spoke, trying to cover up the small waver in her voice. She tossed the last of the dumplings into the large pot of water before she turned around, hands wiping once again on her apron as her back leaned into the countertop.

“About what?” Todoroki’s eyebrows rose as he pulled the towel from around his neck, figure turning away from you in a way that felt like a subtle pinch to your heart, a bit of guilt for ignoring him spreading up your spine. Maybe it had hurt him like you suspected, maybe it had felt like you were shoving him away when he so desperately had wanted to hold onto you.

“About your soulmarks.” You pressed your lips into a thin line, Awase sucking in a sharp breathe beside you as his head bobbed in a nod, neither of you exactly sure how to bring the subject up subtly. His hand fell away from its place on your back, your teeth grinding together as you watched Momo’s brows furrowed together slightly in confusion, Todoroki’s back still towards you.

It was silent enough for a pin drop to be heard, neither Momo or Todoroki saying anything, as if they were waiting for yourself or Awase to further explain, though neither of you knew how. You looked over at Awase as he shifted his weight, his eyes catching onto yours as you nodded once towards his hand, resting your own flat against the marble island in front of you. There was a rustle from his hand being pulled out if his jean pocket, before he was holding it up like he was waving without any movement, the bold blue lines vibrant with the overhead light beaming down on him.

Momo audibly gasped, her hands raising subconsciously to cover her mouth as she stared, feet quickly padding across the wood floors so she could get a better look. The sound caught Todoroki’s attention as he finally turned, his thin white t-shirt collecting small dark circles from the drips of water coming from his hair, eyes flickering from your face to Awase’s hand twice before staying settled there on his palm. You swallowed hard, ignoring the boulder in your esophagus as your eyes danced between the three of them, wondering what they were all thinking, what they were all feeling.

You’d never seen anyone with your mark before, let alone been in the same room as two people who matched you.

“What’s going on?” Momo sounded out of breath as she hesitantly reached her hand forward to grab ahold of Awase’s as it lowered, his eyes glued to her face as she squinted down at his palm. You watched as she slid a finger over the main line of his mark, noting how she skipped over the small cut he still had healing across the center of the flesh.

“We don’t know.” Awase’s voice was hushed, like if he spoke too loud he’d scare her away, his lips pursing, puckered momentarily outward as he took a peek at you in his peripheral vision. You didn’t notice Todoroki had moved until you felt the warmth of his body closer to your own, his footsteps quiet until he came to rest between you and Momo’s sides. “After you two left the café she saw my hand, and said she’d seen it before.”

“I knew it was yours.” Your eyes shifted up to Todoroki, his own gaze focused on Awase’s palm as Momo held it, her own dark lines brushing against his fingertip before she placed her hands on the counter. You swallowed when Todoroki’s focus shifted over to you, eyes unreadable as his tongue poked out to wet his lips, and you swore for a second he was trying to tell you something with the look on his face, but you didn’t know what, voice shrinking with his proximity. “Both of yours, I mean.”

You’d missed his warmth, missed the heat that radiated from him so naturally when you were next to him, your arm feeling like it was being baked by the sun when his body weight shifted so he was closer to you. His fingers subtly nudged your own where your hands both hung by your thighs, the island blocking them from view, your body temperature spiking when you looked away from his face to instead focus back on Awase and Momo. You tried to keep your reaction neutral as Todoroki’s pinky finger slowly hooked with yours, fingers one by one all clasping into your own until your palms were flush together, heart thumping steadily like he was an anchor keeping you from drifting too far from his shore.

It was amazing how a simple touch from him was enough to have you near bursting at the seems, things seeming to blur in your mind for a moment as all you could focus on was how good it felt to be touching him. When your grip on him tightened he squeezed right back, your cheek burning where he was staring at you until Awase spoke up.

“I don’t understand how this can be happening.” He scratched at the back of his neck for a moment, bodyweight leaning into the counter before him as his teeth dug into his plump bottom lip. “It’s impossible for three people to be soulmates, right?”

“Right.” Todoroki’s head bobbed once slightly, his voice soft as he brushed his thumb along your own, chest rising and falling steadily as he glanced between Awase and Momo. Momo was staring at Awase for a beat, her eyebrows bunched together as she absentmindedly picked at the nail polish half chipped off her fingers. “None of this makes any sense.”

There was a lull in the conversation as the three of them all glanced between each other like one of them would suddenly have an answer, your face turning back up to look at Todoroki while he thought, admiring the way his skin looked when the light caught onto it. He looked incredibly tired, stressed, like the shower he’d taken had done little to relax the voices screaming in his eardrums, like he was desperate to shut the world away for a while and just breathe on his own. You moved closer to him without thinking, feeling Momo glancing at you but swallowing down the small amount of guilt it caused, resting your freehand on the countertop.

“Let me see your hands.”

For a moment, you’d thought Momo was talking to you and Todoroki, your eyes flickering down to your connected palms before Awase held out his own. Todorokis grip on you vanished as he lifted his hand up, both of the boys palms facing the ceiling as Momo placed her own between them, your chest aching in a way that made it hard to ignore. Your eyes burned but you blinked away the stinging in them, leaning forward slightly as Momo had to look over the blue lines that stained their skin.

“I read about something, a couple months ago.” Momo sounded half focused on what she was saying, her finger skimming along Awase’s hand before it moved to brush along Todoroki’s, a small pang of jealousy itching at the back of your throat. You ignored it best you could when she looked quickly over at you with a bob of her head. “It was right after Todoroki’s birthday, when he decided to stay at your place rather than go to dinner with me and his parents.”

She paused for a moment as you folded your arms across your stomach, her voice not full of malice or anger but rather a hint of sadness, of a pain you didn’t think you could really grasp. Because while you were longing after Todoroki for months, she had been watching him crave someone else for the entirety of time she knew him. Even if he’d never said it to her, and even if he tried his hardest to never let it show, she knew that while he cared about her, it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

Maybe Todoroki loved her, yes, but not in the way she wanted.

Not in the way soulmates were supposed to love each other.

“I was up one night, reading these articles online, in this poor state of mind, and I came across this article. These parents illegally had their child’s mark covered at some underground tattoo place, having it match another family’s child so they’d think they were soulmates. It was almost like some awful form of an arranged marriage. The kids only figured it out when they were older and one of them found a baby picture from before they covered his mark.” She trailed off, her eyes flickering between Todoroki’s palm and Awase’s, your mind reeling as the pieces in your mind seemed to slowly be clicking into place.

“I didn’t think it could have happened, because neither of us had ever met someone else with our marks before.” Momo looked over at Todoroki as his focus turned towards her, her eyes a bit red as she blinked a few times and smiled faintly at him. She looked as tired as Todoroki did, like she’d been fighting a losing battle for a long time and was finally ready to give up. “I knew neither of us felt right, that neither of us thought things were how they were supposed to be. You’d felt something for someone else, and I…”

Her voice trailed off as she took a glance at Awase, who was staring at her with such a strong gaze it made her cheeks flush with pink.

“I saw you once,” She said to him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as his head bobbed in a nod, like he remembered it too. Your eyebrows bunched together as another punch of confusion ghosted over your features. Todoroki’s hand left the counter to once again clasp down into your own, grip tighter than before. “at a train station. It was crowded and we bumped into each other, you had on gloves and I didn’t see your hands but I felt…something when I saw your face.”

“I felt it too.” Awase interjected, his eyes flickering down to the counter as his fingers bent to form a loose fist, his lids dropping shut as he sighed heavily. “I tried to look for you but when I did you were with a guy and too far gone. I figured it was just my imagination and I let it go.”

“It’s why I asked our parents for baby pictures a few months ago, I was thinking maybe I could find some proof that we weren’t supposed to be together.” Momo said, forcing herself to look away from him and instead focusing back on Todoroki, who you were sure also noticed the way both Awase and Momo’s cheeks were flushed with pink hues of warmth. “I didn’t find anything in mine, though.”

The silence that fell was heavy as Todoroki and Momo shared a look that felt too intimate for yourself and Awase to be watching, like you were witnessing a couple splitting apart, and perhaps you were. Maybe the both of them had felt it for a long time, that something was wrong with their supposedly destined relationship. Neither of them had brought it up, but both could tell that the other wasn’t happy, that they were forcing things when they shouldn’t have to. Momo shouldn’t have had to fight to have time with Todoroki when he was supposed to always want to be with her. Todoroki shouldn’t have felt so alone when Momo was right there, shouldn’t have never felt understood when she’d brush off his complaints like mere feathers on her shoulders.

Neither of them was right for the other, but they both cared enough to keep quiet, because they thought it was what they were supposed to do.

“Did you check mine too?” Todoroki spoke up, his head shaking slightly as a drip of water from his hair skimmed his cheekbone when it fell.

“Every single one.” Momo sighed as she pushed her hand through her hair, slipping her elastic onto her wrist as the strands hung loosely behind her neck, framing her cheeks like she was a beautiful painting. “I found nothing. I’m not really sure where to look for answers. It could have been either of our families, hell it might not have even been them. This could all be something else.”

“It’s not something else.” Todoroki’s voice grew harder, eyes floating shut as his jaw clenched down tight, all the air leaving his lungs as he shook his head. His grip on you grew more firm as his nostrils flared, your free hand raising to gingerly brush his shoulder when his eyes snapped back open. “It was my parents. I know it was, I’m positive.”

“Todoroki.” Your tone was timid compared to his own, body moving closer to his when his face turned towards you, his eyes burning red and full of irritation, tears starting to build in his waterline. You’d never seen him look more furious, more heartbroken, his hand leaving yours as he scrubbed at his eyes and immediately turned to go outside, the door slamming behind him and a silence enveloping the three of you still standing around the marble island.

You swallowed, staring at the door where his figure had just been, body aching to be following his, that pull in your chest stronger than ever knowing how upset he was. You couldn’t blame him for feeling so angry, for being so broken that he just wanted to fall apart where no one could see him. You knew pain, you knew the hurt that spread through your bones when you realized you didn’t have a soulmate. You were familiar with the hollow that made a home in you with the thoughts and voices constantly in your head, the never-ending reminders of your loneliness and heartache.

But you didn’t know how Todoroki felt.

His own parents had betrayed him, had set him up for a life where he’d never really get to be happy, not how he was supposed to. They lied to their son for their entire lives thus far, all so he’d marry someone he was never really supposed to love in the first place, and in the fallout from their actions they had crushed him. They had made Todoroki so full of guilt and longing that the weight of the world was piled up onto his shoulders. They made him loathe himself for not loving Momo the way he was supposed to, made him long after someone that maybe he could have had all along had they not sabotaged him out of selfishness.

Your body carried you out the door before you over thought things, not bothering to put your shoes back on as your feet made contact with the cold concrete of the front steps. You paused there while the door shut, watching Todoroki’s back as it rose and fell slowly from where he was sat on the curb, a car passing by making some of the fallen flower petals bustle past his figure. His shirt looked brighter from the way the streetlamps were hitting him, the sky turned a dark blue as night began to take over.

He was mute when you sank down into the spot beside him, your thighs pressed against each others as you rested your hands on your knees, staring up at the sky as he sniffled beside you. He didn’t move for a minute or so until he shifted enough to lift his head, eyes falling onto you when you turned enough to stare back at him. You were itching to touch him when you noticed the wet trail down his cheek, heart feeling like it was being hammered into bits and pieces as he leaned in and rested his forehead against your shoulder, his lips parted as he sucked in a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, Todoroki.” Your voice was a whisper as he slid his arms slowly around your middle, pulling your body closer to his own as his head fell to instead press into the crook of your neck, his nose nudging the side of your throat while his fingers dug into your back. Your cheek pressed into the top of his head as your fluttered your lids closed, letting him melt his body weight into you, savoring the warmth of his chest as the wind blew. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just can’t believe they’d do this to me. I know that we don’t always agree on things, but how could they just let me be so fucking miserable and pretend that it was all in my head.” His voice shook as it muffled against your collarbone, the reverberations making subtle goosebumps raise on the back of your neck. “What kind of person does that to someone they’re supposed to love?”

“Maybe it wasn’t them, Todoroki. We don’t know if that’s what really ha-”

“It was them.” He cut you off with a slight shake from his head, his shoulders raising as he pulled back enough to stare at you. His hair was a mess, now half air dried and sticking at odd angles, lips puffy from how much he kept licking and biting at them, eyes still stained with redness. “I know it was them. They always wanted a certain life for me, and they decided that was most important. They decided money and power and image were more important than their son’s fucking happiness.”

Your hand reached back behind you so you could grab onto his own, pulling it forward and clasping your palm so it was flush against his, hiding his blue lines from his view. He pressed his lips into a line as you lifted your other hand to brush the hairs away from his eyes. He leaned into your touch, eyes falling shut as his cheek pressed against the warmth of your fingers, like he was making sure you weren’t a daydream. It was hard for you to believe yourself that he was real, with the streetlamp casting a halo silhouette around his mess of white and red hair, eyes shining even in the dark, swimming with all the emotions that had started to pour from his soul.

“You should talk to them, confront them about it.”

“I will, but not tonight. I can’t tonight.” Todoroki blinked twice before letting his hand slip away from your own, reaching up to scrub at his exhausted eyes as you let your palm slip to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat as it hammered away. He leaned forward enough to press his lips to your forehead, muttering against the skin as your touch drifted from his cheek to instead plant on the crook of his neck. “I just need some time to process everything.”

You nodded as he languidly untangled himself from you completely, hands grabbing onto your own as he helped you stand, immediately slipping his arms back around your middle to hug you to his chest as he took a deep breathe, the smell of his cologne like you were being welcomed home after too much time away. Your arms looped easily around his hips, pressing your bodies so they were cemented together as he pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, savoring in the feeling of having you so close for a moment.

He felt like he was broken.

But you were broken too.

“It’s almost ironic. This is like some awful version of what I always wanted.”

You leaned back to look at him when he spoke, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as his fingers started to toy with the ends of your hair, careful not to tug too hard. Your eyebrows rose slightly, as if you were asking him to go on, lips parted as you took a gentle breathe when the wind blew chills onto your bare legs.

“I used to always hope that somehow I wouldn’t be her soulmate, that I’d have at least a shot at being with you, properly.” He mumbled, your heart thudding at the quiet confession as his lips spread into a half smile, one laced with heartache and framed with disappointment for the way the world had granted his wish. “I always pictured myself just waking up with your mark, not something like this. I guess I just never imagined it would be because of my parents being more selfish than loving.”

“It might not have been them, Todoroki.”

He shook his head at your optimism, his lips pressing once more into your forehead as he let his touch leave your body, except for his hand that tangled back into yours. He picked up your free one, kissing the middle of your palm and moving you slightly so your soulmark was in the light, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, like he was trying to force a lump down his esophagus, one that was making it hard for him to breathe. He was silent for a moment as he held you there and stared, taking in the gold as your fingers flexed slightly in an attempt to free your hand, not liking to look at it for so long. Even with things unraveling around you, you didn’t like to look your mark, like it was a reminder of all the torment soulmates had caused you, all the longing that left scars on your heart.

“I wonder if mine looks like this, underneath the tattoo.” He muttered, mostly to himself, his eyes dancing over to you once before he was focusing back on your palm, finger tracing a line right down the strip of pigment on your skin. The image made your lungs shrink as you tried not to get your hopes up too high, the grip you had on his hand tightening when your eyes burned at the thoughts that started to rush to your head, dark ones that were used to broken hopes.

“What if it doesn’t?”

His eyes turned back towards you, lips parting, like he was surprised by your question. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what would happen now. Sure, in your heart you wanted it to be Todoroki, you wanted the person you matched to be him more than anything you’d ever longed for in your entire life. You wanted that tattoo on his palm to get removed and you wanted to find a strip of gold waiting there for you all along. But you had gotten used to the disappointment, familiar with the let downs when your dreams came crashing back to earth, leaving you broken and unable to really fit the pieces back together.

“It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t.”

He sounded firm, confident as he let your palm go and opted to cup your cheek instead, a car driving by that casted bright lights on him for a moment. He took a deep breath, leaning forward and letting his eyes drop shut as his lips ghosted over your own before he kissed you fully. It wasn’t full of dramatic passion, wasn’t laced with the longing you’d both felt for so long, wasn’t desperate and needy like you were scared you’d never get to taste him again. It was gentle, soft, quiet like the world around you had melted away and all that was left was the simultaneous beatings of your hearts when he pulled back so your noses were brushing, voice barely audible as he whispered.

“I’m yours, no matter what.”

[previous] - [next chapter]

#todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki angst #todoroki smut #todoroki fluff #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #milk and tea fic

158 notes · View notes

chokemeanakin · 4 years ago

Note

Anakin and a super giggly reader? Like laughing gas giggly? Or if youre wanting fun times request, him seeing reader jealous of the way girls look at him and Ani showing her he only had eyes for her?

I did both :) Hope you enjoy <3

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Anakin with a giggly reader headcanons (gn)

Normally you’re not this giggly. Don’t get me wrong, you love to laugh and have a good time, but something is off about you today. Anakin notices right away.

He walks into your apartment to bring you some lunch to find you poking at R2, who beeps in annoyance while you laugh at him. He rolls around you, poking you back with his metal utility arm which only sends you into more fits of laughter. You chase him around and try to hug him but he wheels away from you as fast as you can.

Anakin watches you for a moment, a smile on his lips before he realizes how weird you’re acting.

”Y/n?” you turn when he calls your name and your face lights up once again. You run towards him and take the food and when you see he’s brought you your favorite drink, you fall backward onto the couch and start sipping it, a content smile on your face. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

You finish about half of the drink before you decide to answer. “Obi-Wan gave me like 6 pills for my headache. I feel great!”

”He gave you how many pills?”

Anakin has to stop himself from turning around and hunting Obi-Wan down. Shouldn’t he of all people know how to dose someone correctly? And why didn’t he at least stay with you to supervise you if he knew he messed up?

”Stop pouting,” you giggled and poked his cheek. “It’s not really his fault. He was in a rush somewhere so he left R2 with me. R2 where’d you go?”

He beeped warily from the corner.

Anakin got you to tell him which pills exactly Obi-Wan gave you, and figured out that you were only supposed to get 2 pills at the most. Thank god they weren’t lethal, and side-effects of over dosing were… he guessed it… extreme euphoria.

He releases R2 from babysitting duties and takes over. He wrangles you to the couch where he hopes you can watch a show on the tv until the pills work its way through your system, but everything the screen flashes hurls you into fits of ab-aching laughter.

You end up in tears, rolling around on the ground, and even Anakin can’t help but smile and shake his head at your ridiculous state. He turns the tv off when you plop onto him and refuse to get off, just playing with his hair and running your fingers over the planes of his face.

Your face gets serious, and then suddenly breaks out into a huge grin, over and over like a cycle. You laugh, but won’t tell him what’s so funny.

He knows you’re not in the right state of mind, but he thinks you’re beautiful when you smile and takes full advantage of the opportunity to stare at it shamelessly.

Then the second side-effect of overdosing takes place, and you pass out cold right on top of him.

Anakin Skywalker x Jealous/Insecure Reader (fem)

You had no issue with keeping your and Anakin’s relationship a secret. You weren’t going to stand in the way of his Jedi career, and honestly sneaking around had a bit of a thrill to it. It was only moments like this when you hated not being about to claim Anakin as yours in front of the entire world.

You were taking a break from your tasks of the day and sat on a bench in the garden, eating your lunch as you watched Anakin and Obi-Wan train before you. It was hot out, so the boys had taken their shirts off long ago-- not that you were complaining.

You tried to observe Anakin as innocently as possible-- the way his muscles moved as he swung his lightsaber, how his hair stuck to his forehead, and beads of sweat dripped down his chest. He was literally glowing in the sunlight. Your heart swelled at the sight of him.

This beautiful man… and he was all yours.

It was then that you heard the giggling. You turned your head to see through the bushes. Senator Padme Amidala was leading a group of three of her friends-- handmaidens, from back when she was Queen-- through the gardens. They had stopped just outside the clearing you were in and were watching, pointing, and giggling at the two boys training. They hadn’t seemed to notice you yet.

Padme walked casually into the clearing, and your heart sunk as the three girls followed behind. They were all beautiful. Not just Padme, with her chocolate brown eyes, endless curls, and soft face. But the girls behind her were all tall, slim, and jaw-droppingly lovely. All four of them seemed to radiate like angels under the afternoon sun.

“Good evening, General Skywalker. Master Kenobi,” Padme greeted with a sweet smile. You knew Padme was an old flame of Anakin’s, but it never really bothered you. He always assured you it was just a little childhood crush, nothing more, and you trusted him. But something about her was making your blood boil now.

“Senator,” Anakin bowed his head in greeting, deactivating his saber. He bent to retrieve his shirt from the ground and wiped the sweat away from his face, giving the girls a full show of his glistening muscles in the process. “What brings you out here?”

“My friends from Naboo are visiting and I thought I’d show them around the gardens. Then I saw you two training and thought I might introduce them to two of the finest Jedi in the galaxy.”

The girls’ laughter tinkled like bells in the air, and Padme kept that same sugary-grin plastered on her face.

Padme is a friend, you had to remind yourself. She means no harm.

She stepped aside and gestured to the girls, introducing them as Samé, Moté, and Rowé. They each bowed in turn, long curtains of hair almost brushing the ground, and returning to a standing position with equally gorgeous, shy smiles.

Anakin crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow playfully. “I don’t know if we’re the two ‘finest’ Jedi in the galaxy, but your input is appreciated. It’s a pleasure to meet you three.”

This made the girls erupt in another fit of giggles. You wanted to gouge your eyes out.

“Well,” he looked from you to Obi-Wan, not really knowing what to do next. Yet, always the charmer, he offered, “Obi-Wan and I are still in the midst of training, if you would like to stay for a bit. You can sit on the bench with Y/n over there. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sharing.”

You wanted to crawl into a hole when he pointed you out. All eyes were on you, and you forced your scowl into a pained smile.

“Sure,” you forced a kind tone, scooching over to give them all a place to sit. They all glided over to you, their dresses floating behind them in the breeze.

As soon as Padme sat next to you, you were enveloped in the scent of daisies and vanilla. You wanted to cry. Why did they all get to be so beautiful and smell good?

“Hello Y/n,” Padme greeted with that same sweet smile. Her eyes looked golden in the sunlight. “Are you eating lunch?”

Suddenly, being surrounded by girls who were far taller and toned than you were made your stomach stop grumbling. You put the sandwich that you had been gripping too hard back into your bag, and kicked it under the bench.

“I was just finishing,” you told her.

She nodded, kind face still trained on you as the other girls’ attention was solely focused on the two dueling men before you.

“I’m sorry about barging in… I didn’t mean to intrude. My friends have never met a Jedi before, and when I told them about Anakin and Obi-Wan they were so excited to meet them.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” you folded your hands in your lap, nails digging into the skin of your palms. “You weren’t interrupting anything. And I’m sure Anakin and Obi-Wan would love to show off a little bit.”

“Of course they would. They won’t admit it, but they both have a bit of an ego... as I’m sure you already know,” Padme laughed lightly, her smile blinding you. Then she turned her attention to the Jedi.

The five of you watched them train for a while. Samé, Moté, and Rowé oohed and ahhed at different times, gasping when the fighting got intense, and crossing and uncrossing their legs. You managed to quell the anger burning in your chest during this time, reminding yourself of how childish you were being. So what a couple of beautiful women were practically drooling over your boyfriend? It’s not like Anakin was even acknowledging them.

You couldn’t help but listen in on their conversations though. It started with a “He’s very cute, don’t you think?” and continued on to “Look at his muscles,” “Look how fit,” “That is one gorgeous man Padme, how have you never thought about courting him?”

“Ladies,” Padme gently quieted their giggling. “Jedi cannot form attachments. You can observe all you want, but acting on any attraction would be disrespectful.”

You could just about kiss Padme.

But the comments didn’t stop. They kept talking about him-- his eyes, his hair, his mouth. His power, physique, strength, everything. It went on and on.

“What about Obi-Wan?” you spoke up. The girls quieted, and surveyed, and the middle girl spoke.

“He’s also very nice,” she admitted. “I’d take either of them, honestly, but my first choice would have to be the Skywalker guy.”

Your blood started to spike again. They’re not deli meats, you wanted to snap. You can’t own them.

Your jealousy was hypocritical. You knew this. That’s why you stayed rooted to the spot, not a peep coming out of your mouth.

It was only when the girls began shouting requests-- “Anakin, twirl your lightsaber behind your back again! Anakin do a backflip! Anakin, float me that flower with the force!”-- that you had had enough.

He had obliged to their requests. Of course he did. He was a gentleman, after all, and ignoring them would have been rude. But watching that rose-- your favorite flower-- fly through the air and gently tuck into Rowé’s silky smooth hair had you shooting to your feet, grabbing your bag from under the bench, and muttering an excuse to leave to Padme. You were out of the gardens before anyone could question you.

You stormed into your apartment, clenching and unclenching your fists as you paced.

It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, you chanted in your head.

You stopped your pacing when you caught your reflection in the mirror. You stared at yourself, unable to stop comparing yourself to the girls in the garden.

It’s not that you weren’t pretty. You thought you were… at least before today. But you had never been the most confident in your looks to begin with, and seeing those girls interact with Anakin today felt like a punch in the gut.

He could do so much better.

You weren’t as thin as them, you didn’t wear flowy dresses, or float on elegant footsteps, or have miles and miles of silky smooth hair. You suddenly felt too big, too ugly, too disgusting.

All the confidence you had worked up in order to be with Anakin… gone.

Suddenly, the door to your apartment opened. You quickly wiped away the tear that had escaped from your eye and turned away from the mirror, heading to the bookshelf to look busy.

“Y/n?” Anakin asked, peering around the corner for you. You kept your back turned, trying to stop the sudden onslaught of tears as you pretended to organize the bookshelf. “You’re upset. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not--” oh, what was the use? Of course he could tell you were crying. It was that damn force perception of his that made it virtually impossible for you to hide any kind of emotion from him. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he pressed, walking up behind you. Carefully, he put a hand on your shoulder. “You can talk to me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“If it’s hurting you, it’s not stupid.”

“I’m being immature. I just need to get over it.”

Anakin was quiet for a moment. “Is this about Padme’s friends?”

You squeezed your eyes closed, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Anakin spun you around to face him, but you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“I don’t know why you even like me,” you whispered thickly, tears still choking you up. “I’m disgusting compared to them.”

The words burned your tongue as they left your mouth. You had never been so open about your insecurities with Anakin, not like this at least. You had always put on a brave face before him, tried to exude confidence. He said he liked that about you. But now… he was really seeing you at your worst. And you were fully prepared for his feelings to change due to it.

“Y/n,” Anakin said. His voice was clipped, angry. “Y/n, look at me.”

He took your chin in his hand and forced your face up. You dropped your hands from your face, but kept your eyes cast downward shamefully. You could not bear to look him in his beautiful, angry face or you were pretty sure you would lose it altogether.

Instead of snapping at you, which you were preparing for, you felt the ghost of Anakin’s lips trace the skin of your jaw. He pressed a kiss beneath your ear, then the side of your neck, then the junction between your neck and shoulder. He made his way back up, leaving gentle, scalding kisses all over your face and neck. He kissed away a tear that had escaped, swiping another dry with his thumb. He kissed you until you felt okay enough to look him in the eyes.

“There’s my girl,” he grinned. Perfect. Gorgeous. Totally out of your league.

He held your face between both of his hands so you could not escape the intensity of his gaze. His eyes bore into you like lasers, stripping you completely bare. With your incredibly low self-esteem, he very well might as well have.

“Stop,” you muttered. You didn’t want to hear him try to build your confidence back up. There was no going back after the images of those beautiful girls plagued your mind from today.

Anakin pursed his lips and sighed. “Baby,” he smoothed his hand over your hair soothingly, eyes following his movements. “You don’t see what I see.”

“I don’t need to,” you argued. “Not when there’s people like them walking around.”

“But they’re not you,” Anakin’s voice was fierce. “There are so many beautiful people walking around in this galaxy, billions probably, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. But I am attracted to you, Y/n. I love you. And no one else.”

“Why, though?” you couldn’t help but ask. The memory of the flower tucking itself into Rowé’s hair came flashing back into your mind. Her glittering smile. The fluttering eyelashes. The rosy blush painting her cheeks.

Anakin released your face and grabbed your hand instead. “Come here,” he ordered, leading you to the mirror you had been looking at. He positioned you in front of him and stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and chin resting on your shoulder. A king draped over a peasant.

“Let me tell you what I see,” his deep voice murmured in your ear. He started with your arms, running his hands lightly from your shoulders, dipping into the curves of your elbows, tracing a line down your forearm, and entwining his fingers with yours. “These are beautiful,” his eyes were focused on your reflection.

He brought his hands back up, then began trailing them down your sides, holding your waist between his large hands and pressing his palms flat against your stomach. “This is beautiful.”

His hands made their way down to your hips, where you had to stop yourself from squirming. You were ticklish there. His hands fit perfectly over your curves, and he breathed, “This is beautiful.”

He got on his knees suddenly, shifting so that he was in front of you. Your face was on fire as his hands continued their journey down, over the tops of your thighs, to your knees, fitting over your calves and holding your ankles. “These are beautiful,” he looked up at you.

He got up, and caught your chin in his hand again. “And this,” he whispered, breath fanning over your lips. He raked his eyes up and down your face, shamelessly admiring it. “This is the most beautiful of all.”

He captured your lips in his after saying this, feeling the heat pool in your cheeks with his hands. The kiss was soft, and short, and sweet. But it turned you into a pool of jelly under his ministrations, your knees going weak and eyes brimming with tears for a different reason than earlier.

“There is no need to be self-conscious,” he spoke when he broke away. “There’s no need to compare yourself to other girls. You are mine, and I am yours, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

No words would ever be good enough to show your gratitude toward Anakin. Your solution-- press your lips to his again, and show him how good he made you feel.

#take a shot every time someone says ‘beautiful’#anakinskywalker x reader #star wars prequals #soft anakin #anakin skywalker #jealous reader #insecure reader #anakin fluff

415 notes · View notes

hillnerd · 4 years ago

Text

Waking Up - Chapter 4

Rating M A03 ff.net [ Previous Chapter] [start at the beginning] Giant thank you to @abradystrix and @divagonzo for betaing and being so supportive and wonderful.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: cursing, depresssed/anxious thinking, talk about eating & weight gain/loss, PTSD, brief mentions of substance abuse

Previously, on 'Waking Up'

Hermione struggles on her own with plans to get her parents back, eating, and nightmares

She and Harry have a tiff over her putting silencing spells on herself (to keep anyone from hearing nightmares)

Harry Ron and Ginny play quidditch- and afterwards Ron and Hermione have a all out fight about her lack of self care and his doting

Harry has a panic attack from a loud noise Ron witnesses (Hermione sees from hiding)

Hermione and Ron make up with some grinding behind the shed

George comes back (had previously been drunk and arrested- but only Ron and Arthur know about this)

The trio get formal invitations to the Aurors and Order of Merlin

Ron and Hermione have a convo where she says how dumb she thinks it is for Harry to become an Auror

=======================================================

CHAPTER 4- THE VILLAGE

His stomach swooped like he’d missed a step. The blaring panic, the contraction of his muscles as he wildly tried to keep from falling, the disequilibrium... It was all there, only there was no missed step: just him following Hermione into the house for lunch.

He slumped into a chair and stared around him.

George mostly kept his head down, unable to look anyone in the eye and forcing his gaze up only when he had trouble focusing on a question. Harry was still pale and making little jerky movements when there was a noise. Ginny was putting on a smile and pretending everything was alright, but he saw her mouth twitching and faltering every time she thought no one was looking. Mum was trying to keep the conversation going with George and spectacularly failing. With every failed conversation she looked a touch more deflated, a touch more wane, a touch more close to saying ‘I need to take a nap.’ Hermione was barely eating her food again, staring at Harry with concern. And Ron couldn’t find it in himself to do anything to help anyone.

He didn’t have words anymore. He’d used them all up over the last twelve hours. He’d gone to the Ministry to get George, he’d talked to the Minister about his future, he’d talked to his Dad about his past, he’d gone to the hotel to deal with George’s mess, he’d played Quidditch, he’d fought with Hermione, he’d tried to be there through Harry’s panic terror, then he and Hermione had gotten off behind the shed in the most spectacular way, but George was back, and now Hermione hated the idea of Aurors and would think he was an idiot for taking up with them and... And he couldn’t take any more.

He knew it was ridiculous. It was nothing! He’d basically done nothing all day, but somehow Ron felt close to passing out.

“Eat up,” Ginny prodded him, giving his plate a quizzical look. Oh right…

Ron took a bite of sandwich and muscled it down his throat. He mournfully gazed at the sandwich. It had looked so appetizing before his talk with Hermione. He was relieved she had no interest in being an Auror, but he hadn’t predicted everything else.

He’d thought she’d be proud of the idea. It wasn’t an accomplishment that Ron had been asked to be an Auror, since everyone and their owl seemed to be getting asked, but wasn’t joining the right thing to do? Wasn’t it a career choice she should be proud of him for?

Apparently not.

She’d snorted and rolled her eyes at Harry joining. Harry! The Boy-Who-Defeated Voldemort! If she thought Harry couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t imagine her thinking any better of him. In fact, he knew she wouldn’t like it.

He started to see why Hermione couldn’t eat. Who could? Everything was so horrid it was through pure force of will that he was able to eat his sawdust sandwich and swallow each bite. His body felt jittery and weak, and every time he reached for his glass of water, he was less and less sure he’d be able to hold it without it slipping from his grasp.

“I’m going to go shower,” Ron mumbled to no one in particular, pushing himself away from the table, surprised at how together he was able to sound.

“Don’t you want to stay and celebrate the sandwiches you made?” George asked. He had a panicked look in his eye that plainly said ‘don’t leave me here alone with them!’ Ron wavered in place. Maybe he could find it in himself if—

“He’s ripe! Let him shower,” said Ginny. “Why don’t we put on the wireless and listen to the game? Kestrels and Harpies are the first pair doing a post war charity match. It’s set to start in a bit.”

Some of the tension in George ebbed, and Ron vowed to give his little sister a giant hug when he wasn’t feeling close to unconsciousness. He discreetly picked his letters up from the table and without another word he dragged himself up the stairs, one plodding foot at a time. He nearly caught his foot on the final stair, but finally made it safely to the bathroom. He placed his Ministry letters next to the sink and as the shower water heated he dared to look at himself in the mirror. He was pale with great purple bags under his eyes, but other than that looked better than he had when on the run with Horcruxes. Good. He might not be able to feel good, but he could look the part.

He turned the spigot to the shower and as hot water hit him in the chest he let out a sigh. The shower was the only place that really felt safe from everyone. Keeping watch late at night always had the chance of someone coming upon him, but in the shower with the too hot water pounding on him, he could rely on at least a moment of being completely alone. Safe and alone. Never clean though. No matter how the water scalded him, or how hard he scrubbed his skin raw, he never quite felt clean anymore.

He bent at the knees and stooped, chin tucked to his chest, to properly wet his hair. Given how tall all the Weasleys were, he wondered at how they’d never gotten around to installing a higher shower head. After only a few minutes of scrubbing he was too exhausted to stand, much less stoop so low.

Not ready to leave his steamy sanctuary, he put in the plug, and sat in the tub as it filled with water.

He hadn’t expected to see George there today. Maybe a few days out… The moment he’d seen him crossing the lawn he’d hoped George would lose his nerve and go away again. He knew it was awful to wish it. He couldn’t feel any relief at George’s return. His brother looked like a dead man walking, and still vaguely smelled of booze, whether it was sweated out from his binge the night before or from a fresh bout of drinking, Ron wasn’t sure, despite George’s reassurances.

He sat in the tub, letting the warmth lull him into a dozy calm state he hadn’t felt in ages. It didn’t matter that the water barely made it a few inches above his navel and his legs were bent at a funny angle to keep as much of him underwater as possible. He finally turned off the faucet and propped his head against the still cool tile, letting sleep cloud his mind.

“Got you to scream good and loud for me, didn’t I?” came a voice. He could feel the hot breath in his ear, the weight on top of him.

“Ron?”

He kicked out but was paralyzed and unable to move. He shook, fear clenching at him, invading his pores.

“Ron, you drowning in there?”

Ron startled and began to sit up, hand slipping as he tried to gain purchase against white porcelain. His whole body shook. His arm was curled under him and throbbed. The comforting warmth of the tub water had turned cold, but he couldn’t help but feel that his shaking was due to the half-formed memories bubbling to the surface as he slept.

“Ron!” his sister called, more insistent than before.

“I’ll be a minute, Ginny!” he hoarsely called back, sitting up straighter and blinking his eyes, willing wakefulness back into them.

“You’ve been there well over an hour already.”

He dazedly looked about for his wand to reheat his water, not ready to face anyone. What was the spell for heating up water again? The only one that came to mind boiled water.

He should know this! He had to use it in the shower when they were on the Horcrux Hunt every time. His mind remained blank.

With a resigned sigh he shakily removed the stopper. No more warm bath for him. Maybe he would go upstairs and nap. He hugged his long legs close to his chest and flexed his numb left hand. His fingers only partially complied.

“Stupid bloody arm.”

He shook it and hit the side of his fist against the tiled wall a few times. The fingers stuttered and twitched but finally started to move. He let out a pained hiss.

“Ron?”

“What!” He bit out.

“It’s been over an hour!” Ginny insistently cried out.

“If you need the bathroom so bad, use it!” he yelled back, fumbling for his wand on the ground before opening the lock with a twist of his wand. “It’s unlocked. Have at it!”

He jerked the curtain more tightly closed and roughly scrubbed his face, shivering at the slight breeze the opening door caused.

She shut the door and he heard the telltale sniffing of Ginny trying to keep herself from crying.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, really swell,” she shot back with a wavering voice. She wasn’t all out crying, but she was close enough.

The curtain almost imperceptibly swayed, and he could tell she’d sat herself on the floor next to the tub.

“It’s been really... really great down there,” she said, sniffing even harder.

Ron leaned his head back against the tile wall. So much for naps.

“Give me a few minutes and I can meet you in my room.”

“Yeah?” Her voice sounded small and young; that, along with the brittle hope he heard in her voice, made his resentment evaporate.

“‘Course.”

“I’ll see you there,” she murmured, quickly leaving the bathroom.

He wanted to sit in the uncomfortably cold cast iron tub well after the last of the water had circled the drain. No matter how jittery his guts were feeling or how his eyes were burning with fatigue, he knew he couldn’t.

He hadn’t heard her sound that vulnerable in so long, it was almost a relief. After Riddle’s diary it took her years to find her footing, but when she finally did there were a whole lot of walls up. She’d always been chatty and excitable, but now there was a forced enthusiasm she’d wheel out that never felt fully authentic to Ron. She’d always had a wicked sense of humor, but now it was more barbed and defensive. She’d always been a tough little thing, but now she exaggerated it and laid on the sass and swagger thick

He hoped there’d be a day he didn’t notice the toll Voldemort took on his family, but that was unimaginable at this point.

He Accio ’ d some clean clothes from his room and changed. He glanced at the mirror and saw an imprint of the tiles on his cheek.

“Nothing for that…” he mumbled to himself, giving a yawn before going up the stairs to his room, Ministry letters clutched once again in his hand. He had never particularly minded how many flights it was up to his room — it was one of the only reasons he was afforded any privacy in the overcrowded house— but lately he’d begun to hate how many flights of stairs he had to ascend. When he was bone weary, and not fully trusting himself to apparate safely, it was a real kick in the bollocks. He gave a knock on the door before going in.

Ginny sat on his bed, her face blotchy and red.

He sat beside her and waited for her to say something. When she stayed silent he put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a one armed hug.

“It’s just...” she said with a deep inhale, before a sound burst out of her, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She stifled it behind a hand. He gripped his shaking sister tighter.

“You saw George! And Mum is… I’ve never seen her so tired, so bloody old .” Her voice shook and her eyes filled with tears. “And Hermione is still acting off and Harry… I don’t know what happened, but he’s been shaking ever since Quidditch and his hugs have been too tight, and I don’t… I don’t know!”

Ron quietly nodded, as his sister turned her head into his shoulder and hot tears soaked through his shirt.

As children she used to cry all the time, half of the time just to get her way. After her horrifying first year there had been plenty of nights he’d found her crying. Those nights he’d stay with her until morning. Then the crying stopped. Her eyes might flood with angry or worried tears, but she didn’t cry all-out in front of him after that. Ron caught her sniffing and trying to stifle her tears after Harry dumped her late one night. She never asked him to help her or to stay, but he stayed with her until morning that time too.

Minutes passed and finally her silent crying slowed.

“Sorry,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“S’nothing,” he said, gently patting her back in small circles, the same way their Mum did.

“I’m just glad you’re doing alright. At least someone in the family hasn’t gone completely mental on me.”

Ron breath stilled a bit as he continued to consolingly pat her. He wouldn’t think of the dream he’d had in the bath.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he choked out. He swallowed and hoped his voice would come out steady. “Tonight we’ll go out and have some fun, yeah? I bet we can get some smiles on their faces, between the two of us.”

She gave a watery laugh, pulled away from him, and wiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“Yeah, between the two of us,” she said with a smile. It faltered and she looked at her hands. “But we won’t be able to team up for much longer, will we?”

“Wha’dyou mean?”

She bit her lip. “You’re going to join the Aurors with Harry, aren’t you?”

Ron let out his breath between his teeth. “Yeah. Yeah I am,” he said, bracing himself for a lecture. Instead he felt his breath squeezed out of him by a fierce hug.

“I knew you would!” She pulled back, smiling at him.

“Yeah, well, someone has to make sure Harry doesn’t get blown up or something.”

“Exactly! If anyone can keep him from that, it’s you.” She rubbed at her eyes again.

He didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended by her response. He wanted someone to be happy for him, of course, but the way she was looking at him she seemed more happy he’d be there to keep Harry safe.

“Don’t tell Hermione I’m becoming one.” Ginny gave him a questioning look, prompting him to explain. “She’s not too keen on the idea and I want to figure out a way to tell her myself.”

“How do you know she’s against it?”

“I felt her thoughts out for it, didn’t I? She made a fuss over Harry becoming one, saying he was ‘throwing his life away,’ how it was a ‘ridiculous choice.’”

“Well,” she said rather slowly. “I can’t say I entirely blame her…”

“How’s that?” Offense rose inside him. Did everyone have a meeting to agree they thought he was weak?

“Oh come off it. Auror isn’t exactly the safest of jobs, is it? And with the war we just went through and Fr—” Her voice stopped short. “With everyone we lost, it won’t be easy for any of us knowing you’re out there fighting Death Eaters again. Only this time we can’t help you.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. Ginny gave him a sharp look. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your boyfriend safe.”

“I’d like you to stay safe too, you know,” she said, jabbing him in the side with one of her pointy little elbows.

“Aw, Gin. You do care!” he said with a forced laugh, hoping to prod her into better humor.

“Only for Harry’s sake. He’d never function with you,” she snorted and smiled fondly at him, before giving him a punch to the arm that would have hurt if her fists weren’t so tiny.

“You’d miss me if a Death Eater spelled my brains out.”

“You’d have to have brains in order for them to be spelled out!” she snickered.

“Well I’m sure the Ministry would be just as happy to have me be a human shield for Harry, so it doesn’t matter if I have much brains or not.”

She gave him a much less friendly strike to the arm before snapping, “Don’t talk like that!”

Tingles erupted down his left arm where she’d hit him.

“Sorry,” Ron said sobberly. He needed to stop making comments like that around his family. Gallows humor wasn’t as easy to traverse as it had been before, or even during, the war. He massaged his arm where she’d struck it.

They looked at each other before she sighed.

“Better toughen up a bit before you join,” said Ginny. She attempted to smile at him, but it was a miserable attempt. So much for cheering up his sister. She rose from the bed with a sigh. “I’ve been gone a bit long for a trip to the loo— not that they’d notice, they’re all so out of it— You coming?”

Ron shook his head.

“I want to fill out my Auror documents before someone tries to talk me out of it.”

Ginny gave an understanding smile. “Yeah, best to get it over with now. Gives Hermione less to hassle you about if there’s ‘Official Ministry Paperwork’ already submitted.”

“Cheers,” he replied as she left.

He collapsed back on his bed and unfurled the Auror paperwork Kingsley had sent. Much of it was just forms he had to fill out, questionnaires, and towards the end was an outline of the program, pay, and signing bonus - information he hadn’t even considered. Refreshingly, he’d be making his own way right off the bat!

He needed to get all sorts of documents sent in to them as well: permission for release of grades and medical records from Hogwarts, a written out CV of sorts, and he’d need to have medical and mental evaluations that would be arranged through the Auror office, as well as a final interview.

He dropped the papers on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. His chest tightened.

Kingsley hadn’t said anything about evaluations or interviews…

Looking at it laid out in black and white made his decision become more tangible than before, and the thought of failing made his gut clench. So far no one seemed to think him capable of being a competent Auror. Maybe he’d not even be able to qualify after all. If his doubters were right about him it’d just be another time he’d fucked up and disappointed everyone.

Hermione might think becoming an Auror so soon after the war was stupid, but if he couldn’t even get past the evaluations he knew she’d respect him less. If Harry failed an evaluation or utterly bombed an interview Ron had no doubt they’d still let him through. He was The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, or whatever it was they were calling him now. But Ron? He was a complete nobody. The only reasons Kingsley talked to him were because of the family connection and their need for warm bodies in the department. The bar was as low as it could ever be, and Ron could still fuck it up. It was one thing when he’d privately agreed to be an Auror, but now everyone knew he’d been asked. They’d all know if he fucked up.

He thought it was a guarantee, but now... Now it was this looming uncertain mass of chaos, where anything could happen. He could let everyone down, just like he always did. He could fail and not get in.

Or worse, what if they let him into the Aurors and he fucked up the same way he had in the war? He was so weak he’d just stood by while Fred died. He was so weak the Locket had almost made him kill his best friend. He was so weak he’d abandoned Harry and Hermione. He was so weak he’d been captured by Snatchers in minutes and they’d —

He fled to his wastebasket and gagged over it before he splattered sick into the container. The foul taste made him vomit again, making tears sting his eyes. He couldn’t stop the retching and continued until it was nothing but dry-heaves.

“F-fuck...” he panted, and wiped at his eyes. He pushed the small bin away from himself, face curled into distaste. He spelled the sick away and did a quick tooth cleaning spell as well, which only helped remove the acrid taste from his mouth so much. The smell didn’t entirely dissipate from the room either.

The Auror forms still sat on the bed.

Ron grabbed them and nearly shut them in his bedside drawer when his hand stilled. He laid them on his pillow, gently un-creasing them.

He’d told Kingsley he’d sign up. He’d told his dad. He’d told George. He’d told Ginny. His mother was expecting him to sign up. Harry couldn’t go it alone.

He let out a trembling breath. He needed to get a quill and ink before he lost the will.

Finding no writing implements in his bedside drawer he looked about in his old Hogwarts trunk. After diving through old robes, essays, books, chocolate frog cards, and other detritus, he’d not found one intact quill. The only ink bottle he’d found was completely dried out, a large black stain beside it marring the bottom of his trunk’s interior. He riffled through Harry’s belongings and was still empty handed, only finding a very dull quill on its last legs, but no bottles of ink that weren’t dried out with flakes of ink rattling in them.

How did two of-age blokes not have one quill and ink set between them? Giving up, he made his way to Ginny’s room. He unsuccessfully poked about in her small roll top desk when he noticed Hermione’s book bag.

Jackpot.

She’d been writing just earlier. He could nick what he needed and return them before she knew they were gone.

He gave a chuckle as he found numerous bottles of ink, and quills galore at the bottom of her stuffed bag. Only Hermione would have brought that many backups on her person to translate runes in a field. As he put everything back, her somewhat ratty copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard fell open, scattering parchments across the floor.

He gave a groan and stooped to the floor, trying to put the papers in some semblance of order. He’d read the book enough to know what order the stories went in at least. Her usual neat and ordered writing looked almost as loopy and sloppy as his, but after a tick he realized he wasn’t holding translations at all.

There were haphazard notes and semblances of ideas, none about fairy tales or runes.

Portkey. (need to research obtaining one and cost) Taxi. ( £60?) Hotel. (??) Food. (???) Yellow pages. Government records. Private investigator. (cost?) Go to library? Research prices and conversion rate. Check on house. How many days would I be gone?

It took a few moments to decipher the cryptic list. Conversion rates? A portkey? Where was she planning on going? Then it hit him with all the subtlety of a bludger to the head. This was about her parents, and Australia.

He’d been so taken up with his family he hadn’t really thought about Hermione’s. They were safely away, and though Hermione had talked about them in passing, she’d never mentioned going to get them.

Normally he could imagine her dealing with this on her own. Her sharp mind always parsed problems with ease, and she was a bit of a genius to boot. Lately though… It wasn’t like she wasn’t still incredibly intelligent, but there was something off in just about everything she did. The way she ate, the way she talked, the way she slept… Her usual meticulous notes were haphazard and directionless, laid out in a mess like he’d never seen from her before.

Funds- £56 5 Galleons, 2 knuts. Sell jewelry from home? Get loan? Rent house? Ask Harry? Get job- where? Muggle or wizard?

He wasn’t exactly sure how much fifty-six pounds was in Wizard money, but he doubted it could be all that much, if the local Muggle market’s grocery prices were anything to go by. He couldn’t imagine her getting a job or sorting all the details out on her own in her current state.

Ron carefully tucked the pages back into Beedle and placed it in her bag.

Sure he’d put things back in their place, he bounded up the stairs and began filling out forms at a haphazard pace. Giving the forms a final once over, he called Pig over to deliver them. Before he’d even had a chance to attach them, his little owl excitedly chirped and flew straight into the window.

“Shit! Pig, you ok?” Ron asked, picking up the little owl. Pig shook his head and cheeped at Ron, eagerly cuddling up under his chin. “Alright alright! Calm down! Keep it together. I need you to deliver these for me. This goes to the Auror Admissions Office at the Ministry. Think you can find that and not fly into any more windows?”

Pig preened and twittered in confirmation as Ron tied the forms to his leg.

“You’ve got this, little guy,” he said, before opening the window and watching his owl fly into the distance.

Hopefully the department would get him assessed quickly. Even with his starting money from the Auror program he wasn’t sure it would be enough to cover a trip around the world to recover her parents. Maybe he could work somewhere to make some more money for her? If he started by the end of the week, perhaps he could save enough to get Hermione to her parents before Hogwarts commenced.

She didn’t know where to find her parents, but he knew exactly who to seek help with for this. Percy had been put in charge of family reunification. Sure, Hermione had split her family up, not the war or imprisonment, but surely she’d still qualify for help. It was the least the Ministry could do for her after everything she’d gone through. When he went to the Ministry for his assessments he’d nip on down to Percy’s office.

Semblance of a plan in place, he loped down the stairs. In the living room the match between the Kestrels and Harpies was still playing over the radio.

George had nodded off in a corner of the sofa, while their mum sleepily knitted in her usual chair, looking a bit more herself. Ginny was seated on the other end of the sofa with Harry leaning against her legs. His friend looked thoroughly blissed as one of her hands went through his hair. She caught Ron’s eye and gave him a small smile that he returned. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes seeing his best friend look like that with his baby sister, but he didn’t have the heart when they looked so very calm and happy.

As pleasing as it was to see things had calmed down, none of them were the person he was looking for. Ginny caught his consternation and indicated her head towards the kitchen.

He spun and found Hermione putting some mugs on a tray. She turned to him and smiled. In a few strides he was behind her, putting his arms around her and kissing her temple. He reveled in the feeling of her relaxing into his chest and held her even tighter.

“Mmm I missed you,” she said in a languid voice. Visions of her damned lists for Australia flooded his mind.

“M’sorry I haven’t been here for you,” he mumbled into her hair.

“I must admit, listening to a Quidditch game on the wireless is not exactly my idea of fun,” she said with a small laugh.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?” she asked, turning around to look at him, her full lips just barely turning up in a mischievous smile. Her hair was mussed with the ends of her waves fraying in several errant directions, just like they had earlier behind the shed. Her questioning gaze pierced right through him, making him feel ten feet tall and as small as a gnome all at once. Merlin, she was the prettiest thing he’d ever beheld.

He leaned in to catch her lips, hand grazing her soft cheek, before leaning his forehead against hers.

“You’re being awfully sweet,” she whispered.

“You need some sweetness,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll get the tea, you go sit.”

“I was thinking of taking a nap, actually.”

“Yeah?” he asked, putting the kettle on the stove. “Would you mind some company?”

“I actually do want to nap, and not�� Not the activities we did earlier.”

“Activities?” he slowly repeated.

“Er… Behind the shed.” A wonderful blush tinged her cheeks, making his own neck start to heat up.

“Oh right!” His voice embarrassingly cracked a bit. He grabbed a tin of tea from the shelf, before looking across to Hermione. “Well— well, as much as I enjoyed those activities , I really could use a kip.”

“Wouldn’t your Mum mind?” She bit her lip, looking far too worried about something as silly as a nap next to her boyfriend.

“Honestly, given her reaction to catching us snogging the other day, I don’t think she’d much care, seeing as we’re only napping…” He squinted and scrutinised her, before giving a cheesy grin. “Unless you were planning something else?”

“No, we are definitely only napping!” she primly replied, her little nose scrunching up to glare at him.

He loved it when she scrunched her face like that. He’d keep poking her until she’d be warring between laughter and throwing up her hands in disgust. She could scowl and pout and even stomp her feet saying he’d crossed some indecorous line— but after years of teasing her, he had a good sense for where the actual lines were drawn for her. Honestly, it was a bit thrilling to walk those lines, waiting to see how she’d react.

“What was that line from that Shaker guy… The lady doth protest too much?” Ron asked.

“Don’t think Shakespeare will make me think you’re less disgusting!”

“Hey, I just want to nap. You’re the one who’s inferring all sorts of filthy things.”

“I’m not!”

“Who brought up our time behind the shed, and who brought up actually sleeping?” She rolled her eyes, but her flush deepened. His grin grew broader. “That’s what I get for dating an older woman.”

“Older woman?” she snorted.

“Older and wiser in the ways of the world. Trying to corrupt this poor youth,” he said, giving her a pat on the head. She gave what was supposed to be an intimidating glare, then landed a playful swat at his arm, looking around to see if anyone had heard.

“We’re only napping! Stop being such a troglodyte.”

“I dunno… Are you certain you can keep your hands off me?”

“Quite,” she muttered, though her mouth was twitching. “You’ll be lucky if I ever want to look at you again, you prat,”

“Good thing, that, cause I am absolutely knackered,” he said with a yawn that started feigned, but ended up rumbling through his ears and becoming quite genuine. “Couldn’t keep up with you and your endless seductions if I wanted.”

Her face was so flushed, he was surprised she hadn’t broken into a sweat. Instead she hid her face in her hands and let out something between a groan and a giggle. “Sto-oop!”

“Fine, I’ll stop.” He leaned down and kissed her hair. “But only because you’re cute when you blush.”

She smiled in earnest at his compliment. He liked how bashful she got whenever he did it. He needed to do it more.

“I guess we’ll meet in your room then?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you upstairs once I’m done serving this lot tea.”

He watched her go with a look that had to be besotted beyond anything, but he didn’t care. He was still shocked he got to kiss her every day. Not wanting Hermione to change her mind, he quickly got tea to the living room, finding Ginny was the only one left awake.

“Can you put a heat-preserving charm on the teas for when they wake up?” she whispered.

He silently fulfilled her request and headed up the stairs, muffling a laugh behind his hand. He’d remembered the heating charm for water! He didn’t mind the stairs knowing he had Hermione waiting in his bed, and took them two at a time.

He gave a knock and opened his door to find his orange room didn’t look the same as it had earlier.

“Looks nice in here,” he said, looking around the room.

There had been bits of mess in all the corners when he left, but she’d tidied them all and spelled some curtains over the windows, making the room feel a whole lot less like a rank teenage boy’s room and much more a cozy den for dozing. His bed had also been expanded by a few feet.

The best sight was her, though.

She was curled up in the corner of his bed, sleepily blinking at him, a little smile on her lips. He considered changing out of his jeans to be more comfortable, but maybe she’d been right about warning him from any activities. With her head on his pillow, hair enticingly falling around her shoulders, and her wrapped in his sheets… Yeah, it’d be best to keep the jeans on.

He slipped in beside her and felt a charge run through him as she snuggled up to his chest, her arm ribboning around his middle. The contented keenness he’d felt quickly faded as her breathing evened out and she quickly fell asleep.

Alone, and with nothing to distract him, his mind teemed with Australia, the Aurors, and about a million other things. He tried concentrating on the feel of Hermione in his arms, the whiff of vanilla lipgloss she always used, the cadence pattern of her breath. He closed his eyes.

Sleep gave him a giant middle finger as a feeling of dread settled in. Shit. He’d become such a fucking sad sack!

At one point in his life he had been able to silently sit with himself. He used to be able to lounge and happily daydream. He could allow his mind to blankly relax, and the only chatter would be that of Hermione’s, spilling over him like a warm bath.

Now his mind was overly full, and Hermione silently held him. She hadn’t excitedly gabbed about things in ages. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked so thin and fragile it made something deep in his chest ache.

If she could hear his thoughts she’d be berating him, claiming how very un-fragile she was. Until the past few weeks, he never would have dared to dispute it. She was tenacious and determined, using her brains and stubbornness to push herself beyond her comfort and limits all the time. Perhaps she’d pushed herself too many times. Maybe her body and mind had finally given out, like a Patronus when a herd of Dementors bore down on them.

His breath hitched as memories began to dredge up.

“You awake?” he whispered.

He felt her, rather than heard her, give a small irritated grunt that vibrated against his ribs.

“Right, sorry. You said you needed a nap…”

She nodded and squeezed him before going lax against him again. Minutes passed and he could tell she was asleep from her deep even breaths.

She was asleep. And everyone else too. No one was keeping watch.

If someone came to the house there would be no one there to stop them. They could push right in and blow the living room up without a second thought. Or a few well placed demolishing charm explosions could bring the whole place down if they wanted.

Mind rattling like a broom pushed too far and fast, a restlessness stole even the whispers of sleep from him. He tried to peer out the window without moving, but Hermione had done too thorough a job blocking out the windows.

He was being ridiculous. No one would wage an attack in the middle of the afternoon. Or would they try because it was less expected and there would be less people defending the house? Everyone knew his dad worked at the Ministry and could trail him easy enough, and there was still a long list of Death Eaters, political criminals, and even Snatchers on the run who all might want a piece of them. If he bailed now, then it only left Ginny awake. Did she even have a wand on her?

So many thoughts pressed against his skull that they barely felt his own. He knew what it was to share his mind with outside forces; to have thoughts not his own intruding, slithering between the cracks and widening them into chasms. He didn’t need a locket to do it now, though. Worry after worry rattled at him until he couldn’t lay still another moment. He had to check outside!

He did his best to gently extricate Hermione’s thin arm, despite his anxiousness, and opened the window covering enough to have a proper look out. Nothing. There was nothing.

Everyone was napping and able to find some semblance of peace, but there he was with a rattling brain. No one was awake, and there was no way to force himself to sleep at this point.

He felt ridiculously alone, despite having Hermione just feet away in his bed. He hadn’t felt nearly this alone in the tub, which made zero sense.

He went to the bed and gently pushed some of the curls away from Hermione’s face. Her brows creased with worry even in her sleep. He knew what he could do to ease her worries. He brushed a kiss against her forehead headed for the garden. Eventually either people would awaken or someone would arrive— either way he could leave after and solve one of Hermione problems. After only a few minutes there was a ‘pop!’ of apparition.

“Dad!” he called out. They exchanged security questions before Ron said, “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Well, even with things at the Ministry in such a mess, we need a bit of time off,” he replied, looking every bit as tired as Ron felt. “It helps that Kingsley knew I could use some sleep after last night. Were you able to get a kip in?”

“A bit.”

His father looked at him with concern, but said no more on it. “I didn’t expect George to come home so soon. How’s he been?”

“When he arrived I stopped him out here to make sure he was able to handle all of— of this...” he said gesturing to the house. “He thought I was saying he couldn’t ‘be happy enough’ or something… Got a bit shirty, so there’s that. ”

Ron went on to explain the outing George and everyone were planning for the evening.

“Do you think that’s wise, given what happened last night?”

“No, it’s daft, but everyone could use it. Even bIoody Harry looked pleased about it. Don’t worry, though. I can watch after George.”

“You don’t have to watch after your brother.”

“Well if I don’t then—”

“If he breaks his parole by apparating drunk again, that’s on him. Not you,” his father said with finality. “He’s a grown man and he shouldn’t have a child tending to him.”

“I’m not a child. I’m eighteen,” said Ron, drawing himself up, making sure his father could see how he had a fair few inches on him. “I need to go to the village.”

“Oh?” He waited for an explanation but Ron didn’t give one. “Get some bread and rashers while you’re there?”

Ron gave a grunt, but grabbed some muggle money from a tin on the shelf.

It was a familiar walk he had taken many a time before. He could remember running alongside his much older brothers as they went on errands for their mum, and other times sprinting on his own to find the secret little spot he’d found hidden in the village.

In a house so crowded it was rare to find a moment to oneself. He’d been elated to find his own place to hide that no one knew about. A little spot all his own! How clever he’d felt to have a hideout no one knew of. There was a giant stump that must have been one of those old world trees, it looked so massive. Sunbeams would freckle the bit of earth and willows with sunlight, and the nearby bakery made it smell like Mum’s kitchen.

The spot was abandoned and close to an apparition point. He could apparate there quite safely and save himself and his tired body the walk. It wouldn’t be like last time. It would surely be safe to apparate there now. He would not be surrounded. He would not taste blood in his mouth. He would… much rather walk.

As he walked he felt the warmth of the sun penetrating his skin, most likely bound to give him a sunburn. Stupid bloody ginger complexion. Despite his ambling pace he reached the village in a short time and saw a familiar pub. He’d called Hermione from it enough times to know the help there by face, but never by name.

Stepping in he saw the most familiar face glowering at him from behind the bar. Ron ducked his head a bit, seeing the annoyance and recognition on the man’s face.

“You come to yell into one of me phones again?” the broad man asked him.

Ron’s ears burned. That wasn’t very fair. He’d only screamed into the phone a few times. He’d learned since then and had done a pretty good job of volume control since. He was surprised he was recognized. He was over half a foot taller than he had been, and definitely wasn’t as scrawny.

“I came to see if you have any work I can help with, or know of one hearabouts,” he said rather stoutly.

“Just so happens we could use someone on the late shifts for a few pickup hours here or there. Bussing and washing dishes,” the barman said, crossing his arms as he looked Ron up and down. “You have any experience?”

“I can clean and know how to drive,” Ron ticked off. Ron had never driven a bus, but had enough experience washing dishes. Maybe not the Muggle way, or in a restaurant, but he could manage. “I live a ten minute walk away and I’ll work real hard.”

“What motivates yer then?”

“My girl,” he answered simply, though it made his neck burn.

The man rolled his eyes. “Jaysus— I meant what can I say to make you move your arse.”

“Oh! Well… Just tell me to and... and I will.”

The barman kept looking him up and down with a surly expression on his face.

“Well, I’ll think about it. I can call you later to give an answer.”

“But I don’t have a phone.”

“Not at all?” the barman asked, his heavy brows scrunching even further together. “Just buy one at the shop around the corner.”

“Well, we don’t have el- electricity at our place,” Ron tripped over his words. Electricity was one of those words so often said wrong in his house it was hard to remember the right term. “It’s just an old farm.”

Ron hoped it didn’t sound too off to the Muggle man. He was looking oddly at Ron, as if trying to work out a puzzle about him, but was no longer scowling.

“If you’re worried about giving me schedules or whatever, maybe you can put a note in the window with my hours?” Ron offered, filling up the silence, not comfortable under such direct scrutiny. “I can check it every morning and night to see if you need me.”

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” the barman sighed.

“I’d work hard, I promise!”

The man barked for someone to come out from the kitchen to cover the rather barren bar, and walked through a swinging door to the back, leaving Ron to awkwardly stand about, not knowing what to do with his hands.

“Well? You coming?” the barkeep growled.

“Oh! Yeah!” Ron said, following him. He wasn’t that familiar with Muggle customs, so perhaps it was a thing to just walk off like that? He followed him past some metal tables and a giant metal door to a small humid room.

“This is the dishwasher,” he said, pulling a lever to reveal scalding dishes and tons of steam. “Dishes and such get scraped and rinsed with the hose, put through this, then once dry you put 'em out for us to use. Easy enough?”

It was simple enough. His dad would be over the moon to inspect the shiny metal box and gadgetry. He was not looking forward to scraping plates if he were to be hired, but the Muggle didn’t have to know that he’d just be scourgifying stuff in the back half the time. It was private enough back there that he could do it without being seen.

“You got any rubber shoes?”

“Rubber?” asked Ron, perplexed.

“So you don’t scald your feet with hot water.” he said, pointing at Ron’s scuffed trainers that had definitely seen better days. They were a bit too tight and his toe almost popped out of one of them. His newer pair was buried on Dobby’s tiny body. “Well?”

“Oh! Er… I have some leather boots or wellies I could borrow.”

The man gave him the same studying look at Ron.

“That’ll do. You come in tomorrow at two tomorrow afternoon.”

Ron stopped short. “So… Does that mean—?”

“I’m not asking you to come use our phone, am I? This is a trial period only, but if you move your arse you get to stay and make decent wages.”

“Right!” he said nodding before smiling. He hadn’t realized the barkeep was the manager or whatever of the pub, and he most definitely hadn’t realized he’d just been hired. “Thank you so much!”

“We still need to fill out your paperwork. How old’re you?”

“Eighteen.”

“This your first job?”

“Does that matter?”

“Cagey, you are…” the barkeep said with a scrutinizing look. “But long as you’re on time I don’t much care.”

He was handed a form, which made it the seventeenth form of the day he had to fill out, but he couldn’t mind. He now had a way to make Hermione money for her trip! This plus the signing bonus from the Aurors should cover the costs. He started to fill it out with a pen, but quickly found they wanted all sorts of numbers and information he couldn’t give without thinking up a lie, or enchanting the paper to fool the Muggle manager. Making up his mind to finish it later, and find out what a National Insurance Number was, he took his form and left.

He found some of the restless tension he’d wrestled with since the wee hours of the morning had dissipated. He’d finally been able to do something right and took steps towards making a difference.

He turned the corner to grab some the groceries his father had requested when all the elation fled his body.

A fence had been torn down, because it normally wouldn’t be visible from the small lane. He could clearly see the stump he’d apparated to all those months ago. His childhood safe spot that had been desecrated. Part of him wanted to go explore it, but the other wanted to burn the little area to the ground. Instead he stood and stared at it, completely frozen.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there staring, but by the time he came to himself the form he’d been given by the pub manager was wrinkled to shit, his nails had driven themselves deep into his fisted hands enough to bleed a tiny bit, and a clock was chiming the the hour, when he’d sworn it was a good thirty minute til.

He turned around and returned home, wiping the blood on his jeans.

As he arrived home, he saw Bill and Charlie setting up tables and chairs outside.

“Ron!” cried Charlie, a rumble of chairs and benches walking into place across the lawn. “Order of Merlin? And the Aurors! Brilliant!”

“Yes, well done,” added Bill, giving Ron a nod and look of approval. At one point Ron would have preened at such attention from his eldest brothers, but he just felt raw and strange under their gazes.

“Not much of a surprise, though,” said Charlie, giving Ron a thump on the back that nearly sent him sprawling. “After all you did the last year or so, they were bound to want you.”

Ron tried to smile at them, though he knew it was more of a grimace.

“I’d better help Mum, if she’s cooking for everyone.”

“Don’t worry, Fleur’s got it,” said Charlie, heading inside to get more chairs.

“How’re you doing?” asked Bill. He had a discerning look on his face that Ron wanted nothing to do with.

“‘M fine,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s an ok day, though. You got awards and job offers. And George is back, of course.”

Ron gave a snort. “I guess.”

“Well you’ve been doing a lot around the house. Glad you’re going out tonight.”

Ron gave huff. “I’m not exactly looking forward to it.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t feel like it.” He couldn’t say how George would need babysitting, how Harry was one loud crash away from killing someone with a spell, how Hermione looked ready to keel over, how Ginny was almost crying all the time, or how he was so fucking tired. Bill was waiting for an explanation. “There’s just… There’s a lot going on.”

Bill gave a nod. “If you want to get away from things for a bit, maybe you could come to Shell Cottage for a visit.”

“I’m not running away to your place to escape my responsibilities anymore.”

“Ron, that’s not what happened.”

“Don’t tell me what happened!” Ron snapped. His fists clenched and he felt the raw crescent cuts in his palms sting.

“Fine then... Dad told me what all you’ve been up to, including George last night. It’s great you’re helping out everyone, but you can’t keep running yourself into the ground.”

“I’m not,” he replied with a forced calm, “I’m fine.”

Bill looked unconvinced.

“You look like shit. Maybe you should take a nap before going out.”

“Cheers,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes, pushing past Bill into the house.

As usual it was a crush of people inside. In the corner he saw Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson had joined their party as well, giving him even more cover.

No-one noticed another redhead amongst the lot and he was able to escape to the stairs without anyone the wiser. When he got to his room he found Harry, Ginny and Hermione convening, so he quickly stashed the form for the pub in his back pocket.

“Look who’s back,” said Ginny with a smile. Harry and Hermione both turned, Harry looking immensely relieved and Hermione looking worried.

“You alright?” Harry asked, as Hermione simultaneously asked, “Where were you?”

He stutteringly explained he’d gone to the village for some supplies, and though Harry and Ginny seemed to take this at face value, Hermione didn’t look convinced. She didn’t have time to question him, though, as they were all called to dinner.

“You don’t normally go to the village alone for supplies,” Hermione noted, as Harry and Ginny walked well ahead of them.

“Yeah, well, usually Mum's the one to get stuff, isn’t she?”

She looked inclined to push him on it, so as they took their seats Ron wedged himself between Ginny and his Mum, knowing both would be too distracted by others to bother with him.

He was happy to not speak to anyone and just listen to conversations.

“Well, Percy couldn’t come because of his work with family reunification at the DMT. His desk is just swamped with people looking for their families,” Mum was explaining to Fleur.

“Weren’t you playing Quidditch for the Bats?” Charlie asked Angelina.

“The Tornadoes, but you need peripheral vision and mine’s a bit shit on the right side since the war.”

Down the table Lee sat with George, whose smile almost looked genuine. Lee’s hair was a bit lopsided where he’d had to shave it off. Part of it had burnt off, and he had a wicked burn scar down the back of his neck.

Ron couldn’t help thinking how there were so many ways a person can lose things in a war: careers, body parts, dignity, friends, a brother.

“Hey, everyone, a toast!” George suddenly burst out. Ron winced, but everyone else seemed happy to raise their glasses. “To The Tallest of Little Brothers and his fine sandwich making skills, the Brain who set out the flatware so nicely for this meal, and The Boy-Who-Kicked-Arse at playing chess against Charlie, who sucks balls.”

Everyone laughed and said cheers, with two exceptions. The first was Mum, who was chastising George for his language and ‘not saying a word about what they’d actually accomplished,’ though she had a bit of a smile on her face she was trying to hide.

The second was Ron, who wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel like celebrating anything again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks so much for reading and all the support, lovlies! :D If you like this, please leave a comment! :D They mean so much to me and motivate me so much as well.

Sorry it's been a while between updates. In a very intense grad school program :P

KEEP SAFE! KEEP IT MAGICAL! :) -Hill

60 notes · View notes

what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Not a Piece of Art

Part 2/5 - The Dinner Party

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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

Summary: You’re invited to the targets house for dinner, will they see through your act? Or can you keep your hatred hidden for long enough to get the information you need?

Authors note: Thank you for all the lovely comments and likes and reblogs💕❤️! I’ve been feeling kinda bleh recently so I apologize for it taking so long and I’m also sorry if it’s crap but I’m pretty happy with the story line (also there’s gonna be a follow up to this series for sure). Anyways hope y’all are keeping well and thank you for reading!!

Warnings: THIS STORY WILL BE 18+ starting next chapter (minors DNI) . For now it’s just swearing and allusions to abusive relationships

Word count: 5.7k

Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial

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

You watch the moving trucks hired by the DEA to facilitate your luxurious, but imaginary lifestyle roll up the driveway one after the other. Each truck opened to reveal piece after piece of expensive furniture better suited to the silver screen than your real life adding to the dysphoria you'd been feeling over the past few days. You were now living and enjoying someone else's life, a fact that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Though the anxiety you were feeling was likely due to the very real threat of being murdered, and not the lavish home decor you were now in possession of. If there was one thing to be thankful for it was your close proximity to the water, you’d been landlocked for too long. Peace washes over you as you watch the water break against the cliff face. You turn towards the target's house gazing up to the balcony on the third floor. The doors are swung open and a woman in white stands with her arms outstretched on the railing, standing like a queen overseeing her kingdom. You were being watched. You lift your hand up to block out the sun, hoping to get a better look at her, but she's gone by the time you do.

Noticing the overwhelmed look plastered on your face as the trucks arrived Javier decided he would take on directing the movers. Only calling for your help when furniture needed to be placed, as interior design was admittedly not in his wheelhouse.

“You know where that goes?” Javi asks the movers, lighting up a cigarette and placing it between his lips. The movers nod as they lug the enormous mattress inside. He turns scanning the landscape to locate your whereabouts, you'd been all over the place this morning. Whether you were playing into the spacey artist trope or the pressure was finally getting to you he wasn’t really sure. Either way he wanted to make this transition as easy as possible for you, and considering you weren't a field agent it was also his responsibility to keep you safe. He spots you near the walkway that leads down to the ocean, a gentle breeze blows in from the beachfront causing the linen dress wrapped around you to part just above your thigh. There's a relaxed smile etched on your face, resulting in a calm that Javi had never witnessed emanating from you before.

An arm snakes around your waist and you lean into it for a moment before remembering who it belonged to causing your body to instinctively retract. You push back off his chest and watch as Peña shakes his head in quiet frustration before turning back towards the moving trucks. You chew your lip, you knew you had to do better at acting the part you’d been ordered to play. If you didn’t this mission would be over before it even started. Memorizing your alias was easy enough as was adopting the british accent, but acting in love with Peña. That was where it all fell apart, but if there was one thing you knew for sure it was that you did your best work under pressure. You swallow hard as the last few trucks slip away down the driveway. The notion of being left alone with Peña for the first time was an anxiety not even the ocean could sooth. With a deep breath you will your legs to move towards your new home which is currently looking more like a cell. You walk by Peña who snuffs out his cigarette in the dirt before following you inside.

“Why would two people ever need a house this big?” he asks, closing the door behind you, his voice bouncing off the marble walls.

“So they never have to see each other.” you offer, running your hand along the granite countertops.

“That felt targeted,” he says, watching your hands movement intently.

“It wasn’t, at least not intentionally. You notice how this whole back wall is glass? Weird design choice” you remark, trying to open up a civil dialogue with him.

“Probably built it so they can keep tabs on the neighbours” he offers coming up behind you, standing a little too close for comfort.

“Why build a house across from yours if you're trying to be undetected?” you ask, turning around nearly colliding with his chest, huffing at the inconvenience before maneuvering around him.

“If you were a federal agent and a big empty house was available for a stake out would you take it or would you go for the rocky beach or bug infested forest? Keep your enemies close, they expect the feds to show up here, so they make it easy to monitor” he explains, in a surprisingly uncondescending way.

“Hadn’t thought about that” you admit.

“Don’t teach you everything in those fancy buildings with ivory towers” he chuckles, as he sits down on one of the couches.

“Never claimed that they did” you retort “did they bring any food in?” you ask, moving towards the fridge.

“Not sure, figured the kitchen was your domain, can you bring me a beer” Javi says, the subtle misogyny fueling the rage simmering inside you.

“I’m sorry what exactly did your last servant die of?” You snap back.

“What? We’re supposed to keep up appearances” he responds calmly from the couch, feet crossed on the coffee table that cost more than your yearly rent.

“And what exactly is my appearance supposed to be? The domesticated housewife who brings you beer, cooks you dinner and sucks you off?” you respond, rage finally boiling over.

“Well I hadn't asked for that last one yet but...”

“Unbelievable! You can cook for yourself Peña. I'm not your wife and im definitely not your fucking mother”

“You certainly nag like her. Seriously a beer, it's not asking much” he demands.

“You know...” you say opening the fridge and pulling out a beer walking it over to him “I don't know if you’ve heard...” you continue, nudging his feet off the table with your calves as you place the beer down “of these amazing things...” you say, kneeling down, parting his legs and rising up between them, making eyes at him as you slowly run your hands up his thighs. “Called legs!” you state slapping your palms down on his thighs smiling as the growing smirk on his face quickly disappears “You should try using them sometime” you finish standing back up, grabbing the beer from the table and heading back into the kitchen to cook yourself, and only yourself, dinner. You'd managed to stay out of each other's hair for the rest of the evening, but another blowout ensued when it came to figuring out your sleeping situation.

“C'mon you don't have to be such a...” Javi exclaims calmly

“Such a what Peña?” you ask watching him bite his tongue “No please finish that sentence. I’d love to hear what thought provoking and truly innovative ideas you have about me.” You retort

“Just get in the bed” he pleads, lifting up the sheets and motioning his hand towards it.

“With you? I'd rather be shot” you state.

“Keep acting like this and your wish may just get granted sweetheart” he says through gritted teeth, the petulant show you were putting on wearing thin.

“Newsflash Peña! They can’t see us in here, so I think I'll take my chances on the couch” you assumed it was far enough away from the windows to keep you from prying eyes.

“Your fucking funeral” he shouts down the hall, watching you storm off with an armful of sleepwear you'd brought from home. The sleepwear was not flattering nor did it fit into the rich aesthetic you were currently upholding, but at this point, you didn't care. You'd chosen the oversized band shirt and basketball shorts because they hid your body away from prying eyes. Not that Peña would be looking, you hardly qualified as his type. You flop down on the couch rolling your eyes at the beer bottles he’d left there, likely for you to clean up. Irritated you fall asleep, cursing the couch for being inexplicably the most uncomfortable thing you'd ever had the misfortune of sitting on.

Your woken as the doorbell sounds throughout the house startling you so badly that you fall off the couch with a loud thud. “Shit!” you curse realizing it was likely the target. As quick as you can, you strip off your pyjamas and throw on the robe you had snatched in a hurry last night, only just realizing it was practically sheer. You yawn as you open the door to a beautiful woman who you immediately recognize as the target's wife, Helena. Presumably the same woman who you had seen on the balcony yesterday. She looked every bit a billionaire's wife with her hair neatly styled, 6 inch heels and perfect makeup while you, well you currently looked, and smelt, like you’d slept in a sewer.

“Hi im Helena, we saw you move in yesterday, we live next door.”

“We?” you ask squinting into the early morning light as another yawn escapes your lips

“Me and my husband” She says looking past you towards the couch where you had slept. Shit. Peña was not going to let you live that one down. Speaking of the devil, he appears from the bedroom in an open robe, and very thin linen pants, a look that made you realize why so many women were easily charmed by him.

“Cara mia, who's at the door?” he asks, eyes darting to the obviously slept in couch before settling on the beautiful woman standing before him. A woman who'd have his full attention if it wasn't for the transparent robe clumsily wrapped around your body.

“Our new neighbor” you say, refraining from using a cutesy nickname afraid you'd choke on it.

“Forgive my wife, she hasn’t been sleeping well” he says, coming over and wrapping himself around you, kissing the top of your head, before resting his chin on it.

“I find I sleep best when next to my husband” she responds offering Javi a megawatt smile which he returns.

“Maybe if your husband doesn't snore like an elephant” you respond sleepily with a soft laugh. You were surprised how well the british accent rolled off your tongue despite the early hour.

“Mine does as well, shakes the whole house! The things we put up with when we are truly in love are amazing” shes says, reigniting your anxiety “We want you to come for dinner, we've hired a chef” she continues.

“We’d love to, always good to know the neighbours, we like to make sure we're keeping good company” Javi reponds.

“Excellent, lets say, 7:30, be on time, my husband doesn't like to be kept waiting.” The second the door shuts you wiggle out from his grasp and make your way over to the kitchen pouring yourself, and only yourself, some coffee, still tired from the piss poor sleep you'd gotten last night. At least this time it wasn’t because you had to listen to someone having rigourous sex through the walls.

Javier follows close behind snatching the cup from your hands and taking a sip, knowing full well it wasn’t meant for him. He watches your eyes bulge slightly and your jaw tightens before you storm off into the bedroom to change out of the see through robe, much to his dismay.

“We need to go over the plan for tonight,” he says from the kitchen.

“Alright what is it?” you ask emerging in one of the many luxurious outfits provided to you.

“We’ll scout it out, find the room where they keep the paintings nd take the samples you need.”

“Ya” you say “and how exactly am I supposed to sneak in test tubes filled with liquid that traces drugs. ” you ask

“Bring a purse? I don't know. You're the genius you figure it out” he shrugs.

“I could wear a long skirt and strap them to my legs?”

“No they'll know you're hiding something,” he says, shooting down your idea.

“Purse it is then” you respond. “If they come back positive then what?”

“We can figure that out later, but i'll drop hints that the money I've made has been done in less than legal ways, and mention your outstanding knack for counterfeiting. Oh and wear something short tonight” he says “More to see means less to hide” he offers when he sees you glaring at him. “ and no scowling at me while we're in there, unless you really want to blow it” he laughs, your hatred for him almost comical at this point.

“What am I supposed to do when you're being insufferable then” you dig, with a wide fake smile.

“Save them up for later, besides it won't be me in there with you, it'll be my character, who you don’t hate.”

7:00pm

You change into a burgundy dress with an open back that falls well above your mid thigh, its length hardly covering you. You make a note not to bend over throughout the night, as you sling on the high heels that cost more than all your shoes combined. You grab the swabs and plastic bags needed to keep them sterile and stuff them into your purse before slipping on your wedding ring, and exiting into the kitchen.

“Alright, how do I look?” you ask, reopening the purse and re organizing the material inside it. When you finally look up you’re taken aback. Peña's usual attire of tight jeans and button up t shirt’s had been replaced by a stunning velvet pastel coloured jacket worn over top, a partially unbuttoned silk dress shirt and black dress pants. He cleaned up well, very well.

Your prolonged look doesn't go unnoticed by Javi, nor does the way your eyes quickly dart back down to your purse when he meets your gaze. He refrains from making a snarky comment knowing it would only piss you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do before infiltrating a highly dangerous situation.

“Perfect, hermosa” he says, he wasn’t lying about it either. He knew you weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but god if you didn't look perfect tonight. Pretending to be in love with you would be easy enough for him, he hoped you’d be able to maintain the act as well. He watches as you move gracefully around him in heels that were working exceptionally well at emphasizing your... assets. He averts his eyes when you reach up for a bottle of wine knowing that more than you’d want him to see would be out.

“You know I can speak Spanish, right?” you say, a small smile creeping on your lips before quickly disappearing back into the cold facade you were determined to keep up against him.

“Well, I do now” he laughs, slightly embarrassed he got caught out complimenting you sincerely. He slides on his wedding band and escorts you out the door.

“God how do people walk in these for more than 15 mintues” you mutter, your feet already killing you. You almost regretted pushing Peñas arm away when he’d offered it to you earlier. Approaching the house you feel his hand wrap around your waist and you lean into him in an attempt to take some pressure off your feet. He rings the doorbell, lowering his hand as he hears the heels approaching from down the hall. Lifting up the hem of your dress he begins rubbing small circles over your thigh with his thumb. Any other time and you'd have broken his hand without a second though, but it fell well within the contract you’d had him sign detailing exactly where and when he was allowed to touch you.

“Welcome” Helena says as she opens the door in an equally revealing dress. She leads you through the enormous entrance way and into the main foyer, gazing up you see balconies on each level overlooking the large ballroom area. Your amazement at the house was cut short as you turned to see Peña who was currently only paying attention to Helena's fine architecture. If your eye rolls wouldn't give your true feeling for eachother away, his ogling certainly might. You elbow him harshly in ribs causing his hand to inadvertently dig deeper into your skin. His grip releases as Helena's husband enters into the room grabbing her and kissing her deeply for just long enough that both you and Javier feel uncomfortable.

“Welcome” he booms after separating from Helena, grasping Javis hand in his. You can see the veins in his arm bulge, as he clamps down on Peñas hand in a bizarre play for dominance.

“Here” you say offering him the wine, causing him to release his grip “Your home is as stunning as your wife” you smile as he looks down at the bottle reading its label.

“This one’s from a good year! Neither of our wives were even born then, lucky for us” he laughs, winking at you “We’ll have it with dinner.” he continues, pulling Javi into his side and walking him towards the bar.

Helena smiles at you and raises her eyebrows, rolling her eyes at her husband's behaviour. “Come now, alcohol will get us through the night” she states, leading you down the hallway. You knew her suspicions were high, and it wasn't lost on you that she’d likely shared her feelings with her husband, but she was being remarkably kind, which only added to your concern.

“Drink? What’s your poison, Carino?” Carlos demands of you. He was larger than life in both stature and personality, charming but in a terrifying way.

“I do believe he's talking to you love” you joke, smiling up at Javi earning a laugh from Helena.

“Whiskey, neat.” he says, you couldn't tell if Carlos was amused or upset by your disobedience, but the way Peña was currently pulling you discreetly out of Carlos’ reach made you think it was the latter.

“I usually don't ask twice, but for someone so beautiful and so clever, I'll make the exception. Though just his once” Javis grip around you relaxes and you flash Carlos a smile.

“Gin and tonic, if you don't mind”

“Any preference” he asks.

“Dealers choice”, you say, offering him back the control which seems to cut the tension and it's not long before he’s once again laughing with Javi.

“We're glad to have neighbours again '' Carlos says “especially ones who seem so agreeable.” His approval doesn’t relax you. Approval wasn’t trust and you’re well aware that this was just as much an interrogation as it was a dinner party. Carlos takes a seat in one of the upholstered armchairs gesturing for Javi to join him. Helena nods her head towards the couch and you follow her lead. Your eyes are quickly pulled off her when Peña yanks you down onto his lap.

“Darling!” you exclaim thanking the lord you didn't use his real name by mistake. “I could have spilled this very expensive drink all over this very expensive chair, I'm so sorry! I'd say he's not usually like this but...”

“I understand his need to have a beautiful woman in his arms as often as possible, it's why I'm on my fourth wife!” he boasts.

“I'm hoping i'll stick.” Helenea says, holding her drink up as she gazes lovingly over to Carlos, though something behind her eyes told another story. Perhaps you weren't the only one harbouring a secret hatred. “I'm hoping you’ll both stick as well. Neighbours can be problematic, nosy even, our last ones were before they...moved” Helena says from the couch

“Hard to imagine someone tiring from living in the house. It's beautiful, did you build it?” you ask

“Paid for it, but Helena designed it the whole thing, she's very gifted.” Carlos brags.

“I'd have to agree with that,” Javi says, smiling at her which she returns, a flirtation playing on both their faces. Javis hands may be on you but his eyes were on her and if you were picking up on it Carlos certainly had as well. You jump slightly when the server enters the room to inform the group that dinner was ready.

Javi pulls out a chair for you and you sit down placing your hand on his as he takes his seat next to you. The meal was the best you ever had, five delicious courses each one more decadent than the last.

“You don’t take her out to many five star restaurants? It seems as if she's never eaten such a meal!” Carlos excalims. Evidently you were doing a piss poor job at hiding your delight.

“I'm still getting used to the lifestyle if i’m honest. Though I imagine a meal such as this is still rare, even at the most expensive restaurants” you say before Javi can respond for you, the recovery impressing him slightly.

“You should have seen what she was eating before I met her, back when she was a starving artist” Javi says, as you bring a hand up to rub along the velvet jacket covering his broad shoulders.

“The billionaire and the starving artist, now I must know. How did you come to find each other?” Helena asks.

“My art dealer went to New York and brought back one of her paintings, it came with a photo and after seeing it I knew I had to have her, if she’d take me”

“And how did an old man like him convince a sweet young thing like you to marry him?” Carlos asks.

“No convincing needed, not when he sent thousands of my favourite flowers to my studio before showing up at the door himself. Any man willing to put that much time and money towards meeting me deserves a date. At least in my books and he’s continued to prove himself to me ever since.” You gaze up at him lovingly, so convincing that for a moment even he forgets you hate his guts.

“What are they? Her favorite flowers?” Helena probes, earning a grunt from Carlos presumably displeased with his wifes intrusiveness.

“Sunflowers. They're hard to find in New York, especially in the winter, I had to ship them from California.” Your gaze of faux adoration turns quickly to genuine surprise. How had he known what your favourite flowers were? It wasn't outlined in your character profile and you'd certainly never told him.

“I’ve seen the piece, its beautiful, your wifes very talented,”

“You should see her school portfolio, copies of works that were almost exact replicas of the originals. She possesses the talent of a hundred artists before her”

“You flatter me. Copying is a technique used to learn, but it's no measure of true artistry or creativity” you laugh. “When did you see my work, were you in New York?”

“Oh no I'm an art dealer myself, but I have people go to places for me. Your work was passed over my desk a few weeks ago.” Carlos explains.

“Perhaps I could paint you something then I would finally have a truly unbiased critic” You watch as Carlos slowly nods his head, contemplating your offer.

‘You’ll have to see our art collection, we have pieces here from all over the world” Helena says,

“How long have you been in the business?’ you ask, taking Carlos as a man who liked to show off

“longer than you've been alive” he says winking at you.

“Well I can only imagine what pieces you must have , you've proven to have exquisite taste, in all areas of life.” you smile eyes briefly darting to Helena.

“Helena show her the gallery would you, I wish to speak with my friend here in private”

“Will you be joining us later?” Helena asks, causing him to grunts out a yes before pulling Javi into another room to talk about god knows what. She leads you up to the second floor, each step you take causing a sharp pain to shoot down your foot’s arch.

“You get used to the heels, small price to pay for the lifestyle. Walking around in them in the house for a while helps.” she explains.

“Thank you” you say. “Somedays I dont think I'll ever really acclimatize to the lifestyle.” She leads you into a large room, greek style pillars run through the middle while art from around the world lines the walls. If the pieces were real this room was worth millions.

“How does your family feel about you living here? It must be hard them being so far away in England”

“I uhm...I... don’t have any.” You can feel her eyes boring into you assessing the answer you just gave her. “They passed, when I was 19” you continue turning to meet her gaze.

“I'm so sorry. To lose them so young must have been devastating, but I don't need to tell you that, do I” she says, shaking her head. You nod swallowing hard gazing back to the paintings. “Lucky he found you I suppose, and such a handsome man at that. Many billionaires are.... not.”

“Lucky for us both then” you say, moving along the wall “these painting are beautiful, I envy you being surrounded by such formidable pieces, and only a walk away”

“Yes'' she says, as if she doesn't care. She's watching you intently, trying to suss out where your loyalties lied, your lack of descriptive fondness for your husband suddenly seemed like a poor choice on your part. Before she can ask another question you hear Carlos yell out for her, the noise startling you both, so much so that her hand clamps down on your wrist.

“Duty calls” she says, composing herself and relaxing her grip on you.

“Should I come with you?” you ask, playing into the deer in headlights trope which seemed to have an effect on Helena.

“No, he asked for just me. I don't like to disobey him, he's not a kind man when not listened to.”

“Are you safe here” you ask.

“As long as I don’t cause trouble I should be.” she affirms.

“Well, you're welcome at ours, at any time. If anything happens, even if it doesn't you can stay with us. Heavens knows we have the room.” you say sincerely, the concern coming from you, not your character. Helana nods offering you a soft smile squeezing your hand before leaving the room.

“See how obedient she is, how compliant, she's perfect, don’t you think!” Carlos says

“Hard to argue with that,” Javi responds, giving her a once over.

“And beautiful yes, c'mon you are married not dead” he prompts when Javi doesn't respond immediately

“Very much so” he says, smiling at Helena before turning to Carlos who was intent on showing off his wife in the most demeaning way possible.

“Was there something you needed love?” Helena asked. She was used to her husbands showing her off to other men, but she was growing tired of it. She was involved in her husband's work, primarily in the organization making sure everything ran smoothly, she knew if it didn't she would inevitably be to blame. She valued her life, so she learnt fast, adapted like a pro. Four years later and her husband hadn’t offed her yet. She was a mastermind in a career she had been inadvertently forced into, but a mastermind nonetheless. To her husband she was nothing more than a trophy, but better to be that than a punching bag.

“A word in private” he says, gesturing to her with a come hither motion.

“Your wifes in the art room, up the stair, down the hall to the left, take the drink with you, we won't be a moment” He says, his eyes telling Javi to vacate the room. He lets out a grumble as he closes the door behind him. He shakes his head, swirling the whiskey as he walks towards the gallery. He’d fumbled tonight by not making it clear that he only had eyes for his wife, a hard task considering Helena, who he realized too late was likely meant to see if his gaze could be easily swayed. Which it had. All thoughts about any other woman cease to exist when he walks into the gallery and sees you bent over swabbing a painting. Something about watching you in your element had always been mesmerizing to him. It’s why he was always dropping off files for you, the task could easily be outsourced, but he enjoyed watching you maneuver with ease around the various machines.

“You should be more careful querida,” he says, chuckling as you jump back.

“Watch the door, would you? I've got two more to do” he leans back against the frame, one eye on the door, one eye on you watching as you meticulously swab the remaining paintings. “All good, you don’t think they keep cameras in here?” you ask, closing up your purse.

“No. Cameras are easy to hack.” he says nonchalantly, as he comes over to you stopping at your side looking up at the painting, suddenly understanding people's fascination with art. You grab the drink from his hand and take a sip placing it back down on the empty pedestal propping yourself up along with it when you hear footsteps approaching.

“Come here” you demand, and he does, eyes suddenly darker than before. He stops a few inches in front of you. “Closer” you beckon, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him into you. You drape your arms around his shoulder extending your neck allowing his mouth to graze lightly over the skin just in time for Helena and Carlos to witness it. You push him off you in pretend shock.

“Please, don’t stop on our account” Carlos laughs

“I'm sorry, god these pieces must be worth thousands and here I am sitting on one” you say hoping the act wasn’t too transparent.

“Don’t apologize, a work of art belongs on a pedestal” Carlos says, the complementing causing Javis jaw to noticeably clench. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for, maybe they would buy this relationship after all.

“We should probably be going, once she starts it's hard to get her to stop,” Javi says.

“So that’s how she trapped you” the husband responds, the entire exchange causing you to cringe internally. You hop down off the stool as Javi finishes the whiskey offering the glass to Helena who takes it before leading you towards the front door.

“We must do this again soon,” she says settling into Carlos’ arm

“Perhaps at ours next time?” You offer

“A generous offer, but we prefer to entertain.” He says

“Then I look forward to seeing you soon, especially if another meal like that is in store” As you exit the mansion Javi makes sure his hand is visibly running over your body, but you slap it away the second you can.

“Ouch” he says, shaking out the hand, the rings on your fingers leaving a particular sting on his skin.

“Suck it up” you respond, having had enough of him for the night.

“Cut the shit, your attitude problem is going to get us killed” he whispers through gritted teeth.

“I don’t have an attitude problem. I just have a problem with you” You say, turning to face him and prodding a finger into his chest “ and don’t act like you ogling his wife was helping our case either. Ya I slipped up tonight, but so did you, so shoulder some of the blame you’re throwing my way.”

“Jealousy’s a nice colour on you” he laughs, knowing how riled up it would get you.

“Ha!” you fake laugh “ because it's jealousy and not the fact that your inability to keep it in your pants is going to get me killed.” You exclaim as you enter the kitchen grabbing down a glass and chugging some water before going into the art room where you were storing the testing kits.

You? Jealous? Of what exactly. What did he think he had to offer that would make you want or need to be the subject of his attention. Attention he gave to anything that walked or batted its eyelashes at him. Jesus he was insufferable, you hated that he had this notion that your anger was based on jealousy and not multiple interactions where he'd failed to impress you. Even if you had come off as jealous it was all a part of the act. He had been acting jealous throughout the night, did he think you weren't competent enough to do the same? You had three degrees for fucks sake, you deserve some credit. “Fucking asshole” you mutter, the manifestation of the words helping you to calm down enough to dip the q tips in the liquid, sure enough, they came back positive the paintings had been near drugs, you’d tell Peña about that later. You see the light on in the bedroom as you exit the “art room” and you head towards it determined to get one last punch in before going to bed.

Javier had just settled into the enormous bed he had the luxury of having all to himself, moments away from flicking the light switch when he notices your figure in the door frame.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks

“I think he's abusive, the husband you were getting along with so nicely” you spit out, the venom intended to question his character in a hurtful way, but it doesn't seem to phase him.

“It's the job to get friendly with the monsters, doesn't mean I like them” he reasons

“I told her she could come here if anything happened, so we’ll have to hide this stuff a bit better” you remark, turning your failed attempt to get one last dig in, into a valid reason for starting up a conversation.

“Guess you'll have to stop sleeping on the couch then” he smirks. Check mate. Your eyes bore into the bed you had just talked yourself into sharing with Javier Peña.

#javi x y/n #javier pena x reader #javi x you #javi x reader #javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #narcos fanfic #narcos #enemies to lovers

50 notes · View notes

idunnoficsorsumthing · 4 years ago

Text

Yule ball dates

The virgin thing is from my best friend who thought I liked to call him virgin while we were talking about virgin cocktails. Like I would say Pina Colada virgin, and he thought I meant regular pina colada and just called him a virgin....

George Weasley x Reader

"Can you help me with my homework?" George asked after Potions class. You roll your eyes. If there was something you didn't want to do was spend more time with a Weasley. The only tolerable ones were the younger ones. Then to be fair you had never met the older ones, only Percy the annoying head boy and the twins. "What do I get for it?" You ask. You saw him think for a moment before a grin appeared on his face. "A kiss?" He suggested. You laugh at him. "What then some love potion, virgin?" He asked. You glare at him for using that word. He always teased you with that, why he did that was something else but it caught on. "I want some daydream charms." You answer. George nods. "If you want to relive your wet dream about me you can just ask me." He said, winking at you then walking away. You wanted to yell after him that you never dreamed about him. But, that was untruthful.

You couldn't find George later that day, so you figured he wasn't interested or he would come to you at the end of the day. You saw Fred though, because he was your study partner in ancient runes. It took you a lot of protest. But, eventually you gave up. "I need you to do something for me." Fred said, you frown at him. "No" you said, he looked at you suspiciously. "I haven't told you what it is!" He said, you shake your head. "I don't trust you." you tell him. He shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean by that.” he said, he was a little snarky. “Can you just do it?” he asks. He looked at you with a begging look. “What?” you ask. Opening the folder, there were pictures of girls. “The Yule Ball is coming up, and I want to find a date for George because I want to go with Angelina. We were going to do this stag thing but then she asked me.” Fred said: “So I want you to ask him.” you shake your head. “Why not? He is charming isn’t he?” you weren’t going to answer that. You have been thinking more about George lately. “I would need a freaking love potion bomb to want that.” you lie. “Fine, can you help me get a girl to ask him?” he asked. You roll your eyes. But, you kinda wanted to. It would be fun. “I could always give a girl love potion…” He said, he knew you were against the use of love potions, far too dangerous. What if something happened between George and said girl under the influence of love potion. George could have a rape lawsuit in his hands. You nod. “Fine, I’ll help.” you agreed.

You were sitting in the great hall with your headphones on, and the music probably a little too loud. You prided yourself on being a half-blood because it meant you weren’t completely oblivious to any form of technology when you entered Hogwarts. Suddenly a large projectile hit your shoulder, and you shrieked, earning the looks from everyone around you. George sat down next to you. You take off your headphones. “Calm down, virgin.” He said, he put his books in front of him. “You scared the hell out of me!” you tell him off. He shrugs. He put in front of you the jar of dream charms. “What is that anyhow?” he asked. Taking the headphones from you. He put them on top of his head. “Oh yeah, they rock.” he said, he kept on the headphones while your favorite band continued playing. “You know them?” you ask. “Yeah, Fred and I went to see them last summer.” he said, the corners of your mouth turned upwards into a smile. He liked them? Maybe the two of you weren’t so different.

The yule ball was only a month away, and you needed to find someone who was stupid enough to take George. Hannah? or maybe Cecilia? This was going to be a harder task than you thought. “Pippa!” you said, you ran to catch up with her, she was walking down the great hall. She was a Ravenclaw in fifth year. “Do you have a Yule Ball date yet?” you ask. She hesitated telling you. “Yes.” she answered. You sign disappointed. “Who?” you ask. “Cormac.” she answered. “Really him?” you ask “Wouldn’t you rather go with George Weasley?” you hoped she would answer yes. “Not really” she said: “I thought he had a girlfriend.” you raise an eyebrow. “Who?” you ask. “Some girl from gryffindor.” she said, you were taken back by surprise. You had been helping George with his homework just about every night this week, and he hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend.

You sat in the common room, silently working on homework. “George, do you have a date for the yule ball?” you ask. He looked up from his work. “No” he said: “Unless you want to go.” you shrug. “You should ask Christelle from Beauxbaton.” you suggested. His expression changed. “Do you, virgin?” he asked, you looked at him a second. “No, I am flying solo.” you said, and you hated the way you said. He nods, he didn’t say much after that for the rest of the evening. He did ask you to the three broomsticks Saturday with him and Fred.

It was freezing cold walking towards the three broomsticks, a thick layer of snow covered the entire path, and a cold breeze was in the air. No matter how warm you dressed it was no use. George was walking ahead with Lee, while you walked with Fred. “Soo?” he asked. “Don’t you feel guilty for trying to ditch your brother?” you ask. He shrugs. “Not really, virgin” he answered. You look at Fred, and laugh a little. “I hope he asked Christelle.” you said, Fred looked impressed. “A french girl, nice.” he said, you shake your head while laughing. You actually liked to hang out with the twins, as you found out that midday, they actually had a lot in common with you. Like, the movies that you liked, and the music. They knew all the classics. You gave them some legal advice for their pranks because using first years for their pranks was bound to get them expelled.

The three of you were walking back to Hogwarts, as you misstep, and you slip on a half melted patch of snow. If George didn’t hold onto your arm, he stopped, to pull you up, and you were grateful he did because otherwise you had to walk back to the castle soaking wet. You look in George’s brown eyes, and something changed. Fucking hell. “I feel like we are going to kiss now.” George said, you try to steady your breathing a little. This could not be happening, he moved his hand to your back, placing it in the small of your back. You hoped he couldn’t see that you were embarrassed. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. You quickly step away from him.

Yule Ball

You had been avoiding George the whole week, after you definitely knew you had feelings for him, you knew you shouldn’t be hanging out with him. Especially now he officially asked Christelle. You did see Fred around, after Saturday he invited you to sit with him most of the classes he didn’t take with George. Which were only two, but still you really liked hanging out with Fred, and it gave you a great excuse to ask about George, apparently he had taken out Christelle on a date. You felt disappointed even though you knew that wasn't fair, you figuratively pushed him in her arms. You walk down the steps that go to the hall. You hoped your choice of clothing was nice enough for this event.You noticed Fred already snogging Angelina by the flower arcs, and Harry and Ron were sitting by a table. You might have to join those two. George was sitting at a table with Christelle, and she looked absolutely stunning. You sit with Harry and Ron. “Don’t you have a date?” Parvati asked. You shrug. “I made a mistake.” you said, Harry gave you a sympathetic look, and Padma gave you a look that said ‘you and me both. '

After a while, the twins left and it was just Harry, and Ron. Though it was fun because you taught the boys finger football with a piece of folded up piece of paper. “I think I am calling it a night.” You said, getting up. You walked towards the stairs, and you were sad that all you did was sit, and didn’t get to dance. “For fuck’s sake” You said, George was sitting all cute with Christelle on the staircase, he was showing her how the walkman you have given him worked. Anger boiled inside you, you wanted nothing more than to yell at George for being an inconsiderate asshole. Christelle who had the headphones on didn’t even look up, but George did. You quickly turn around and walk away.

You were sitting in the top of the gryffindor tower, the part where no one came, you didn’t even bother going to your room to change your clothes. A knock was on the door, and George’s familiar head popped in. “Here you are.” he said, he had loosened his tie. He stepped in the room. “What are you doing here?” you asked. He shrugged. “What was that about?” he asked. You cross your arms. “I just- I thought- nothing I am being stupid.” you tell him, and you genuinely thought that was true. “I thought you wanted me to like Christelle?” he said, you nod. “But, now you don’t, why?” he asked. He stepped close to you, he was less than half a meter away. You decided not to answer him, he stepped another step closer, now his chest was touching your arms, that you still had crossed over your chest. “Maybe because you like me, virgin?” he asked. He took your hands, and uncrossed them. Holding onto your hands, compared to yours, his were big. “Fine, I like you, I didn’t want to but I like you.” you tell him, as you are trying to free your hands. He didn’t let them go. “I know that.” he said, you frown. “Ron told me just now.” he said: “Said you’ve been sulking over me for the past three hours.” you try not to look George in the eye, but rather you focus on his hands. He put his hand on your cheek, and pulled you closer, before pressing his lips against yours. He kissed gently, like he had been waiting for this, and wanted to savour the moment, like good wine. You pull out your walkman, and put on the volume loud, he takes your hand, and you slowly dance to sixpence, as he kisses you softly.

Tagged: @enchantedcruelsummer

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley imagine #fred and george #fred weasley #Harry potter #Ron Weasley

84 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 4 years ago

Text

Heart of Thorns

Genre: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Romace, Angst

Paring: Tao x Reader

Inspired by: These moodboards created by @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme (x) (x) and my absolute obsession with Beauty and the Beast

Summary: Lost in a forest during a storm, you find shelter in a crumbling castle that had been hidden away for years. The master of the house shut himself away, refusing to engage with the world. Too intrigued and running away from your own fears, you refuse to leave no matter how much he tells you to, wanting to try and find the heart within the beast.

Part One I Part Two I Part Three

A tuttering sound was the first thing you were aware of when you came to. Then it was the cold press against your forehead, making you flinch back with a slight groan. Eyes still squeezed shut, you swatted at the thing to make it go away. Your head throbbed but the cold press was somehow worse.

“Now, now. I know it might be uncomfortable, but you have a nasty goose egg on your forehead that needs attending to.”

“It’s hardly that serious.”

At the male’s voice, your eyelids snapped open. You pushed back into the pillows once you realized who it was.

Standing at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his back, staring down at you, was the man who had frightened you nearly to death. He wore scowl on his face under the mask that had been replaced. A brief memory of what lied underneath flashed in your mind.

“It’s alright, dear,” Mrs. Chan cooed at you. “You’re safe. Despite that tumble you took down the stairs.” She punctuated that statement with a sharp glare towards the man.

“I didn’t push her,” he growled defensively.

“No, but you didn’t have to frighten me like that,” you snapped. This was a new sense of bravery for you, but he deserved it. A simple “please don’t go come in here” would have sufficed.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t snoop around a place where you are a guest.”

“I wouldn’t have been a guest if you had your way initially, given how you wanted to throw me out when I was still suffering from a fever. What kind of a gentleman is that?”

The man cleared his throat, having been outdone in the argument. “Just stay out of the west wing.” The tails of his jacket bellowed behind him as he whirled on his toes and left the room.

“Does he always have to be so dramatic?” you mumbled to yourself.

Mrs. Chan tutted at you. “I thought you were supposed to be the most obedient out of your siblings.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling shame for having betrayed her trust. “I’m sorry. I heard a noise and I was worried someone was hurt.”

“Sometimes I wonder if your heart is too soft for your own good,” she said. “I’ve seen how your sister bullies you around and how you are with the less fortunate, even with your own current predicament.” Ringing the wet cloth out over a bowl, she sighed. “Get some more rest and then, after breakfast, we’ll go walking outside, alright? Help you get your strength back. Maybe even satiate that curiosity. Can’t really get into trouble out there.”

“Is he always so obnoxious?” you asked. Though you knew they shouldn’t, your thoughts were focused on the man in the mask. His temper should have been enough for you to ask to go home, but you were curious about the scars – both the physical and the invisible ones.

“The master has had a hard life these past five years.”

That was hardly an answer to your question, more of an excuse. But you decided that maybe another route was better. “Why does he wear that mask?” From you could remember, the scars didn’t seem severe enough to constitute hiding them all the time.

“He doesn’t like people staring.”

“But wouldn’t people stare anyway?”

“He’d rather have them stare at the mask then at-” she caught herself before she could reveal too much. “What’s underneath,” she finished. She must not have known that you saw the lord without his mask last night.

“Does he even go out for people to stare?”

“You are quite the curious child, aren’t you?”

You laughed just a little bit. “Father always said that I wanted to know more than what I should.”

“He’s right.” Letting out a long breath, Mrs. Chan straightened the blanket and patted it flat. “I supposed you should know a little, if that would make you a bit more cautious.” You straightened up in anticipation. It didn’t escape Mrs. Chan’s notice, who shook her head. “Years ago, Lord Huang was engaged to a… very beautiful woman. No one is sure where she came from, but the young lord was in love. It was the first time we’d seen him so happy since his father passed. It was good to see him so spirited. But… one night, after they were wed, there was an argument. I couldn’t hear what it was about, but Lord Huang was very upset. It calmed down eventually, and everyone went to bed. Sometime before the sun came up the next day, there was a fire in his bedroom. It took so long to put out we feared the worst. Lord Huang was unconscious when they broke the door down. He barely survived, but not without the incident leaving its mark.”

You swallowed thickly. “And… her?”

“She died. From the smoke, they think. Her body was found in the adjoining room. Her skirts were scorched, so they think she might have started out in his room and then tried to run to safety but didn’t make it.”

“Is that what you think?”

Mrs. Chan picked up the tray on the nightstand with more force than needed. “I think a tragedy happened that night and it changed a good man. Scars that you can see aren’t the only ones that can’t fully heal.” She exited the room, leaving you behind with a slight feeling of guilt.

But did you really do anything wrong? Was it not right to be curious about your less than gracious host? Many people had tragedies, but that didn’t mean the answer was to shut yourself away and be cruel to those around you. You never made any complaint about not having a mother. And when your father was tricked into ruin, you made the most of your new situation.

You stewed on the story Mrs. Chan had told as you buried yourself deeper into bed. The sun wouldn’t be rising for a few more hours and no candles had been left lit. Even if you wanted to add light into the room to see by, you didn’t know where to find a match. As sleep was the only choice you had, you closed your eyes and dreamt of a white mask.

Mrs. Chan brought you breakfast after the sun had risen and she even had a new change of clothes. They were a bit fancier than your usual garb (Cosette would have been snatching them as quick as her thin hands would allow), but you thanked Mrs. Chan as she helped you get dressed. The rose red color of the dress was striking against your skin, but the blue overcoat created a calming effect for the color as you buttoned it closed under your chest.

It was a bit colder outside today. The sun was hidden by thick clouds and a breeze ruffled at your skirts. Your fingers were stiff, so you kept them warmed with your arms that crossed in front on your chest. You were mostly silent as Mrs. Chan talked. She complained about Mr. Chan’s snoring and the rising price of fish. All of this was underlined with a sense of humor. The only time you had seen at the upmost serious was when she told you about the fire. Her presence was becoming one of comfort for you, one that you didn’t want to leave. It was the motherly figure you had been denied most of your life. The two of you were laughing at a story of Mr. Chan chasing after chickens that had gotten loose when Lord Huang came down the vast steps that led to the upper back of the castle. Mrs. Chan stopped you as he came closer and you both dipped into a low curtsy.

“Is there something you are needing, Lord Huang?”

Lord Huang gave a flickering glance in your direction before turning back to Mrs. Chan. “Leave us.”

You swallowed with panic. She wouldn’t really leave you alone with him, would she?

Apparently, yes, she would. A look of pity was sent to you before she curtsied again and walked away. Lord Huang motioned with his head to follow him. For a few minutes, the two of you continued to walk the grounds, no words spoken from either of you. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you went through every possibility for this sudden interest in you. Was he testing you? Was he going to question you further? Or yell at you again for invading his privacy? Without warning, he stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

“If you’re well enough to walk on the grounds, you’re well enough to go home.”

He snarled. He couldn’t be used to disobedience of this magnitude. “And why is that you don’t want to leave? To find out more about the reclusive lord who killed his wife in a fire?”

You shook your head fervently. “No. It has nothing to do with you.” Though you were still curious to know more about him, that was an ant compared to the mountain that loomed over you back home.

“Then why?” he snapped.

“My family is forcing me to do something I don’t want to do, and I need time to figure out how to get out of it.”

With a clearing of his throat, he placed his hands behind his back and looked out into the fields. “And what is it that your family is trying to force you do to?”

“They want me to get married.”

He scoffed. “Marriage? That’s what you’re running away from?”

“Yes. Because I don’t love him. A marriage like that isn’t worth entering.”

“Love in marriage is a fairytale. It’s foolish to believe in that.”

Anger was boiling the blood under your skin. Who was he to say such things? Didn’t he do exactly that? “If that’s so, then why did you marry your wife?”

Lord Huang’s nostrils flared as veins jumped in his neck. “That’s is none of your business! Now, go and live your fate!” He began to storm away.

“No, wait, please!” You grabbed hold of his coat sleeve with both of your hands. He could have easily ripped away from your grip, but instead he stopped and glared at you from over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. Please, don’t make me go back. Not until I’ve figured out a way to stop it.”

After a deep breath, he seemed to calm down, if only a little. In a low, steady voice, he said, “Women don’t often choose who they marry.”

“No,” you agreed, still clinging to his coat, “a woman’s lot in life is often limited, but I would like to have a chance. A chance to experience the love I’ve read about so many times.”

“I told you. It doesn’t exist.”

“Yes, it does. I’ve seen it. In my father’s eyes when he speaks about my mother. I might not have ever seen them together, but I know they loved each other. I know my father still loves her. Even with three children to take care of, he never married again.”

The muscle in Lord Huang’s jaw twitch as he clamped down on his back teeth. With each second that he stared at you, hope bloomed.

“One month. You have one month to figure things out and then you must leave.”

You nearly leapt at him in joy. “Thank you!”

He face twisted into an expression that “Now, go find Mrs. Chan. You shouldn’t be out here too long in this cold.”

You obeyed without hesitation and headed for the stairs. When you reached the top, you turned around to find Lord Huang staring up at you. Feeling grateful, you sent him a smile before heading inside.

Mrs. Chan was busy preparing a warm soup for lunch when you found her in the kitchen. She’d told you to go on to your room and she would bring a bowl to you when it was ready, but you declined. Now that you were no longer confined to that single space, you wanted to spend as much time out of it that you could. The only worry now was your limited time here. You hoped and prayed that you could find a solution to your predicament.

“Mrs. Chan?”

“Yes?” She kept her concentration on the carrots she was chopping for the soup. Taking the wooden plank that held the small orange pieces, she slid the vegetable into the soup and turned back to the onion.

“Was your marriage to Mr. Chan… arranged?”

“More or less so.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t arranged in the traditional sense,” she said. “I was much too stubborn and Mr. Chan was too shy. So, our families created situations where we would see each other and be forced to get to know each other.”

“But did you fall in love?” you asked with a slight desperation.

“Yes, we did. Our parents might have put us in the same room, but the rest was our own doing.”

You sighed. That sounded like a nice way to fall in love. It was, after all, still their choice.

“Are you thinking about that man your family wants you to marry?” Mrs. Chan guessed.

“Yes,” you replied solemnly. “I’ve known him for a long time, but I’ve never thought of him that way. I don’t think I ever could but-” You shrugged your shoulders, defeat slowly creeping over you. “The inheritance from my mother’s family is going to run out and most merchants won’t work with my father unless someone were to vouch for him. Gao has found success in many of the port cities. His word would help my father restore his reputation.”

Mrs. Chan tutted in her usual way. “That is too much wait for your shoulders to bear. But,” she flashed a smile at you with a strange glint her eyes that you couldn’t quite read, “I’m sure a solution will come in time. A girl like you deserves to be truly loved by your husband.”

You let out another sigh. Part of your mind was leaving the kitchen, traveling back to the fantasies you’d dreamt as a little girl lost in fairytales. “I hope you’re right.”

For another few hours, you stayed by Mrs. Chan side, eating lunch with her and occasionally helping her with the chores – whenever you were allowed to, that is. She insisted on doing most of the work herself. “It’s my job,” she huffed. “I would be horrible if I let a guest do so much.” You could only laugh at her response.

Eventually, she sent you on back to your room to rest, though you weren’t really tired. Waiting for you on your bed was a pile of books that hadn’t been there this morning. The titles and authors told you all you needed know about the contexts: romances. Tragic romances, to be more precise, but not all of them ended sadly. Taking off your coat, you sat on the bed and flipped to the first page of the novel that had been on top. In the back of your mind, as your eyes raced over the words, you couldn’t help but think of the one who brought these to you. Out of the three suspects, you were sure it couldn’t have been Mrs. Chan. There wouldn’t have been enough time for her to leave you, find these books, and place them here before getting so far on the soup. Mr. Chan didn’t seem like the kind to leave you novels in your room. But what possessed Lord Huang to do such a kind thing?

A giggle bubbled your throat. He seemed impossible, a walking contradiction. You were finding yourself a little fascinated by the man, even with his short temper and gruff appearance. He couldn’t have been all bad since he’d relented to letting you stay. Shaking your head, you forced your attention back on to the story in your hands. One kind gesture did not erase his earlier behavior.

Over the next few days, you did little to think of a solution with your family. You were too enthralled in the novels to remember to devote time to that particular problem. Instead, you developed a bit of a game with yourself. After breakfast, you would search the halls for a new study or hideaway, looking around the room before finding a spot to sit and read. When the time for your midday meal came, you met Mrs. Chan in the kitchen and ate with her, sometimes Mr. Chan joining the two of you as well. He would sit next to his wife, not speaking but always smiling at her. You rarely saw Lord Huang. Perhaps a brief pass in the hall or a glimpse of his black hair retreating into another room. You didn’t know where he slept or how he spent most of his days.

One evening, after you had finished all the novels but hadn’t found the bravery to venture to the library again to switch them out for new stories, you stared out the window, memorizing the silhouette of the trees against the setting sun. You wondered about your father and if he was worrying himself sick over you. Lu might have gone into the woods in search for you, only to find the broken carriage in the ravine. Cosette would be put out that you never made it to the city, and she wasn’t immediately restored to where she thought her proper place in society was.

A knock interrupted your thoughts. Mrs. Chan announced herself and then came in, a gown fit for a ball in her hands.

“Lord Huang has requested that you dine with him tonight.”

“Why?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised or disgruntled by the request, but he’d made it clear before that he wasn’t interest in your presence here by any degree.

“He simply asked for me to help you get dressed and bring you down to dinner,” Mrs. Chan said. A blind man could see the smile she was struggling to keep off her lips. “Come now. We don’t want the food to get cold.”

You stood up from the window seat, eyeing the forest green dress. “Do I have to wear that?”

“His Lordship is used to a certain fashion during dinner.”

You bit your tongue to hold back the inappropriate comment you were dying to make. Even if it was just you and Mrs. Chan, you thought better to keep it to yourself.

As soon as you were laced up in the dress you wanted it off. The bodice was stiff and the arms too tight that you could hardly move them. Mrs. Chan allowed you to keep on your more comfortable boots since the skirts were long enough to keep them hidden at all times. She escorted you out of your bedroom and down the stairs to great dining hall.

The high ceiling tempted you to yell out and hear your voice echo against the golden trim and intricate paintings of heavenly beings. Flames roared in a fireplace to your right that stood taller that you by at least a full head. In the middle sat a long table made of a dark wood you couldn’t name. It stretched out nearly the entire length of the room. At least twenty people could fit comfortable around it, perhaps even more. But only two dining sets were placed for the upcoming meal: one at the head of the table and another at the other end. Apparently, this wasn’t to be a very social dinner.

Lord Huang entered from the other end and sat down with any greeting made in your direction. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to do the same, so you continued to stand awkwardly off to the side of the room. You had never been to a dinner so… intimate before. Mr. and Mrs. Chan both entered soon after, the former helping you into your chair while Mrs. Chan filled your plates with meats and vegetables. Though you knew it wouldn’t happen, a part of you was clinging to hope that they, too, would be joining you for the meal as well. They disappeared through the door that lead back to the kitchen and you were alone with Lord Huang.

At first, neither of you spoke. He didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You could have been a ghost or an invisible monster sitting in that chair and it would have hardly mattered. Each of your bites were slow. Partially because your stomach was churning with nervousness and partially because the sleeves of the dress hardly gave you room to bring the fork to your mouth.

“You don’t seem comfortable in that.”

You looked up, unsure if you’d really heard him speak or not. But he had spoken, and he was staring you, waiting for a reply. “It’s not really my usual style of choice.”

He went back to looking at the food in front of him. “That’s all we have, except for Mrs. Chan’s clothes and the few simpler dresses you’ve already been given.” You nearly snorted at the suggestion that those dresses were “simple”. “Tomorrow I’ll have Mrs. Chan go into the city and buy you some new dresses to make you more comfortable.”

“Oh, no that’s not necessary. I don’t want to put more work on the poor woman.” Nor did you want to come across as ungrateful. You feared any misstep and he would throw you out before the month’s deadline came.

“She won’t mind. She’s been nagging me to get you a few things anyway.”

You weren’t surprised by that at all. Mrs. Chan was very much the person to tell her employer how to make a guest in his house comfortable. “Thank you. And for the books as well.”

He nodded, continuing to eat his meal in a manner you considered a bit too casual. “Did you enjoy them?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Yes, I did. Although, I couldn’t help but notice a slight theme among them.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Lord Huang said with true sincerity. “Those are typically the books I read that involve romance.”

You put down the fork, the clang of the metal against porcelain echoing loudly in the room. “Why does that make me so sad?”

And there was the scowl again. “I didn’t ask for your pity.”

He hardly discouraged you. “And here I am, feeling sorry for you.”

Shaking his head, Lord Huang stood up from his chair. “If you’re through with those books, you may go to the library and find new ones to read more to your liking. But stay out of the adjoining room.” Projecting his usual dramatic flair, he stormed out of the room.

You weren’t sure whether to scoff or roll your eyes at his response, so, in the end, you performed both and then went on with your meal. He might have been finished, but you were still hungry. And besides, Mrs. Chan worked hard on the meal. Someone should stay around to appreciate it.

An odd shift happened, starting the morning after the dinner. Now that you were allowed back in the library, you spent hours perusing the shelves to find another adventure. Though your heart longed for romance, you were easily distracted by the novels of other genres. Since Mrs. Chan was gone for the day to pick you up new clothes and other supplies in the city, you were left to fend for yourself. Amongst your findings was a family ledger. Most of the writing near the top was faded, but the last name scribbled on top the family tree was still clear enough to read.

Huang Zitao.

So that was Lord Huang’s name. You liked that name. Huang Zitao. It flowed nicely and had a noble sense to each syllable.

A dash connected the name to another, indicating a marriage. But whoever’s name was once there had been scratched over so severely that the pen had broken through the paper. Thinking it best to move on, you closed the ledger and returned it to its spot.

The next morning, Mrs. Chan was back, and you were treated to a glorious breakfast of scones and sweet buns and other luxurious treats. Between bites, you bravely asked for confirmation on what you had discovered. She confirmed that that was indeed Lord Huang’s name. You didn’t mention the other entry that had been scratched out, thinking it was best not to bring that sad subject up again.

Once again, you spent your day in the library, switching between books until you were called for dinner. The placement for you had been moved from the other end of the table to the right of the head. You were extra cautious during the meal since you were closer to Lord Huang, but you were also much more comfortable. Not only because of the dress Mrs. Chan had picked out for you, but because this new set up felt less formal, less rigid. Lord Huang spoke more today, first greeting you and then inquiring about what books you had discovered in his library. After dinner, he asked if you would walk with him outside before it became too dark and you agreed before you really thought it through.

He was gentler in these moments. The scowl was no longer a constant presence and his voice had softened when he spoke to you. And the two of you spoke about everything. He told you about his voyages on the seas and the countries he had visited. You described the little trinkets your father had brought back for you from each of his own trips. Some you had been able to save from the collectors, but most you hadn’t. You described the one you regretted most at having to let go.

“It was a cylinder,” you said, holding your hands out to form the vague shape of the box. “There were letters on the outside that you had to get in the right order for it to open. It was made of brass, I think, with the most beautiful carvings on the ends. I loved to play with it. For hours I would try to figure out what the combination was. It was a game my father and I played. He would put a small prize inside and I would have to figure out the new code he come up with. He would leave hints around the house. I miss that. Possibly even the most out of everything.”

Lord Huang had stopped walking. His gaze on you was intense, though unreadable. Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and started pulling you back towards the castle. “Come with me.”

He led you through the halls of the castle until he came to a room you had never entered before. It was located in the western hall where you were forbidden to wander into again. Leading you inside, Lord Huang kept the door open and walked over to the dresser on the far side of the room. Your mouth hung open as you took in the sight of the extravagant bedroom. The bed was big enough to hold four people at least and the dresser and side tables shined in the fading sunlight as if polished with gold. The sheets were made of silk and embroidered canopies hung from the top of the bedposts.

“(y/n).”

You turned your attention back to Lord Huang, who had opened the doors of the top half of a wardrobe. You walked in deeper to the room, curious as to what he wanted to show you. From the wardrobe, he pulled out an almost exact replica of the cylinder box your father had given you. A gasp was pulled from your lips as lord Huang handed it to you. With careful fingers, you took the cylinder, a smile spreading across your lips.

“It’s called a Da Vinci box,” he explained. “Whether or not he actually invented it is up for debate, but I’ve always liked the name.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said. The metal smelled vaguely of brass, just like your father’s. A few of the symbols were faded. It was beautiful. Though reluctant, you went to hand it back to him, but he shook his head.

“No. You can keep it. To replace the one you lost.”

“I… I-” You shook your head, unable to find the words to say.

“Even if you try to give it back, I’ll just sneak it into your bag.”

You weren’t sure why, but that subtle reminder of you someday leaving stung at your heart. But you pushed it aside and held the box close to your heart. “Thank you, Lord Huang. It means the world to me.”

The beastly façade that he had held on to since you met him cracked. He was smiling at you. A genuine smile. And it was making your heart leap in your chest in a way you had never experienced before.

After that night, you spent most of your days with Lord Huang. You ate each meal with him, even breakfast, and then the two of you would spend the mornings in the library. He would show you books and maps and other baubles he had collected when he used to travel the world. Once lunch was over, the two of you would either go back to the library or he would take you to the stables where you would then spend the afternoon riding through the vast fields of his estate. His large shire, Zeus, was as black as night, but as happy as a summer’s day. The mare that Lord Huang had you ride was smaller, with a golden coat and pure white mane. The horses were opposites but got along a great deal.

The daily rides were exhilarating. You never went beyond the trees, but you always felt safe.

One afternoon, a rainstorm rolled in without either of you realizing. At first, only a few drops splattered on your shoulder and in the grass. But within a single blink, the rain came down harder, reminding you of that night in the woods.

“Follow me!” Lord Huang yelled above the noise. He was already soaked through and you were fairing no better.

The horses galloped through the storm. Neither of you slowed until you were finally under shelter in the stables. Lord Huang dismounted first, undoing Zeus’ saddle as quickly as possible to get the horse more comfortable. Once back in his stall, Lord Huang turned and helped you down. You watched silently as he took care of the horses, helping them dry and eat. He was gentle with the creatures, petting their necks and noses and telling them how good they were. You stood off to the side, smiling widely at the human in front of you. When he turned back, you didn’t bother to try and hide it. Even when he stepped closer, so close that you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, you refused to stop smiling.

With his right hand, he reached up and caressed your cheek. Your breath caught in your throat. Moments went by. The two of you simply stood there, no sound but the rain on the wooden roof and the occasional whine from a horse. Your gazes were equal in intensity. You wondered– no, you hoped that he would lean down and press his lips to yours. But, instead, he cleared his throat and took a step back.

“You had a blade of grass on your face.”

Your eyes fell to the straw-covered floor. “Oh.”

“Come on.” He placed a hand on your back. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold. Mrs. Chan will never let me live if you get sick again.”

The smile was back on your face, if smaller this time, as you headed back inside the castle. He escorted you all the way to your room before bowing and walking back down the hall. Giggles like a schoolgirl were bubbling up in your throat. It wasn’t until you were safe inside your room did you allow them out.

“What is all this laughing about?” Mrs. Chan entered your room, her hands on her hips.

“The rain caught us by surprise,” you lied. “I haven’t been caught in the rain since I was a child.”

Mrs. Chan tutted at you before going over to the wardrobe to help you change for dinner. The charge you had felt in the stables was still there as you and Lord Huang ate. His eyes would flicker to you and then fall back down to his plate. He would occasionally stumble on a word or forget them entirely. You would fill in the needed speech, finding the moment rather endearing.

Yes, you were certainly beginning to enjoy yourself here.

Thoughts of Gao and your family’s wishes were far from your mind. It was only after your evening walks, when he dropped you off outside of your bedroom door and you went inside, alone for the first time since you’d woken up, did you remember the deadline Lord Huang had given you.

It was nearing closer. A mere few days away now. You wanted to ask him for more time, to let you stay a little longer. Truth be told, it was no longer about avoiding your family. It was this place you didn’t want to leave. You would miss him. And you worried that you would never see him again.

Though his past and secrets still scared you, the man who walked with you, laughed with you, gave you no sense of fear. When your skin brushed his, there was no chill of fright, only warmth and a wish to feel it again. He was a man who hid himself from the world, but let you see parts of himself. You still didn’t have the whole picture, but you knew that if you stayed, you would eventually have it all.

The night before the deadline, Mrs. Chan was helping you get ready for dinner. Lord Huang had requested that you dress in a higher fashion this time around. You were confused by the sudden change in atmosphere but held your tongue. Mrs. Chan was putting pins in your hair as she chatted away about the dances she used to attend when she was a young girl.

“But I didn’t look anywhere near as beautiful as you do tonight.”

You scoffed at the comment. “I’m sure you were much more radiant.”

“No, I dare say, I never did.” Mrs. Chan lowered her head until she was now level with you, catching your eye in the mirror. “You have brought such light into this home. It had been dark here for so long, I almost forgot what his laugh sounded like.” She kissed your temple in a motherly way before straightening up and staring for the door.

“Mrs. Chan?”

She stopped with her hand the doorknob. “Hm?”

Your heart was already beginning to break. The love you had been shown by her was more than you had ever received at home. What if he said no? What if he wasn’t feel what you were feeling when you were together? If he wasn’t, the heartbreak might be too much. “I’ll miss you.”

She smiled and answered cryptically, “Maybe you won’t have to.” She left the door open as she faded into the hallway.

You spent another minute or two catching your breath. Did she know that you wished to stay longer? Was there hope that he would say yes? Or was there an even deeper meaning to her words?

With a newfound encouragement, you hurried from your room, careful not to trip over the blooming skirts around you and headed down to the dining hall.

Lord Huang was already waiting for you. He stood in front of the fireplace, staring into the fire like a phantom. All this time, he had never taken off the mask. You never asked to see what was underneath, either, in the proper light. The memory of the scars had begun to fade from your mind. You feared that the simple question would take away all the trust you had earned over the last several weeks. Turning away from the fire, Lord Huang softly smiled before walking over to you. He took one of your gloved hand in his and kissed the back of it, right above your knuckles.

Dinner proceeded as it always had. You sat to his right and the two of you conversed, dancing around the elephant that sat in the middle of the room. You tried to find the right time to ask him if you could stay. But even in the moments when the conversation hit a lull, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. The elevated atmosphere of the evening gave you a small hope that he would be the one to ask instead. By the time dinner had ended, neither of you had spoken a word about it.

“(y/n)?”

You looked at him. “Yes?”

“I would like to show you something.” He held out his hand expectantly. You didn’t hesitate to take it and he pulled you up from the chair with haste.

Leaving the dining room, however, he slowed his pace, never letting go of your hand. He didn’t speak again either. The only clue you had to where you were going was the fact that he was leading you up the staircase and to the library. He didn’t stop once inside. He bypassed the books and desks and ladders that had become so ingrained in your memory that you could describe them in detail with your eyes closed. It was only when he came to that door did you start to understand.

Lord Huang took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before finally opening the door. You weren’t surprised by what was inside. It hadn’t changed since that first day. The lonely piano was still the only object in the room, a single window letting in the moonlight. Lord Huang pulled you inside and closed the door. He didn’t let go of your hand until you were both seated on the leather bench.

“My father gave me this piano,” he told you as he ran his hands over the wooden covering that kept the keys out of view. “I played it nearly every day. Music always made me happy. But… but after the fire, I couldn’t bring myself to play any song. I lost my passion for it, my reason for playing. I never came in here again.” He looked at you with such hope in his eyes. “I might be a little rusty, but can I play for you?” You nodded eagerly and he lifted the covering to expose the keys.

The notes were hesitant at first, unsure. Soon, though, the fingers remembered how to dance across the ivory keys and the room was filled with music. You wanted to close your eyes to hear to block everything besides the melody, but Lord Huang was enchanting in the way he played. His heart was exposed for the world to see and you didn’t want to miss a moment.

All too soon, the music descended into one final note. You stared at Lord Huang in wonder. This was a new side to him that you had never experienced before. The way he played with a childlike enthusiasm… you were in complete awe. Unable to stop yourself, you reached out and pushed a lock of hair that had fallen while he played away from his forehead. He caught your wrist before you could bring it back.

“(y/n).” It was the only word that was uttered before he leaned in closer and pressed his lips to yours.

At first, there was hesitation on both sides. Neither of you was sure how to proceed. Then his grip on your wrist relaxed, letting it go to bring you closer to him by your waist. You followed his movements like a dance. Behind his head, you pulled off your gloves, wanting to touch his skin with your own. You cradled his face in your palms. The edge of the mask dug into your wrist. He lifted you up and moved your skirts in a skillful way so you were sitting on his lap. Girls in the city used to giggle as they gossiped over the things they had done with their suitors. You had never joined in, having never been in a situation like this before. But now you understood the tingling under your skin. The softness of his lips and the feeling of being held in his strong arms. You pulled back only for a moment. Fingers slightly trembling, you reached behind his head and pulled at the string that kept the mask in place. The mask began to slip away. A single word left in a whisper from your lips.

“Zitao.”

That one little word snapped Lord Huang out of his trance. He pushed you away. You barely caught yourself against the piano. He stood up and started pacing about the room, one hand over his mask to keep it in place.

“Zitao-”

He whirled on you. “I never gave you permission to speak to me as so!”

You gaped at him. You couldn’t understand why he was suddenly acting like this. “What did I do wrong?”

“I want you to leave.” His shoulders were heaving up and down. His free fist was balled at his side. But you stayed firm.

“No.”

“I said get OUT! Leave this castle and never come back!” He grabbed you by the arm and threw you from the room. The door slammed behind you, cutting you off from Lord Huang. The shelves rattled from the force.

Tears streaming down your face, you ran back to your room. You tripped over your skirts, despite having gathered them in your arms. You were too distraught to keep your balance. As soon as you made it back, you started ripping the dress off. You yanked out the pins and pulled at the bracelets until they set you free. Once you were released from the shackles, you threw yourself on to the bed and cried, cursing the day you met Huang Zitao.

Mrs. Chan woke you up early the next morning. If there had been any hope that Lord Huang had calmed down and changed his mind through the course of the night, it was gone the moment you saw Mrs. Chan’s face. She was without a single smile or twinkle in her eye. Her usually perkiness was gone, replaced instead by a distant seriousness. She hardly spoke except to give you an order. You were clothed in a simple dress and a cloak to keep you warm. Unknown to you, she had thrown your old dress away that had been ruined by the storm.

Mr. Chan was waiting outside with a small open carriage. He was already seated up front, the reins held tightly in his hands. Mrs. Chan helped you into the carriage and then placed two bags on the other side. Before you sat down, the feeling of eyes on your back ran through you. Turning around, you looked up. In one of the windows, you could see the faint figure of Lord Huang. He watched for a moment as you stared at him, then turned away from the window. Even as the carriage began to move towards the trees down a hidden road, you hoped that he would come running out the front door, calling for you to stay. But when the castle was no longer visible in the trees, that flame was snuffed out.

73 notes · View notes

the-pale-goddess · 4 years ago

Text

Blind - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

The annual Edenbrook gala is all about extraordinary food, free booze, serving looks...and jealousy in every possible form. Who will crash and who will burn this night?

Warnings: NSFW (+18) Nothing too explicit this time! But obviously, suggestive adult themes are all over the story. Plus there’s alcohol, a lot of swearing and all that jealous angst we like.

Rating/Category: Mature / AU

Author’s note: This fic takes place not long after the AU Miami conference in the Miami Heat series where E&T went all the way. I hope you’ll like the twist! It’s also kinda long - sorry about that.

Taglist (let me know if you want in or out)

@caseyvalentineramsey @interobanginyourmom @newcolonies @ernest-harrington @openheart12 @perriewinklenerdie @mvalentine @ethandaddyramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @lion-ess24 @choices-love-affair @justanotherrookie @rookieoh @rookie-ramsey @queencarb @schnitzelbutterfingers @doilooklikeiknow

_____

„Ramsey, would it hurt you to crack a little smile? We're at a freaking gala.” Dr. Tanaka's teasing voice was just as annoying as his remark, but it failed to provoke any kind of emotion in Ethan. He shot the other attending a condescending glare from above his glass of scotch.

„I see no correlation.” Tanaka laughed at the blunt response, shaking his head in disbelief.

„Is open bar not reason enough to get a little festive?” He leaned against the bar, his hand pointing at the impressive wall of liquor in front of them.

„I can afford my own alcohol, Tanaka, and I'd rather drink it, quite literally, anywhere else.”

„If you hate it so much why are you even here?” That was in fact an excellent question. Why was he still there? Ethan rubbed his brow and took a look around before responding. The spacious ballroom was already packed. All these familiar faces passing through in their best gowns, getting advantage of the night off at a luxurious hotel.

„As tedious and pointless as this schmoozing is, it's still a work duty. Everyone has to do their part.” He downed his drink and called the bartender to do a refill. In that very moment three young nurses approached the bar, standing right behind Dr. Ramsey, all of them oblivious to each other's presence. „I've been actually meaning to ask you about my lung cancer patient. Have you managed to read the file I left you today?”

„Yes. Dr. Mirani consulted with me before the recent development occured. I've allowed myself to...” Tanaka's voice dropped to a background noise when someone said her name. Ethan's attention immediately shifted to the lively chatter behind his back.

„...Have you seen Addams? Who does she think she is? A Grammy winner? This isn't the red carpet, sweetie.” All of them giggled. Ethan felt a tingle of irritation while trying to focus on his own conversation. But he just couldn't stop listening...

„Totally! That dress is scandalous.” The other nurse added. „Three mojitos, please!”

„Come on, girls. She's smoking hot with or without makep, in scrubs or in a way too revealing dress. I'd kill to have a body like Addams. You're just jealous because Scalpel Jockey is all over her, not you.” Ethan almost choked on his drink. Did he hear that right?

„I suppose she cleans up real well, yeah. But Brycey could've done so much better, is all I'm saying.” It was the first nurse talking again, her voice full of envy. Ethan's face turned red, eyes wandered to the glass he gripped with white knuckles, not paying any attention to Tanaka and his surgical rant.

„How long have they been a thing?” The question made Ethan's blood boil. Are they really a thing?

„I didn't even know they were a thing.” The first nurse theorized. „That chick's always running after Ramsey.”

„Susan, shhhhhhhh...” The second nurse whispered and the conversation suddenly died. None of the nurses realized it was already too late for shushing. As soon as they received their drinks they were gone, leaving the messy gossip buzzing around Ethan's head.

„What do you think, Ramsey?” He finally looked up at Tanaka. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fucking fuckety fuck. What were they even bouncing around? He scratched his chin trying not to look too distracted.

„I...I just remembered. There is a matter that needs to be taken care of.” He gulped the scotch down and left the glass at the bar. „I'll stop by your office the first thing in the morning to discuss the case. Enjoy the rest of your night, Dr. Tanaka.”

Ethan whisked through the crowd looking for air. Meanwhile, his mind had a race of its own. Tiffany's seeing Lahela. So what? It's none of his business. He made that clear after the Miami incident. They both agreed it was irresponsible, unethical and can never happen again. She's his intern. The best one there was. He won't jeopardize her career development over a stupid crush. It was a crush, right? Just a simple chemical reaction, pure physical attraction....She's a brilliant and ravishing young woman – everyone would fall for her. No wonder that real-life Ken doll took his chance. Whatever. She's only his intern, he shouldn't care about her personal life. So why was she still on his mind? And why hadn't he seen her yet?

Luckily, the balcony wasn't as crowded as the ballroom. Ethan walked up the railing and sighed deeply, knowing no one in the close proximity was beside him. The chilly breeze of the night proved to be a great companion as he didn't need another dull small talk with any of his coworkers or the company leeches. He just needed a moment of peace to clear his mind, that's all. But then he heard a familiar laughter, the sound that owned his soul. Hesitantly, he turned around and his jaw dropped.

The dress was scandalous, indeed. Its milky white satin material accentuated all her curves in an obscene way. But that wasn't even the most outrageous part – the slit was the worst. The thigh-high, treacherous side slit that put her long leg on display. When Tiffany turned her back another surprise awaited – the exposed skin of her back was glowing at him. Her every move was torture and he was being punished, but he wouldn't look away. Her black hair was styled in perfect Hollywood waves that cascaded down her bare shoulders. And finally – the cherry on the cake, her full lips painted red, seeking undivided attention. She was absolutely breathtaking.

And she caught him staring. Their gaze met for the first time this evening. She didn't smile, but he could swear there was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She looked him up and down, trailing over his expensive tailor-made tux, fresh haircut and a flushed face, and then she had the audacity to bite her bottom lip, the movement slow and subtle, followed by a tantalizing flick of the tongue. Suddenly, he felt an uncomfortable motion in his pants. For fuck's sake, Tiffany.

The horror took a different form when a wave of his inappropriate thoughts was interrupted by a large hand that slipped on Tiffany's lower back. Ethan took a deep breath, trying to control the anger building up inside of him.

Lahela looked much like the dreamy prom king from a teen movie, with his golden bronze skin and perfect white teeth. His blonde hair, usually side swept and tousled, today made a rare slicked back appearance. He was whispering something to Tiffany's ear, but her gaze was still fixed on Ethan. What was she thinking about? And then she turned to Bryce, giggling like his very own prom queen, waving at the rest of their friends standing nearby. Except she was not some clueless chick, she was his intern. His Rookie.

Another minute of observing this bizzare spectacle would make Ethan think he's a masochist. He desperately needed a drink, but the gang was standing in the way of the outside bar. Without thinking, he took one of the champagne glasses distributed by a waitress, chugged it quickly, then took another and rushed inside.

~ A malicious rumour ~

„Please, welcome my dear friend – Don Julio!” Jackie got back to the gang's table with a tray full of tequila shots, receiving a perplexed look from Sienna. „What, you didn't believe in me? I can be very persuasive.” She moved her chest to the sides, making her tits jiggle, while distributing the shots.

„I genuinely hoped the bartender would tell you off and qualify as too drunk for another round.” Sienna rolled her eyes and glanced at Landry as if she was waiting for him to back her up, but he was lost deep in his thought. „We'll be doomed tomorrow.”

„Si, please, turning free booze down is like throwing real money into trash.” Elijah gently smacked her elbow.

„Who said anything about turning it down?” She laughed, holding her shot close.

„That's my girl!” Jackie whistled and clinked her glass with Sienna's. „Let's drink like we've won the lottery tonight!”

„Earth to Landry!” Sienna pointed at him with her shot. „Are you drinking with us?”

„Yeah, yeah, sorry...” He smiled briefly and took his glass up. „To Edenbrook!”

„Hell yeah to Edenbrook! Thanks for making us fucking plastered.” Elijah marked the toast and they all downed their shots.

„This is...” Sienna blinked and a single tear fell down her cheek.

„Nasty?” Elijah winced with disgust while Jackie grinned. „Delicious fucking meal?” The group burst out laughing and then proceeded with drinking.

„Where's Tiffany? I haven't seen her around for a while.” Sienna wondered.

„She's probably getting busy with Meathead in one of these lavish bathrooms.” Jackie's response resulted in Sienna's squeak. „Kidding, he got stuck in the friendzone. Who cares.”

„But he's also missing, isn't he?” Elijah looked at Jackie quizzically, challenging her for another take at the theory.

„Turn around, Walmart Sherlock.” They all turned their heads just to see Bryce walking in their direction with other surgical interns. Elijah folded his arms in defeat, while Jackie continued, trying to hold back a chuckle. „She said something about an important phonecall before disappearing.”

„What if something...happened to her?” Sienna's face was etched with worry.

„Well. I'm too drunk to get up...So.” Jackie pointed at the stairs on the other side of the room. „The last time I saw her she was walking down there.”

„I'll go check it out. Call me if you find her before I do.”

The hotel was huge. After running down what felt like a hundred stairs, Landry reached a long corridor. He wandered slowly, trying not to make any noise just in case. At the end of the hall he found another stairs. He walked down, and down, and down...Until he heard some grumbling and stopped in his tracks. He wasn't sure where was it coming from and what the sound was. Cautiously, he continued his journey, his steps as silent as possible. When he finally saw the floor his eyes went wide and he almost screamed at the sight. With the last bit of his sane mind, he took a step back, still having a good look but not in a way his presence would be compromised, and watched the scene unfold.

It was unmistakably Tiffany. Even though her red lipstick was smeared, perfect hair ruined, disheveled along with her satin dress, it was definitely his friend. Her body pulled against a man he was about to recognize...

Ethan Freaking Ramsey.

The blood drained from Landry's face. He was appalled to the core, clenching his fists until the knuckles got white. But he couldn't move. He just kept on lurking.

Ethan was kissing her neck with such force, the marks of this shameless encounter will surely bruise her skin. But she didn't seem to mind. Her mouth let out muffled moans as her hands greedily explored his body. Her leg was hiking up Ethan's waist and his possessive hand gripped her exposed thigh, sliding his fingers up and down, grabbing her skin, smacking her ass and squeezing it.

„You're mine, Rookie.” He whispered into her ear. Tiffany moaned loudly, clearly forgetting they were in a public space.

„I'm all yours.” She purred. Ethan smirked and moved his lips to meet hers. Their kiss was passionate and urgent, as their tongues fought for dominance. Their bodies were grinding against each other in an unsteady rhythm...

He's seen enough. He tried to back away. There was no reason to continue watching two people in a loving act...But it was not loving, was it? She corrupted him. She seduced him. That tricky little bitch! She wanted to win the competition but she couldn't outshine the others, so she had to come up with a plan of her own. Was Ramsey really that stupid and blind after all?

Landry's whole world crushed down and a wash of despair fell on him while trying to think of a solution. He was determined to make Tiffany pay for her deviousness. For a single minute a defiant thought crossed his mind – maybe it's a little unfair to interpret the nature of their relationship without knowing the slightest hint of their story? But it was too late, he was already blinded by his jealousy. He found himself in a position to judge, and that advantage was vindictive enough. He shook his last decent thought off and doubled back to the party.

~ A blinding revelation ~

Inside wasn't safe either. Everyone watched The Ethan Ramsey follow his nose straight to the bar. Some of the big fish already made their steps towards him, dying to talk to him. Just one more reason to get out of this horrifying event...Before he managed to place an order, a strong vanilla scent filled the air around him. The savor deeply evocative to him, despite his effort to deny its importance. The muscles in his jaw clenched. He didn't even have to look. He didn't want to look.

„Dr. Ramsey, what a surprise. I didn't think I'd find you here.” Tiffany leaned her back against the bar, a glass of champagne in her hand, her eyes scanned the ballroom carefully before they landed on Ethan. He ran the risk of looking back at her. She was even more stunning up close. His eyes quickly avoided hers, finding a neutral spot at the height of her ear.

„Where else would I be, Addams?” His brow arched.

„Literally anywhere else. This isn't a typical Ramsey environment.” Tiffany laughed softly. Ethan's gaze fell back at her face, studying it as if looking for an answer to a question he wouldn't even dare to ask himself. She noticed the cryptic staring and her cheeks flushed with a tint of red. „What did I do now?”

Ethan was silent for a moment, considering his options. The image of Bryce's hand claiming his intern repeatedly slapped him in the face, leaving him no choice but to surrender to this blind rage.

„So you're Lahela's pain in the ass tonight.” He alleged, his speech stilted and mocking.

„Didn't hear him complaining.” She shrugged, dodging a bullet and pointing her own gun at him, scratching him in defence.

„There is no conclusive evidence to prove that, Rookie. You're standing here annoying me, not him.” The intensity of their stare was hardly appropriate for the place they were in. But they were too absorbed in their interaction to register that.

„What if that was my plan all along?” Tiffany's finger brushed his hand as if by accident when she began to walk away. His eyes followed her every move, focusing on how her hips swayed, lingering on her curves. And then, in the middle of the ballroom, she stopped and looked at Ethan over her shoulder. He swallowed loud, knowing damn well what was about to happen next. She bit her bottom lip, smiled teasingly and continued her walk. For fuck’s sake.

Ethan cursed himself for being such a fool and followed her at a safe distance. She was heading downstairs, like she knew exactly where she was going. Except she didn't. It was an exciting, alcohol-driven improvisation.

A trail of vanilla scent she left behind intoxicated him to the point he failed to notice how far from the party they wandered. Judging by the long corridor they passed through, they possibly entered the hotel wing. They were finally alone. Just the two of them and a meaningful silence punctuated by the violent sound of her heels. They reached a luxorious lounge when Tiffany decided to end the journey. She leaned against a white table, sipping her drink with eyes glued to Ethan.

„Why did you follow me?”

„Why would you want to come here? Wherever we are.” They smiled at each other in agreement – they truly deserved each other. The cheeky grin on Ethan's face quickly disappeared, as he moved next to Tiffany, playing with his glass of champagne.

„I'm simply trying to avoid a very public catastrophe.” The young doctor admitted. She hopped on the table and crossed her legs, letting the material of her dress slip to the side, completely exposing her leg.

„Are you seeing Scalpel Jockey?” The waspishness of his own voice sickened him as much as the fact, that the decision to spit the question out was motivated solely by self-interest.

„Why do you care?” She looked at him staggered.

„I don't.” He responded immediately. His words, as sharp as a knife, cut her deep and she turned away. The look of sadness on her face made him bite his tongue...Only just a second too late.

„Tiffany...” His hand reached her shoulder, but she threw it off. She remained silent for a long moment, her chest moving furiously, face hidden behind her locks. The catastrophe was on its way. When she finally regained her composure, her head angled at Ethan revealing an indignant glare.

„I'm so done with your hot and cold bullshit. You have no right to treat me like this...You rejected me. You made it painfully clear that you're only interested in Doctor Addams.”

„I know, but...”

„You know?” She got up and scoffed at him, taking a step in his direction. „You know, yet you continue this immature act. You're all jealous and possessive, but when it comes to owning it you deny everything.”

„Tiffany, your whole career is at stake here. Why am I the only one thinking about it?” He said through gritted teeth.

„Man the fuck up instead of altering the subject.” She leaned closer, unaware of the consequences, until their faces were merely inches apart.

„What's that supposed to mean?” He knew exactly what she meant. In fact, he knew way too well. Playing dumb, are we?

„Tell me now, Ethan. Right in the eye.” Her voice was filled with pain and frustration as she pointed her finger at her teary eyes. „Tell me you don't care about me.”

„What...” He blinked, utterly disconcerted.

„Tell me I can date and fuck whoever I want.” She's seen him mad before. This was something different. An entire new level of rage crossed his face. He was breathing fire.

„That's enough, Addams.” He pursed his lips and shook his head with eyes closed, as if he was trying to teleport to another dimension just to calm himself down.

„Using my surname won't...”

„Do you really think it's easy for me?” He hissed, interrupting her. „It's not like I've walked into the waiting room the day we met and decided to fall in love with an intern. Nothing of this was my intention.”

Ethan's words made her stand straight. Her face softened, lips slightly parted. They waited in silence for a minute, trying to deal with the surprising turn of events. Ethan felt the need to even his breath, when a blinding revelation downed at him.

„I have feelings for you, Tiffany.” She moved closer, standing between his legs, her hand flicked through his thick hair.

„Yes, you said something about falling in love.”

„Stop it. I know what I said.” He leaned into her touch and put an arm around her waist, a playful smile playing on his lips. She pulled his head closer, letting his chin fall between her breasts.

„I'm not seeing Bryce. I just had to see you green with envy.” Tiffany confessed, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.

„And that worked extremely well, didn't it?” Ethan arched his brow, his hand traced her curves up and down on the side.

„It did. I think I got what I wanted.” Their eyes were still locked, his baby blues finding safety in the green of her emeralds.

„You might want to revaluate that.”

„Wha...” He didn't let her finish. With a brisk movement he stood up, catching her in his strong arms, and kissed her hungrily.

Tiffany melted into him, staining his lips Russian Red with every kiss. Her arms immediately twined around him as he blindly moved her forward until her back was pinned against the wall. The kiss deepened, making them both dizzy with its intensity. They gasped into each other's mouth while their tongues danced together.

„I see your point now, Doctor.” She mumbled when they finally parted for air. The lipstick printed on Ethan's lips made her chuckle. „How come you look so good in red?”

„I can assure you, it's not as good as your smudged look.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, inhaling her delicious scent.

„Shut up and kiss me.”

She didn't have to tell him twice. He crashed into her again with renewed passion, his hands tugging at the satin of her dress. Never breaking the kiss, she slightly spread her legs and he instantly felt the movement, pressing his body even closer against hers. The rock hard bulge begged for her attention by rubbing on her inner thigh, and she willingly complied. Her hand slipped into his pants and stroked his length teasingly through the fabric of his underwear. He moaned into her lips and gripped her ass, as they continued kissing.

„You're making me crazy, Tiffany. And that dress...” He trailed off, trying to find a proper word that matched with his unholy thoughts.

„You'd like to tear it off, wouldn't you?” The lustful glance followed by a tightened grip was answer enough and it made her grin from ear to ear. „Not so fast.”

She quickly unzipped Ethan's pants, and before he realized, she was on her knees, her slim fingers tracing the waistband of his underwear.

„Tiffany...” He was slack-jawed, unable to move. His mind went off for a split of second. Luckily, he managed to come to his senses before she pulled his pants down. He reached for her shoulders and gently brought her back into his arms.

„Ethan, let me. I want to taste you.” She whispered, cleary disappointed he spoiled the fun. Ethan stared at her in awe, trying to shake off the image of his cock in her mouth.

„No...Not here.” His hand held her jaw and tilted it slightly up. „Someone might walk in on us any minute.”

Then he began kissing her neck with such force, the marks of this shameless encounter will surely bruise her skin. But she didn't mind, she was delirious. Her mouth let out muffled moans as her hands greedily explored his body. The high slit came in handy when her leg was hiking up Ethan's waist and his possessive hand gripped her exposed thigh, sliding his fingers up and down, grabbing her skin, smacking her ass and squeezing it.

„You're mine, Rookie.” He whispered into her ear and sucked the skin behind it. Tiffany moaned loudly, forgetting they were in a public space.

„I'm all yours.” She purred. Ethan smirked, pleased at the response, and moved his lips to meet hers. Their kiss was passionate and urgent, as their tongues fought for dominance. Their bodies were grinding against each other in an unsteady rhythm, desperate to feel skin on skin. „Let's move somewhere private.”

„We need to clean this mess up first.” Ethan took a tissue out of his pocket in order to get rid of the lipstick smudges all over his face.

„It's pointless. I sucked on your lip pretty hard, you’re staying red.”

„Give me the lipstick then.” She burst with laughter and Ethan soon followed.

They did their best attempt at tidying themselves up with the minimal equipment Tiffany carried in her tiny purse. They really did. Was it enough? Probably not. Did they care? Surprisingly, not in the slightest.

„Ethan?” Tiffany took his hand in hers right before they decided they looked decent enough to head back to the ballroom. He laced their fingers together when their gaze met.

„I have feelings for you too.” She coughed up nervously. A very rare beaming smile lit up Ethan's face. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

„I know.”

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #my fanfic writing #ethan freaking ramsey #doctor whipped #tiffany addams

199 notes · View notes

sleep-i-ness · 4 years ago

Text

Never There (Tony Stark x Reader)

Synopsis: Set during Iron Man 1 (I’m feeling nostalgic). Y/N is never there when it truly matters and Tony doesn’t understand why.

There may or may not be a part 2 depending on whether inspiration strikes

Taglist: @1marvelavengers1 @neymarlionelmessi7 @okkult @holybatflapexpert @uglipotata72829 @persephonehemingway @a-stressedstudent @bloodblossom73 @ccosmic-illusion @20coldhearts

“Mr Stark, you have a visitor waiting for you in the living room.” JARVIS’ disembodied voice rang out. Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at the specs on the screen in front of him. The blue lines shimmered as his vision blurred, fading into one another. He slumped into his chair with a sigh.

“Did I or did I not say that I wasn’t to be disturbed for the rest of the evening?” Tony was exhausted, every line of his body etched with fatigue. But he needed to get this damn upgrade finished or God help him.

“I believe that this is urgent.”

Urgent. Tony scoffed; swiping closed the files open in front of him. Everything seemed urgent at the moment. Was it too much to ask for a bit of time to just breathe? He’d almost been killed by the man he thought of as a second father and the press were hounding his ass about the mystery bodyguard-figure that had swept in and saved them all. Thank God he had Pepper sorting out the press conference.

“Is this guest anyone important?”

“You’ll see.” JARVIS was being annoyingly cryptic, and Tony roll his eyes, grinning wearily.

“I made you, young man. Don’t take that tone with me.” He chuckled slightly as he received no response from the ever-so-serious AI. JARVIS was giving him more and more attitude and Tony was worried he was going through his grumpy teenage years. At least J didn’t have to worry about peer pressure, he mused as he waved a hand through the hologram to shut it down.

Tony spotted a figure standing by the couch, beige coat thrown over one arm and matching suitcases clustered round her feet. No. Her audacity was astounding. He could feel his temper rising and he flexed his fingers, trying to control the rage threatening to boil over.

"What is she doing here? I ordered her access to be revoked." Tony checked his watch, brow furrowed as he barely spared Y/N a glance.

"Tony, please. I'm sorry."

"Sorry. Funny thing is, I remember you saying these words before. Several times before, in fact. And you’re back here. Again.” Tony’s tone was flippant as he poured himself a glass of scotch, but every word was calculated. Deliberate in their aim as he knew exactly where it would hurt the most to hit. “Y’know, the only thing you truly seem to be able to do is say sorry and then just walk out of my life when you feel like it. I can see why none of your friends have stuck around. You’ve never been able to help anyone but yourself.”

Y/N recoiled, face crumpling at his words. She tried to verbalise a response, anything to protest the harsh words. However, she couldn’t deny the truth. And it was all her fault. She’d let down Tony for the umpteenth time; she couldn’t even resent him for his hatred because it was deserved.

“You are just never there. You breeze back into my life when everything is fine and dandy but choose to stay out of it when my life gets a bit messy. So, you’re back again. When are you next going to disappear without warning? Am I gonna get any explanation for this mystery trip? Or am I just gonna have to “trust you” again?”

“I… I’m…” Y/N stuttered, speechless in the face of Tony’s anger.

“Why don’t you just leave now? Then I won’t have to be on edge for when you’re next gonna leave me. Because whenever I have... needed you, you weren't there." Tony's words hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. He'd never admitted he needed her. “I used to depend on you. When my father died, you were there. That’s the only time ever, I think. Wow. And then I learnt that expecting you to ever be there when it didn’t benefit you was useless. So, get out of my house before I make you.”

Tony turned to leave the room, sick of seeing her face, hearing her voice, remembering her existence. All it did was remind him of the sinking feeling of loneliness and disappointment when he’d stepped off the plane and she hadn’t been there to greet him. To know that she’d clearly lost no sleep over his disappearance. A lump in his throat refused to be swallowed down and he inhaled slowly, chest restricted by a heavy weight.

"Tony. I didn't have a choice!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she tried to hold back the tears filling her eyes. “Please. I would've come but I didn't know. I only just found out about it. Which is why I'm now here. I came as soon as I heard."

“As soon as you heard. God, do you think I’m stupid or something?” Tony gritted out; teeth clenched. “It was all over international news. Never mind just the USA, it was everywhere. So, unless you were stuck in a hole in the ground, I call bullshit.”

“I swear on my life I had no idea. I swear, Tone.” Y/N pulled her arms around herself, hugging her waist as she suddenly felt more alone than ever before.

"Did you also just find out that Stane was behind it? Or did you know that from before when you were in his bed?"

Y/N’s coat slipped from her grip. Stane had promised. He’d promised that he’d never hurt a hair on Tony’s head, by himself or through hiring others. That was their whole deal! She’d sleep with him, keep Tony from finding out about a couple of underhand deals and in return Stane would ensure both of their safeties. Presumably, since she’d appeared out the picture, he thought it a perfect opportunity to get Tony out the way and take over Stark Industries.

"I had a reason for that, Tony, believe me." Y/N’s words held no weight, solely empty excuses.

"The thing is, you ask me to believe you, saying you have all these excuses, but you never tell me what they are. Sure, you might have reasons but what’s the point if you never actually explain yourself." Tony stared her down coldly, eyes never leaving hers as tears streamed down her face.

Y/N shook, each sob rattling her frame as she tried to stifle them.

“Now if you have nothing else to say, please kindly fuck off.”

“Tony,” Y/N whispered, biting down hard on her lip. She tried to stop herself from crying. She’d brought this all on herself.

All Tony could do was just stare at the pitiful mess she was, mascara running down her cheeks as she scrambled to pick up her coat and bags.

“Please.” One word burdened with all her hopes of remedying the situation. Shot down as he turned away from, features twisting into a disgusted grimace.

“Get out. I don’t want to ever fucking see you again. Understand? Don’t ever try to come back or I’ll have you escorted out.”

Tony didn’t stay to see Y/N leave, but he heard the bang of the door slamming shut behind her. He collapsed on the floor, head in hands. God. He never thought this day would come. She’d been his best friend since childhood. All throughout his wild college days and his parents’ deaths she’d been there. But since leaving university herself, she’d changed. Become distant, always off on trips around the world. There for a good time, not to burden herself with Tony’s problems. That was the first time he’d seen her cry since college. It felt strange, like he was intruding on a side of her he’d never had the chance to know. A side he’d never been given the chance to know.

A sob wracked his body as he tried to swallow back his emotions. And he’d almost loved her. That’s what he let himself believe. That it was only an ‘almost’. Because to admit it would be too much to bear. He had Pepper now. Someone he could love with all of his non-existent heart and who would love him back. It still didn’t feel right, letting her go.

But if not now, when?

This was what was right. His heart disagreed but his head refused to be swayed. He could practically hear his father sneering at him to just be a man, Tony. He would not let one woman destroy him.

#tony stark #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony x reader #iron man #iron man x you #iron man x reader #iron man x y/n #angst #2008

69 notes · View notes

kill-the-feels · 5 years ago

Text

Teacher

a/n: it’s lil’ ol’ me again, back with the next installment of rex and the mechanic! this one took a while to write because i kept getting distracted but thank you to everyone who has liked/commented/reblogged. i adore you all!!💜💜

word count: 1.6k

warnings: this one’s got some suggestive content at the end (nothing major) and a whooole lotta fluff.

Finding things to do in between battles is always a challenge, and it often results in impromptu shows of skills. Sometimes, this comes in the form of sparring, especially when everyone is itching for a fight. But more often than not, it‘s target practice.

There‘s a healthy little competition between the troopers, made even bigger when more than one company of men are on a mission.

You watch as Rex takes aim at a target. His hand is steady, hips cocked at an angle.

Normally, the 501st captain keeps himself above all this. But this time, he’s in full-blown show off mode.

The blaster bolt rips through the air and lands smack in the middle of the target.

The 501st boys crow out insults to the 212th boys. You laugh, content to watch from your spot on the ground.

This mission to Jakku has been hot and long, with little relief. You can only imagine the troopers are just as happy as you are that night is finally setting in.

“Th’ commander could never beat that,” Fives shouts, and the 212th is quick to shout insults back. Commander Cody is nowhere to be seen, and you figure he’s probably made himself scarce to avoid all this. A wise choice, you’re starting to think, as two troopers exchange friendly punches.

You roll your eyes, taking another bite of your rations. Rex holsters his blaster, ignoring the jeers. He takes his seat beside you, his hand finding yours. In the low light, it’s impossible to notice the action unless someone is really looking.

You tighten your grip on him.

“At least our mechanic can shoot,” Boil, one of the 212th, shouts.

“His foot, maybe,” Fives calls back. He looks at you. It’s a challenge. The 212th mechanic, a civilian Twi’lek, stands up, cracking his knuckles.

“I’m not shooting a blaster,” you tell Rex. The other mechanic takes aim and fires. It’s a good shot; just a little to the left of the middle.

“Let’s go,” Fives shouts. “The 501st could beat that in their sleep.”

“Let’s see it then!” someone calls. All eyes turn to you and it goes silent.

“Rex, I really can’t shoot,” you murmur. He’s casually neutral, but you feel his thumb rub over the back of your hand, reassuring. Further insults are being hurled in the lull between shooters.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he says, tone even and leaving no room to argue.

“But, sir-” Fives protests, mouth open in surprise. Rex raises an eyebrow.

“I said, I think that’s enough. It’s been plenty loud for one night.” As if on cue, Cody materializes, breaking up the two squads, and reminding troopers that above all, they’re still in battle. Noise and light infractions - like that of stray blaster bolts - are strictly prohibited.

Rex releases your hand and stands up.

“See you in a bit?” you whisper. He nods, already tugging his helmet back on.

The two of you are in no hurry to flaunt your relationship for all eyes to see. So, if that means quick handholding and unspoken communication, that’s what it will be.

*****

He finds you before you find him the next morning. You’re under the belly of an LAAT/i, which’s had sand wreak havoc on its internals. There’s a fine layer of grit and grease on everything. It’s hot work - there’s little shade, even underneath the transport, and durasteel retains heat like nothing else.

Someone grabs your ankle and pulls you out. You’re in an irritated mood already, and you come out ready to hurl insults at whoever just greeted you in such a way.

“Oh. It’s you.” Rex’s helmet, with it’s Jaig Eyes stares down at you.

“Hello to you too,” he says drily. You wipe some of the grit off your face with your sleeve.

“Sorry. I’m just frustrated.” He helps you up, hand coming up to wipe some of the grit you missed on your forehead.

“So you could use a break?” You consider him.

“Well, yes. But the 212th mechanic isn’t taking a break.” Actually, you haven’t see him since earlier in the day, and the area he’d been working in is strangely quiet.

“Forget that. I could use a break.” You follow Rex into the hot sunshine, already missing the little shade afforded by the LAAT/i. He takes you outside of the camp, to a twisted hunk of metal that used to be a large droid.

It, apparently, never stood a chance against the clones.

Rex offers you his blaster. You take it gingerly, looking between it and him in confusion.

“What’s this for?” He backs the two of you up a few paces.

“I think it’s time you learned to shoot, don’t you?” You laugh, figuring he’s kidding.

“There’s no reason for me to shoot. I’m never in the battles and we’ve already established I can hold my own in hand-to-hand.” You, in fact, cannot hold your own in hand-to-hand.

Rex snorts.

“That was not holding your own. That was you cheating.” He’s talking about the one and only time you tried to spar Rex. (It ended up with Rex on the floor and you on top of him.)

“If it worked, was it really cheating?” He ignores you, pointing at the blaster.

“Everyone should know how to shoot. Now, you want to make sure your hand is steady when you take the shot. It will help improve your aim. Point the blaster at the target.” You’re used to working with your hands, so you figure this won’t be too hard.

Except it is. Rex goes through a whole litany of rules, then tells you to fire, but before you can even pull the trigger, he leans in close.

“Safety’s still on, Cyar’ika,” he says. You grit your teeth, flicking it off.

The first shot misses, as do the second and third. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration. You don’t like doing something if you aren’t good at it. And shooting? You’re not good at it.

“Concentrate,” Rex says. You side-eye him.

“I am.” He reaches around and supports your arm.

“On the target, not the gun.” You take a deep breath, firing again. This time, it hits the very top of the target. Good enough for you.

“Yes!” Rex pulls out his other blaster.

“Good shot,” he says. He fires without even looking. It hits dead center.

“Show off,” you mutter.

“You’ll get there one day,” he responds, and even though his helmet is still on, you can tell he’s smiling.

Rex has you practice a few more shots, and by the end, he’s standing right behind you, arms wrapped around our waist and helping you aim as he points out various tips. The warmth of the day doesn’t compare to the way his touch makes you feel.

The sun is going down by the time you’ve made three decent, consecutive shots. Rex has removed his helmet, leaving it sitting in the sand.

You lower the blaster and survey the shots.

“Good job,” he says, resting his head on your shoulder. The closer the two of you have gotten, the more touchy he is. You lean your own head down on his.

“I’ve got a good teacher.” You know the two of you need to head back - if they haven’t missed you by now, they’ve definitely missed Rex - but there’s a cool breeze blowing by, and the stars are starting to come out.

“Maybe you can teach me how to hot wire next,” he says. “Show me how to steal a ship.” You attempt to swat at him.

“I don’t know how to steal a ship. It’s illegal.” He catches your hand, so you start to sweep your leg back, with the goal of knocking him off his feet. It works, but he pulls you down with him. You’ll have sand everywhere. (It’s worth it.)

He rolls over, propping up on his elbow and leaning over you.

“We should get back,” you murmur. His gaze flicks down to your lips.

“In a minute.” Rex kisses you then, lips hot and needy. He bites your bottom lip, drawing a little moan from you. Your hands come up, cupping his face, then sliding to the back of his head and pulling him closer. His chest presses against yours, and your legs tangle together. It’s been awhile since the two of you’ve been able to do something like this, and it shows in the way you kiss. Pent up passion fights for an out. You claw your hand down his back, intent on getting the armor off, as his own hands start working the top portion of your jumpsuit off.

Rex’s comm lights up.

“Sir? We need you at base camp. Can you hear me? Sir?” It’s Fives. Rex groans, head falling down to your chest.

“Kriff,” he sighs. He hates to leave. The moonlight looks lovely on you; flushed and aroused, laying there beneath him. And he’s no better than you. There’s a lovely pink flush on his cheeks, and his codpiece is achingly tight.

“I guess we should go,” you say finally. He nods, loathe to get up.

“Sir?” Rex finally stands, answering Fives while you compose yourself. He picks up his helmet from the ground, and you adjust your jumpsuit top. You wait until he clicks the comm back off.

“Thank you. For teaching me, that is,” you say. He gives you a tender smile.

“Anytime.”

#captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #rex x you #rex x reader #clone wars #reader insert #star wars #also i found a pretty gif!!

447 notes · View notes

empteygold · 4 years ago

Text

Clockwork (1)

Summary: It was just like any other Sunday, you were on your way out to meet your two best friends for coffee. It’s been a tradition ever since you all began high school. Now you’re all graduated and your two best friends have officially become pro hero’s. You on the other hand, just lived a regular life as you were quirkless, or so you had thought.

Genre: Angst with a little fluff. It’s not much but things will progress as this fic goes on

Cw: Cursing, talks of depression

Notes: Hi guys, thanks for reading, this is the first fic i have written and the first time in a long time since i have written anything. I have plans for this fic and it will evolve so i hope you stat tuned.

The warm sunlight peeking through your window slowly awoke you from your slumber. You had spent all night tossing and turning. Once you had finally fallen asleep, the sweet bliss was snatched away from you. As a child you remember having recurring nightmares, and now those nightmares were starting to resurface. You weren’t sure as of why they were coming back, since it has been many years since you’ve experienced any form of dreaming.

Not being able to fall back to sleep, you slowly took your time and finally managed to get out of bed. You reached for an oversized hoodie, one you had stolen from your childhood best friend years ago. It gave you comfort. You remember how when you first got it, it smelled like smoke and sweat. It was all he had on him, but you were cold, so he did what he could do. You never gave it back.

As you got up you made your way to the restroom fuzzily trying to remember your dreams last night. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling of the agonizing pit in your stomach. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your nightmare had felt so realistic. It gave you a sense of déjà vu, like you have been here many times before. It felt familiar and warm, but it also made you sick to your stomach.

You decided to hop in the shower, trying your hardest to push down these feelings. You set the water to an almost boiling temperature thinking it would help. As you stood in the shower crying you suddenly remembered, it was Sunday. Suddenly you felt that ache slowly go away, and you felt a little more at ease. Every Sunday you had a tradition of meeting your two best friends whom you have known the entirety of your life. While you may have known each other longer than you can actually remember, you didn’t actually decide to start this tradition until you started high school.

******

You, Izuku, and Bakugo were completely inseparable up until you all started high school. Both Bakugo and Izuku had gotten into UA, the best school to become a pro-hero. However, you just went to a plain old high school, as you never inherited a quirk of your own. As children you and Izuku had a closer relationship than the one between you and Bakugo. Two best friends basically conjoined at the hip. Izuku was also quirk-less at the time. You all thought he would never get one and that’s how you stayed so close. Two quirk-less best friends.

Bakugo got his explosion quirk young and spent more time with kids who had quirks. Izuku was always hell bent on becoming a hero even without a quirk of his own. The day Izuku received his quirk you and Bakugo were in complete and udder shock. You weren’t surprised though, you had a gut wrenching feeling that a quirk would arise in him someday. The boys were concerned about you making sure you were okay as you still didn’t have a quirk. You were very content with not having one, and it never really crossed your mind on what you would do if you had ever gotten one.

You never considered yourself a bad person, but you didn’t considerer yourself a good one either. Saving people in a heroic way seemed distasteful to you. The only downside of not having a quirk of your own meant not being able to see your beloved best friends as much as you would have liked. Hero training and regular study courses at UA made things very chaotic and hectic for the boys. There was little time for you, and you slowly began to fade from their life’s. During this time period, you had struggled with some major personal issues and not being able to see your friends and have someone to vent to made you spiral into an overwhelming depression.

It had been months since you’ve seen the boys, Bakugo was home for fall vacation and Izuku was out somewhere doing something you weren’t too sure of at the time. Bakugo had called you up and it was so nice to hear his voice. It was low and stoic instead of chaotic how it usually was. When you picked up he could immediately tell something was bothering you and asked if you were free to hangout.

You met Bakugo at a café in town that was in the middle of UA and your academy. It was a Sunday morning, there was a crisp breeze and leaving of different colors falling around you. The walk was somber your mind kept wandering not being able to control your feelings or thoughts. You kept picking at your scarf as you were over thinking. As you got closer to the café the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries calmed you down.

Once you entered the café you immediately saw Bakugo. He looked nervous for some reason, but his expression changed immediately once his eyes met yours. “What’s with that face Kacchan?” you smirked with a flirty tone. ‘Well good morning to you too dumbass. If you must know, I’m just happy to see you.” Bakugo was only sweet when it came to you, he would never let anyone see him like this. Not even Izuku. While you could tell his feeling were genuine you felt as if he was hiding something. “I didn’t order yet, I don’t exactly know what you like.” He mumbled in a soft tone.

You ordered something new, something you saw one of your favorite American celebrity order in an movie you had to watch for a school project. “I’ll have an oat milk latte with vanilla and hazelnut please.” Bakugo looked at you with a slightly confused face. “I’ll have that too I guess” he stated. You knew Bakugo too well and knew he wouldn’t like it. “Actually, just give him an Americano with vanilla and hazelnut” you smirked back at him “Trust me.” Bakugo was quite impressed with your drink choice even though he didn’t admit it, you could see the smile after his first sip.

You spent the next couple hours catching up, as you realized the time you informed him how you needing to get going. Even though it was fall break you had multiple assignments to catch up on as you were basically failing every single one of your classes. You tended to procrastinate as it was Sunday you had to finish it all by tonight. Bakugo was very displeased in hearing this as he is a top student and knew how much potential you really had.

Upon hearing about what has been going on in your life and how you aren’t doing well in school he decided then and there that every Sunday he would make time for you. He would meet you in this café and he would check on your studies, and even help tutor you. He felt so guilty for not having spent time with you. As he was telling you his plan for the next coming Sunday his little surprised came and plopped down right beside you. “DEKU” you just about cried seeing your two favorite boys together again. Kacchan went ahead and told him his plan and Deku insisted he come along every Sunday as well. Three best friends back together again, and that’s how your Sunday traditions began.

******

After a long-deserved shower, you made your way to your closet, while you knew it was Sunday and the plans to meet with friends was already set in motion, you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything to fancy. Your body still ached from the night before. The fumbling in bed and the jerk of your body as you came pummeling down from your nightmares really put a strain on your body and mind.

A simple pair of leggings and Kacchan’s oversized hoodie seemed to be just fine. Making your way through your apartment, the coldness of the floor made you shiver. As you went back into the restroom to finish getting ready, the image in the mirror startled you. It’s been years since you’ve felt like this. The nightmares bringing up repressed memories and feelings you’ve buried long ago.

The bags under your eyes seem darker than normal and it doesn’t seem like a cup of coffee can help you fix this one. You looked back at your reflection, disappointed in what was looking back and sighed “I swear we’ve been here before, and you can’t go back to feeling like this. Pull yourself together. If not for yourself do it for Bakugo, you know he wouldn’t want to see you like this.” With a little self-deprecation and your pep talk you managed to get ready for the day.

You’re usually known to wear bold eye looks but today you went with something a little softer. A muted brown Smokey eye with a sharp wing liner. As you made your way to your front door, you put on your favorite pair of combat boots. You wore them everywhere, they were in tatters and barley hanging on by a thread, but you loved them more than anything. Upon leaving you felt a slight breeze graze your face.

*Bzzzz bzzzz* You grab your phone from your pocket and answer “Hello?” you mustered up the nerve to get it out as you were not in the mood to be speaking to anyone right at this moment. Once you heard it was Bakugo you felt more reassured. ‘Hey dumbass, where are you?” You didn’t realize the time and how late you had been running all along. “Oh my god Kacchan I am so sorry, I totally forgot about our plans today” a slight hint of sarcasm rolled of your tongue. ‘YOU WHAT” it sounded far more disappointing then angry.” Nah I’m just fucking with you dummy, turn around” There he stood, his sadden eyes igniting at your sight.

This man had the purest crimson red eyes, they matched the fire within in soul. He was beautiful but in the way forest fires were beautiful. He may be destructive, but he did it in the most alluring way. Bakugo made his way towards you wrapping his arms around your waist, you were never one for personal touch even hugs with people you considered your friends was hard for you. With him you felt comfortable, safe even. There was always an unspoken bond between the two of you, after a certain night back in high school but Bakugo would never make the first move and neither would you.

You’ve never held on to him so long in your life. He never once complained though, he just held you until you decided to let go. As the hug came to an end he could sense the tenseness in your body. Your eyes didn’t have the same sheen to them as they usually do. Even though you were wearing makeup he could see the puffiness that still remained. A thumb landed on the apple of your check and slowly rubbed circles into it.

Bakugo let out a small sigh “Oi, I forgot to tell you, Deku won’t be meeting us here today, He’s on a mission and we don’t know when he will be back” A small flash of sadness overcame your face as you would have really enjoyed seeing Izuku, but you understood he had responsibilities as a pro hero. Suddenly your thoughts were interrupted as the barista shouted out your order. You hadn’t realized that Kacchan had already ordered. “Oat milk latte with vanilla and hazelnut and an americano with vanilla and hazelnut for Bakugo and (Y/N).” He was absolutely hooked on that flavor combo since you introduced it to him quite some time ago.

The Barista knew you all by name as they have been working here just as long as you have been coming to this café. Upon receiving your drinks, you make your way to your favorite booth in the corner. It’s hidden away from everyone, it’s nicely lit, and you can see everything happening around you. You’ve always liked to be aware of your soundings in any situations.

Bakugo stares at you intensely, you know exactly where this is going. You take in a deep breath and sigh as he continued to ask you if you were alright. At first, you’re very hesitant but with sweaty hands and a quivering lip you look up and speak. “They’re back Kacchan. My nightmares, they’re back.” The amount of shock of his face was agonizing to see, he still remembers how bad they used to get.

Your nightmares would get to the point where you would call bakugo in the middle of the night screaming and crying because of how real the dreams felt. On days he could, he would sneak out of UA and come to comfort you. He would stay by your side and hold until you calmed down and slowly drifted back to sleep. It was so utterly heartbreaking for him to see you, his best friend so broken and scared. Some days he wouldn’t be able to sneak out but even then he would facetime you until you fell asleep and would stay on until the sun rose. No one ever knew about this not even Izuku.

As you and Bakugo grew closer you and Deku started to slowly drift apart. Izuku only really cared about becoming a hero and his new friends. He spent all of his time with them training and even doing all the stuff you used to do. It made you feel thrown aside and unappreciated. Just because you didn’t have a quirk didn’t mean you still couldn’t hang out with him anymore. For someone who went most of his life unnoticed and quirk less you though he would understand how you felt but he really didn’t. Bakugo on the other hand made some new friends and they’re all really great but thankfully he always made time for you.

Bakugo looks up into your eyes glossed over as tears start to form in the corners, he lays his hands atop yours. (Y/N) are you okay, do you know what triggered them to comeback?” He was quiet, worried about the response you may give him. You stare into his eyes thinking of your response, you didn’t know what to tell him. These nightmares you had were the same as they used to be. He’s already heard what happens. Images and scenes of you and the people you love dying in the most gruesome way. So detailed oriented as if they were memories you had once lived. Recently it has been the same recurring dream but last night, there were minor inconsistencies.

“They’re the same Kacchan, I keep seeing myself and everyone around me die, but the worst part is how real they feel.” As you explained your most current dream to him you could see him become teary eyed. This was a dream that has made you feel so uneasy. This was a dream you had consistently back when you were younger. It started with you walking down an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar neighborhood. There was nothing unusual about it. You would always pass a thriving Onigiri shop, A couple dogs on a walk and even pass by the most beautiful flower shop. As you come to an intersection waiting to cross the road when you suddenly trip. You fly head first into oncoming traffic and the way your body id torn apart is appalling.

While you only tell Bakugo the dream ends with you being hit, you don’t go into graphic detail not wanting to worry him more than you should. The strangest part is it always felt intentional, like someone was trailing you. You always felt eyes on you, and even though you never knew how to explain it you described them to be eyes that stared into your soul. You saw galaxies floating around in those eyes, just like clockworks. You always heard ticking in the back of your mind. Was it a count down? Why was this all you could now think about.

As your mind came back to the realization you were talking to bakugo he let you know that he will always be there for you and in the end, things would be okay. He tried his hardest for you, but deep down you knew he would never understand. As the morning passes by your usually meeting is cut short as Bakugo was summoned to help out in crime that had gotten out of town downtown. You said your goodbyes and headed your separate ways.

As you headed home you decided to take a new route, a longer way home as you still wanted some time to yourself to reflect on everything happening. The walk was cold, but the sunlight made it bearable. The leaves were changing beautiful colors and were slowly falling. You took in the air around you as autumn was your favorite season of the year. Making your way farther into the neighborhood, you stopped as that heavy and unsettling feeling resurfaced.

You tried to ignore it but as you made your way farther down the street you stop and stared to the building on coming up your right you notice the sign decomposing and falling apart. “Onigiri….” You were in shock, but the place looks like it’s been shut down for years, abandoned even. You continued on your way, but the unsettling feeling kept growing. You next find yourself in front of a flower shop. The flowers are all dead, and the store window was smashed to shreds. Maybe it was a quirk gone wrong. “This has to be a coincidence” you say to yourself trying to believe your own words.

Suddenly you see it, someone walking two dogs passing you. You’re in a trance, panicking not understanding what’s happening and why you’re seeing everything you saw in your dreams. Without thinking you start running down the street. For a slight moment you glance back, to make sure no one was trailing you. As soon as you turned around you felt it, someone had pushed you right into oncoming traffic.

As you look up while you fall you finally see her. A woman with galaxies in her eyes, was that apart of her quirk you wonder as you watch her disappear. As you’re falling you hear the ticking of clocks and see a bus heading for you. “This is it, this is how I die isn’t it?” You slowly begin to sob only wishing you had held on a little tighter to bakugo today. As you fall to the ground you’re stuck looking at the bus like a deer in headlights, when suddenly everything around you comes to a complete stop.

As you’re heaving and trying to catch your breath you look around for a hero who may have been the cause for what’s happening. You’ve heard of hero’s who can slow objects and time around them for short periods of time but a hero who could stop time completely it was unheard of. There was no one in sight, how could that be you wondered to yourself. As you started getting up you heard the ticking of the clock speeding up, for some reason you knew this meant time would be returning to normal, you made your way back to the sidewalk.

You stared at awe at the street where you just about died. You were quirk-less all your life, or so you thought.

#bakugou x y/n #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo angst #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha #mha x reader #bnha #boko no hero academia #my hero acadamy #deku

17 notes · View notes