#not like this is gonna be an entire sprawling fic but still. i want there to be some sort of conistency | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illbegottenfaith · 1 month ago

Text

world-endingly, soul-crushingly awful (a so alright, cool, whatever inspired fic)

theo doesn't realise this is NOT how best friends normally feel (bsf!theo nott x reader)

a/n - I was kind of double-minded about writing them as enemies or best friends but I decided to go for something Ive written less of so :)) this is one of my sillier ideas that I came up with on a whim but idk idk its just cute adjhcfsjdlc

tropes/warnings - bsf!theo, fluff, oblivious theo, someone hit him over the head with a frying pan level of oblivious, crack/comedy fic (very mildly tho)

word count - 2.8k

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

“You’re gonna have to send me an owl the second you reach,” Theo said, folding one of your sweaters.

“You act like Ilvermorny is on another planet,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. You tossed the folded sweater onto a pile of other clothes on your trunk. “It’s just America.”

Mattheo, sprawled on your bed, scoffed audibly.

“Just America, she says,” Mattheo muttered to Ivy, who sat cross-legged beside him. “As if that’s not an entire ocean away.”

Ivy, who had been observing Theo with sharp, knowing eyes, only sighed.

“It’s great though, isn't it? That she’s going? I mean, six months is practically nothing.”

Mattheo grunted. “Yeah. Practically nothing.” His tone made it very clear that six months was hardly nothing.

Theo, as usual, didn’t seem to pick up on any of the loaded implications lacing their words. He simply nodded, entirely absorbed in folding a long-sleeved shirt of yours.

“Yeah, it’s great. She’s been wanting this for ages.”

Ivy gave Mattheo a desperate look. He scoffed exasperatedly.

Theo had always been a quiet sort of stubborn - and not just the wilful kind. Oftentimes, he could be so utterly unaware of his own emotions that trying to drag them out would be like trying to wrought blood from a stone. But even this was stretching it.

For as long as you and Theo had been friends, it had been apparent to everyone but the two of you that there was something just a little too intense about the way you gravitated toward each other. Your conversations always held a rhythm no one else could quite fall into, one which had the two of you joined at the hip for years.

Since you were in your fifth year, it had been your dream to attend a six-month student exchange program with Ilvermony. With all the effort you had poured into your application, your acceptance came to the surprise of no one but you. Naturally, your friends were plenty happy for you, but Theo was positively ecstatic. Hardly the excitable type, Mattheo had never seen him smile that wide. Every moment since, he had been swept up in helping you prepare for your visit.

One unfortunate detail was that the exchange program spanned your final semester at Hogwarts. That was, the next time anyone would be seeing you would be at graduation. Your friends had expected him to take the news hard. After all, it wasn't every day that one of your closest friends moved halfway across the world. But he didn't. Theo had been surprisingly calm as he helped you coordinate your preparation efforts with a readiness that was hard to fake.

But that was no matter. With how involved Theo was in helping you plan your visit, the realisation would have to kick in eventually. And when it did, they would be ready to comfort him with open arms.

It was now a week away from your departure. Theo still hadn't shed a tear or said a word about how he really felt about you leaving. Your friends had spent months trying to hint to him to confess his feelings - an impossible task when he didn't seem to even be aware of them.

Mattheo swore he had tried whispering to Theo in his sleep for a couple of nights, trying to lull him with some kind of subliminal messaging, but to no avail. All he got was some bleary-eyed swearing and a pillow to the face. But that was beyond the point: desperate times called for desperate measures, and there was nothing more desperate than an intervention.

Ivy and Mattheo walked into the Slytherin common room, where Theo was flipping through a book. Next to him sat a pile of your woollens that he had been darning over the past couple of days.

Ivy elbowed Mattheo in the ribs. After some not-so-subtle glaring from her, Mattheo grudgingly asked Theo about them. From there, the conversation easily shifted to your upcoming trip. As always, Theo's voice was smooth and pleasant, as if he really couldn't be happier for you.

“Theo,” Ivy began, voice full of forced patience, “isn’t there anything you’d like to say to Y/N before she leaves?”

Theo hesitated.

“… goodbye?”

Mattheo let out a long-suffering groan.

“She’s leaving the country. The goodbye is implicit.”

Theo glanced up from his book, brow furrowed.

“Erm, okay. Have a safe trip, then?”

Ivy exchanged a pointed look with Mattheo.

“No, no. Not exactly something so...generic. Something important. Something meaningful.”

"Oh." Theo looked away from intensely scrutinising Ivy's face, his eyes dropping back to his book. "Yeah. Probably. Maybe."

"Yeah?" Ivy perked up. This had been surprisingly easy. "Like what?"

Theo thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“Dunno. Something like…you’ll be the only ever one none before you ever were. I knew you before I knew the kind of person I wanted to be. And it's a sad thing to see your favourite person leave.”

Silence.

Ivy blinked. Mattheo’s mouth fell open slightly.

“...what the fuck, mate,” Mattheo breathed.

Theo frowned. “What?”

Ivy inhaled deeply.

“Theodore. Do you think that’s a...how shall I put this - a normal thing to say about a friend?”

Theo blinked.

“I mean… yeah?”

Mattheo let out an incredulous laugh. “No. No, it’s not.”

"Let me put it this way," Ivy said. "That's the kind of thing someone might say about a partner."

"She is my partner," Theo agreed. "Partner in crime, if you will. That, and we take Potions together."

"No, as in, like a - like a romantic partner."

Theo looked between the pair, as if he was only just starting to piece together the purpose of their visit. His lips twitched.

“Let me guess. You think I’m in love with her?”

Mattheo and Ivy exchanged glances. He crossed his arms.

“Yeah, actually. We do.”

Theo scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “That’s rich.”

Ivy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Theo - ”

“No, really,” Theo cut in, still visibly amused. “That’s what this is about? You two are acting like I’m about to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower over this trip, because you think I’m in love with her?”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes. “You are upset she’s leaving.”

Theo shrugged. “I mean, sure, I’ll miss her. We'll all miss her. That’s normal.”

“Right,” Ivy said slowly, “because you’re been so normal about this."

"Haven't I?"

"You tell us, Theo. You’ve spent the last week hovering over her like a personal secretary, helping her pack, making sure she’s got every little thing - ”

“That’s called being a good friend!”

Mattheo groaned, visibly resisting the urge to thump the realisation into Theo.

“Okay. How about this - what if she started writing to some bloke at Ilvermorny instead of you?”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “She wouldn't.”

“But if she did?”

"But she wouldn't."

Theo opened his mouth, presumably to go on about what a ridiculous notion it was - then stopped. Paused. As though he was considering it. Ivy, who had been watching him testily, zeroed in on it.

“What?”

He remained silent.

"Answer the question, Nott."

Finally, Theo shook his head.

"Nothing. It'd be weird, that’s all.”

Mattheo and Ivy exchanged a knowing look.

“Right. Weird. Not world-endingly, soul-crushingly awful or anything,” Mattheo said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Theo scoffed. “Oh, come off it. Just because I don’t want to lose my best friend to some random American - ”

“You don’t want to lose her,” Ivy echoed.

Theo frowned. “Obviously not.”

Ivy leaned in slightly, voice gentler now.

“Do you ever think about her with someone else?”

Theo hesitated. His fingers curled against his knee.

Ivy tilted her head. “Do you ever imagine it?”

His mind betrayed him instantly, shaping out a scene that had yet to happen - you, laughing at someone else’s joke, standing too close to someone else, snaking your hand down to someone else's for warmth -

He shut it down. He huffed.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

"Sure, it doesn’t.”

Theo folded his arms.

“Fine. So I...like her. So what? You lot are acting like I’m going to be hopelessly lovesick with her gone.”

"Give it a week."

"Mattheo..."

"What? You know it's true."

Ivy shook her head, watching Theo’s expression closely.

“All we're saying is, you don’t have to say it’s love. But if it was, would it really be that surprising? Would it be the worst thing in the world, being in love with your best friend?”

Theo didn't know what to say. The longer he thought about it, the more horrifyingly obvious it became.

He thought about how his whole day felt off if he didn’t see you. How he understood your expressions like the back of his hand. How he noticed things about you that no one else did, like the way you drummed your fingers when you were thinking, or how you never remembered to bring a jacket, or how you always smelled like the same bloody soap.

And how his stomach twisted when he thought of you with someone that wasn't him.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Now that Theo had come to terms with it - now that he’d processed that yes, fine, maybe he was a little bit in love with you - he had a new problem.

He had no idea how to tell you.

Not for a lack of trying, bless him.

“I need to tell you something,” he said at breakfast one morning, voice entirely too serious for that time of day.

You blinked, mid-bite.

“Alright…?”

Theo inhaled. He could do this. He could so do this. He could totally be normal about this. He could.

“You should bring a raincoat.”

You frowned. “What?”

“For America,” he said quickly. “I read somewhere that Ilvermorny gets a lot of rain.”

You stared at him for a long second.

“You’re being weird.”

Theo sighed. “Forget it.”

He tried again a few days later, in the evening, when you were packing. He hovered awkwardly near your bed as you arranged your folded shirts in your trunk.

“You know,” he said, “there’s something I don’t think I’ve ever properly said to you.”

You grunted, continuing your attempt to compress a stack of shirts into the corner of your trunk. “Go on.”

Theo swallowed. His palms felt unreasonably clammy.

“I - ”

Say it. Just say it.

“I really think you should take that book on magical theory,” he blurted out instead.

Panting, you emerged from your trunk. You squinted up at him.

“Theo. I hate that book.”

“Oh. Right.”

You held out your hand. Like clockwork, Theo obliged, bending until his sticky forehead met the cool back of your hand.

"Warm, but not feverish," you concluded. He straightened. You were looking at him funny, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there another reason why you haven't been making much sense these past few days?"

Theo laughed weakly. "Sorry. Don't know what came over me."

You didn't look convinced. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Theo swallowed, a lump in his throat.

“Yeah. Great. Never been better.”

His last attempt came when you were going over your packing list one last time, just a couple of days before your departure.

“You know,” he tried again, as you tapped your quill down the list, “I’ll probably miss you.”

You looked up and gave a brief smile. Theo ached with the misery that he would be losing it soon. “I’ll miss you too.”

Emboldened, he pressed on.

“And I think, uh, you’ve been - you are… different. Special.”

You nodded, like that was a perfectly normal thing to say.

“You too.”

Theo exhaled in relief. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was -

“That’s what best friends are for, right?”

Theo froze.

A short scuffle sounded at the door. Mattheo, who had been eavesdropping, had hit his head on a particularly low beam.

“Merlin’s fucking beard.”

It was too late.

The platform was filled with a mist of steam and goodbyes. Your farewell party was only a foot away from the train doors. You were standing in front of him, hair littered with some stray confetti from your send-off, seconds away from boarding that train and leaving his life forever. Well, maybe not forever, but too long to ever recover from.

As you pulled him in for a last hug, Theo realised, this was it. This was what years of friendship was boiling down to. Did you even have any lasting impact on his life? Or years from now, would you unwillingly flit across his mind on the darkest, rainiest nights, a shadow of a memory of someone he knew way back when?

He wanted to tell you - really he did. But he had failed. It was all so frustratingly futile, wasn't it? He should’ve said something sooner. He should’ve made you understand. Now he had no one to blame but himself.

His grip on you tightened almost uncomfortably. You laughed, squirming in his hold, thinking it was one last inside joke for the two of you.

"Goodbye," he choked out. "Safe travels. Write, won't you?"

"'Course," you said. Or at least, tried to say through a mouthful of Theo's sweater.

As he finally pulled away, the words slipped from his lips

“You’ve ruined me, you know.”

The chatter on the platform seemed to quiet. All that Theo was aware of was the ceaseless churning of the crowds around you, the blood roaring in his ears and the curious little cleft that had appeared between your eyebrows. Ivy’s eyes widened. Mattheo held his breath.

You blinked.

“...what?”

"What?" Theo repeated back with an air of polite interest, feigning innocence.

"That thing you just said."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I've...I've what?"

Theo made a show of checking his watch as he stooped, reaching for your trunk. "You're going to miss your train."

To everyone's surprise, you yanked your trunk out of his reach. You stayed rooted in place, unmoving to Theo's attempts to cajole you onto the train.

"Nott, you tell me what you said right this instant or I'll - I'll cry. I swear, I'll start bawling on this platform in a minute if you don't hurry up and s-"

Theo’s stomach dropped.

"No, no, don't do that," he said hurriedly. “I - I just meant - ” He cast his eyes around frantically. Ivy and Mattheo were absolutely no help. “You’re, um. You’re different.”

You gave him a blank look. “Yeah. So?”

“No, I mean - really different.”

You nodded. “So are you.”

“No, but - you’re - ” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s - ”

“This is painful to watch,” Mattheo muttered.

Ivy ignored him. “What's it going to take for him to just say it already?”

Theo exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look you in the eye.

“You’re not just my best friend. I don't think you ever have been.”

You were silent for a moment, face impassive, as if deciding how to respond.

"Teddy, that's crazy talk."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, what's so crazy about it?"

"We're friends. This is just what friends do, it's normal."

Theo laughed. It was entirely inappropriate for the situation, and you frowning at him s=certainly wasn't but now that most of his nervous energy had evaporated, it was as though he couldn't bring himself to stop.

"No," he said, in a strained voice. "This isn't normal for friends. Trust me, I should know."

You looked unimpressed.

"'Cause," he continued, still chuckling weakly, "if we're only friends, why does this feel so world-endingly, soul-crushingly awful?"

The steely look in your eye faded.

"I mean," you mumbled, looking a lot less certain now. "You're my favourite friend. Sue me."

But even as your lips formed the words, Theo could see the realisation clouding over your eyes. You tilted your head.

"More than friends," you breathed.

Theo watched you uncertainly test how the words felt on your tongue.

"Yeah."

You shook your head.

"I can't believe you figured it out before me."

A corner of Theo's lip quirked upwards.

"Told you. I'm always one step ahead of you."

"Ivy put you up to this, didn't she?"

Theo grinned, and you responded in the same, infectious grin that he had. Your favourite, infectious grin.

"So, now what do we do?"

Theo held out his hand. You took it. It was the first time the familiar action registered as anything other than platonic in his head.

"I think," Theo said, "you have a train to catch."

#theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff

785 notes · View notes

mariasont · 1 year ago

Note

hi hi hi!!! i know you’re working on the bau sleepover buttttt i was wondering if you could write a aaron hotchner x reader fic where like what happened to garcia, reader gets shot and she’s in hospital and they don’t know if she gonna be okay and stuff. her and hotch have this mutual pining for each other and when she gets shot he kinda spirals. after being released, hotch takes her to her apartment and stays with her until they catch him and stuff. i know this is really long, thank you!!!

Some Profiler You Are - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi thank you so so sooo much for requesting <3 i kind of took this a more fluffy route and focused more on the recovery so let me know if you like it :)

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: reader was shot, comfort, angst like a teensy bit, fluff, changing of bandages, kinda shitty ending per usual

wc: 2k

"Do you want to sit down?"

No, you really didn't. After spending the last six hours in a state of near-motionlessness, sprawled across various surfaces, the last thing you wanted was to do was sit down. Your legs had taken on the consistency of overcooked noodles, so you made the grave mistake of misreading the quiet of the house as Hotch's absence, a mistake punctuated by the garage door's sudden rumble.

You should have known better than to assume he would leave you alone for even a second. Now, you were face to face, his scrutinizing eyes boring into yours, arms crossed across his wide chest. He was in a casual zip-up--a rarity that you never imagined him wearing before practically moving in with him. But you really did enjoy this relaxed side of him, he wore it exceptionally well.

Taking work off was a concept you knew was foreign him, yet here he was, not at his desk, hovering over you like a concerned parent. The entire office, yourself included, gaped at him as if he had sprouted a different head when he told them. His next move was even crazier--he insisted you stay with him while you recovered.

You protested. A lot. Shocker. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Again, Shocker.

You winced as you stepped forward, your hands automatically gravitating to the bandage that spanned around your thigh.

"You can't baby me forever, Hotch," you murmured, though your conviction wavered under the dull throb in your leg.

You braced yourself against the counter, trying to mask the discomfort you were sure was etched all over your face.

Filling the shoes of the communications liaison for the FBI post-JJ's shift to profiling, you signed up for a life of managing the media narrative, being the conduit between local and federal levels, and choosing the cases. You provided assistance in ways that aren't glaringly obvious.

What you didn't sign up for is getting shot.

The movies, the stories, even the firsthand accounts from coworkers--none of it could brace you for the raw, blistering pain of a gunshot wound. It fucking hurt. And the recovery? It was a different kind of torture, and you'd even argue that it was worse.

"It's not babying, it's common sense," Hotch countered.

He was frustrated. You had that effect. He stepped closer, his hand dragging down his face. "You took a bullet. It's still in your leg. It's perfectly rational for me to want to prevent any unnecessary strain on you."

"Feels dramatic," you shrugged, but he was right, like always.

Your grip on the counter tightened, knuckles growing white as you struggled to keep the pain under wraps. His brows lifted in response.

"I'm fine, really, Hotch. I hate this. You're probably dying to get back to work--don't let me be the reason you don't. Despite popular belief, I'm quite capable of fending for myself."

"I'm aware," he said, his attention briefly shifting to your bandaged leg. You were wearing shorts, a choice that felt less than appropriate, but practicality trumped formality under these circumstances. "Work will survive without me. I'm not sure I can say the same about you."

Your laughter was short-lived, swiftly turning into a stifled grimace as your footing slipped. Hotch's reflexes were quick, his hands steadying you--one against your ribs, the other just shy above the hem of your shorts.

"Point in case."

"Poking fun at a wounded woman? Shame on you, Hotch," you chided, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. His eyes darted to it momentarily.

He didn't move, his hands staying put, stirring a gentle, jelly-like feeling inside of you.

This was an odd sort of comfort, the kind you're not supposed to feel with your boss. You shouldn't be talking to him like this, shouldn't be in his kitchen, and certainly, his hands shouldn't be where they were. But the ache in your heart didn't seem to care about shoulds and shouldn'ts.

Hotch's presence was hard to ignore. He was reducing the space with every word.

"You're hardly acting like a wounded woman," he pointed out. "You should be in bed."

You tilted your head, sliding onto the barstool to carve some much-needed space between you. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and you needed distance to gather your wits before you did something that HR would definitely not look kindly upon.

The action was a mistake, a fact that became painfully clear as the feeling of something stabbing into your leg took hold. You tried to muster a smile, but you were sure it came across as a snarl. The last thing you wanted was to inflate Hotch's ego by showing that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

"Shit."

You followed his line of sight, landing on the fresh red seeping through the bandage and staining your shorts. Oh. That's not great. Don't think you can fool him with this one.

Hotch didn't hesitate, his response outpacing your own surge of panic, which was incredibly fast, because you were panicking and frankly not that great with blood. His hands were on your skin, easing the hem of your shorts upward to lay bare the wound you had stupidly underestimated.

You're never going on a date again.

I mean, the only reason you even went was to get your boss of your mind. Since the first day, you'd been hopelessly drawn to him--how could you not be?

But there are a couple factors to consider.

Firstly, he was your boss, and the whole notion of a coercive relationship dynamic seemed problematic.

Secondly, there's the age difference; it had never been an issue for you--perhaps a reflection of your daddy issues--but you knew it would raise some eyebrows.

And thirdly, he didn't even like you back. That was, of course, the biggest issue. If not for this, the other concerns could definitely be overlooked.

Before this whole incident, he barely acknowledged you beyond was professionally required of him. You knew you hadn't been part of the team long enough to bond--though you weren't sure Hotch did bond in the usual sense, but the point was made.

You were fairly sure you hadn't made much of an impression on him.

"Hold still." That was a tall order, considering it hurt more than a mother fucker.

You found yourself glaring at him--not that he was to blame, but you needed to anchor your frustration on something, or someone. Unknowingly, your grip had latched on the fabric of his zip-up, but he seemed unfazed. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, pressing it against the wound, only furthering the colorful vocabulary going on in your head.

"Fuck, Hotch."

You didn't make a habit of cursing in front of your superior, but the sharp sting forced tears to the brink, your body going rigid as you snapped your eyes shut.

His other hand found its way to your uninjured thigh, giving it a firm squeeze--a clear attempt to divert your attention. It worked for a second. "I'm sorry, just keep this pressed here, okay?"

He motioned toward the cloth, and you complied, too drained to consider otherwise. Your brows knitted, and you bit into your lip until you tasted something metallicy, your mind desperately racing trying to think of anything other than the blood flowing freely from your thigh.

"Where are you going?" You knew how panicked you sounded as he turned away, stepping towards a cabinet.

He rummaged briefly before holding up a first aid kit. Catching the brief alarm in your face, he quickly returned to your side, his hand finding the crook of your neck as you instinctively clutched at his shirt once again.

"If you dare say I told you so, I swear, Hotch, fists will fly," you ground out through clenched teeth.

He laughed, and now that did distract you, your eyes zeroing in on his perfect teeth. It was a rare display, and it only served to aggravate you further. Of course he had perfect teeth.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could feel you thinking it," you said, your voice rough as you willed the moisture in your eyes not to fall. "Maybe I should be a profiler."

"Definitely."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." You were lying. Everything suited him. He stepped back, and you reluctantly peered at the wound, only to find a neatly sutured leg. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"In this job, you learn to be handy with more than just a gun.”

You’d love to know what else he’s handy with.

He pulled your leg up to rest on his as he took a seat on the opposite stool.

Your body was buzzing, from the closeness, from his hands on you, and also from the pain, but you were trying to ignore that. He grabs a new bandage from the counter, hands trailing up your thigh so slowly you thought you might pass out. He was so gentle. There was no other word for it.

"How's it feel?"

You paused. Eyes fully locked on his precise movements as he wrapped you up. You were closer than you realized, practically sharing the same breath.

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, and he finished up his task, his hand lightly patting your thigh to show he was done. You didn't move your leg from his lap, and he didn't move his hand.

"I couldn't sleep for three days."

"What?" Your brows were furrowed, your focus sharpening on his face as the words left his lips.

"When I found out you had been shot." He cleared his throat, his thumb making gentle rotations on your calf. "I couldn't close my eyes without seeing red for days. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch who did that to you. I almost did."

You weren't sure how to process this information, or why he was telling you. "You and me both."

"I'm serious." And you could tell he was, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand firmly encircled around your leg. You felt a lump in your throat form as heat rose from your neck to your ears. "Do you know what that was like? I felt like my heart stopped."

"Why?"

"Why?" It was more a scoff than a word. He blew out a breath, his fingers pinching into the space between his eyebrows. "Is it not obvious?"

Your heart was beating a lot faster. You wanted to say something, anything but your throat was dry and every time you opened your mouth you found it snapping shut.

Hotch's expression softened ever so slightly, his voice low and bouncing off the walls as he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you."

Your breath stalled, as if every ounce of oxygen had been vacuumed from your lungs. The air felt heavy, almost tangible.

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat.

"That's not funny," you said. It wasn't. You weren't in the mood for jokes, and your brain couldn't comprehend he might be telling the truth. "You...you don't even notice me."

He shook his head. "I notice everything about you." His thumb stilled on your calf. "I'm your boss," he said, as if that explained everything. "There are rules, protocols. I couldn't...I still shouldn't..."

The confession stripped the room of its warmth, leaving a raw aching silence in its wake. You searched his face.

"When you got shot," he continued, "I realized that if I lost you, I'd regret not telling you how I feel for the rest of my life."

"Hotch, I..."

He leaned closer, causing your words to catch in your throat. His hand moved from your leg to your face. You were speechless, the world narrowing down to the man in front of you, to his eyes, the warmth of his hands.

"Say something."

"Are you kidding me?" Your heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from your chest. "I've been in love with you since I started. How could you not see that?"

He looked taken aback, as if your words were the last thing he expected. "Well—,"

But you didn't let him finish. "Some profiler you are."

You were practically climbing into his lap, hands framing his face, pulling your lips to his.

He chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. "Easy," he murmured, "don't make me fix that bandage again."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee. "Shut up, Hotch."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x fem reader #Aaron hotchner #Hotch #criminal minds fic #Aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #Thomas Gibson

2K notes · View notes

ohmybueckers · 4 months ago

Text

Never Strangers: Chapter Two

Warnings: internalized homophobia, binge drinking, appearance of player!paige (As stated previously this is NOT a reflection of how I believe Paige acts in real life), infidelity, angst y’all i’m sorry

Word Count: 9.5k (i need help)

Authors Note: This is coming out a lil later than I intended … lets just say it was intentional to celebrate Paige’s return and not because I was traveling all day yesterday (literally proofreading this in the airport rn lol). This chapter is told entirely in flashbacks to explain why Maya is crashing out so many years later because oh boy… this one is rough for Paige I’m not gonna lie.

also!! I don’t have a tag list for this fic but if there is enough interest I can consider it!!

December 2019

It had been a full month since that night in the parking lot, and overall not much had changed. They still did all the same activities they always did: drives around town, homework together in their bedrooms, going to the recreation center so Paige could practice her three point shot while Maya studied for this years case. The only difference is that these hangouts would usually end the same way: Paige’s lips on Maya, fingers in brown tresses while Maya trailed hands down Paige’s toned back. They waited until they were in somewhere remotely private, of course (although Maya didn’t know if a car counted as private).

It always stopped at making out though, usually when both of them were too breathless to talk. Not that Maya necessarily needed more physically - she wasn’t even sure what being ready for that felt like - but she still felt an ache after each time the door shut, either after Paige left her place or when she reentered her home after being dropped off by the blonde. She would be perfectly happy just kissing Paige for the rest of her life if she could just get some answers on what was going on.

She finally got the courage one Wednesday night. Paige was sprawled on her bedroom floor, hardwood made more comfortable by a multicolor rug. Maya laid beside her, close enough to smell the notes of aloe in her hair from her post practice shower. Shutting her AP Chem book (she had an A in the class anyway, being unprepared for one quiz couldn’t hurt that bad), she spoke. “So, what are we doing?”

Paige’s head rose from Catcher in the Rye as if Maya’s voice had startled her, cocking her head a bit. “Hmm?”

Maya exhaled, sitting up from her current position so she had her knees pressed to her chest. Paige followed suit, still lying down but lifting her upper body with her forearms (Maya would be lying if her heart didn’t stop a bit at the sight). “I mean, you’re my best friend. We spend a ton of time together… we do other stuff.” Maya let out a hushed giggle, a sheepish smile spreading on Paige’s face which flushed at the comment. “I don’t do this with my other friends.”

“Not even Maddie from mock trial?” Paige joked, her eyebrows raised. Paige had met Maddie just the past weekend, after Maya brought her to Paige’s game against a school in Saint Paul. In their five minute post-game interaction, Paige had clocked Maddie as one of the straightest girls she had ever met: full Lululemon and Kendra Scott outfit, bleach blonde hair, and a J initial necklace for her baseball player boyfriend.

“Paige, I’m trying to be serious right now!” Maya exclaimed, her hands reaching her head to hide the smile that was emerging. This was the issue - Paige made it too easy for Maya to relax. So relaxed she almost missed the way her face fell slightly, her teeth meeting her bottom lip.

“No one else knows I’m … gay.” The last word came out as a whisper, perhaps out of fear that someone was right outside of Maya’s door even though Maya’s dad and his girlfriend had been out for hours. “I think they all kinda wonder and I know they’d be cool with it, but ion know if I’m ready to say it yet. I want people to know me as Paige the basketball player, not just for being gay. I got so much I want to accomplish.”

Maya nodded along, her mind running fast to try and digest what Paige was saying. She’s a fixer at heart, always trying to find a way to make people’s problems go away. This just didn’t seem like a situation she could fix. At the end of the day she was talking to Paige Bueckers. The aspect of having that big of a spotlight on you at all times is something she would probably never be able to fully understand.

“Is that okay?” Paige asked, mistaking Maya’s silence for something worse. Maya quickly nodded.

“Yeah, I'm just thinking,” she responded, thinking about her own identity and how it affected how she was approaching the situation. “I don’t know what I am yet. I don’t think I have to know to know that I like you.”

“I like you too.” Paige responded, the blush on her pale cheeks now a lot more prominent.

“Well I’d hope so, since we’ve made out like 50 times.” It was now Maya’s turn to joke, earning an eye roll and a gentle shove from Paige, although it was clear from the adoration in her eyes that her annoyance was nothing more than playful teasing. “So what now?”

“I think we should wait before we call each other girlfriends or anything,” Paige spoke carefully, grabbing Maya’s hand. “But that doesn’t mean I want to stop this. I want this.”

The way Paige was looking at her and feeling how her thumb was drawing circles on the back of her hand made her believe every word she said. There was just one question that was burning in the back of her mind, one she needed an answer to before she could agree. “Are you doing this with anyone else?”

The shake in Paige’s head was immediate, her stare determined. “No. absolutely not, I can’t even think of doing this with anyone that isn’t you. What if… what if we just do what couples do, but we just hold off on the whole labels and public part of it.”

“Like a secret?” Maya’s voice was hardly above a whisper, as though she was already practicing. Paige’s head dipped.

“Well, that makes it sound bad.” She muttered, her voice almost shameful. “I just think it’s best if it’s just for us.”

Maya took a beat, almost deep in thought. Then a hand that wasn’t occupied by Paige’s grip reached out, a finger lifting Paige’s head back up. The smile that was once on Paige’s face returned upon seeing Maya’s expression, a kind smile on as the brunette leaned in so her lips were next to the older girl’s ear. “Lucky for you, I’m good with secrets.”

⎯⎯

January 2020

“Don’t open your eyes yet.” Maya heard Paige remind her as the two of them trudged through the Minnesota snow, which had turned to a bunch of gross white slush. Maya really hoped Paige knew how to navigate after living here her whole life, because she had learned quickly how prone she was to slipping on the icy pavement and her shoe choices were not known for their traction.

“Well, you’re covering them, so I don’t think that really matters.” Maya responded, her hands shoved into the pockets of her tan trench coat for warmth. Finally, they came to a stop. Maya heard a car door open, followed by Paige’s glove covered hands being lifted from her eyes. And she gasped.

When Paige told her she was taking her on their first official date, she wasn’t sure exactly to expect. She was more than happy doing their usual casual hangout, but Paige was insistent she was going to do something big. And that she did, just two weeks after Christmas and three weeks after their conversation defining what they were.

Paige had somehow turned the back of her car into a full picnic spread, filled with both of their fast food favorites (including Culver’s cheese curds, a food that had become weirdly sentimental to them) as well as a couple of containers filled with her favorite fruits, all placed on top of a red and white checkered blanket.

Paige scratched the back of her neck, her face flushed (whether it was from being flustered or from the bitter Minnesota cold was a mystery).“I know it’s not like… super fancy or anything. I was gonna do an actual picnic and then I realized we live in Minnesota and it’s fucking cold and…”

Maya wrapped an arm around Paige’s torso, pulling her in for a hug and shutting her up from her fit of rambling.“Paige, it’s perfect.”

Paige melted into the hug, towering over her and yet still seeming uncharacteristically vulnerable in this moment. The two of them crawled into the car, Paige reaching in the front seat carefully as to not bump her head. “I also have these for you.”

Maya would have been perfectly happy with the current setup, but Paige was never one to settle for just good. Because here she sat, a bouquet of tulips in hand with Trader Joes plastic wrap still around them. “You told me these were your favorite once.”

Maya nodded, her smile so big she feared her cheeks would hurt later. She figured the idea of getting flowers from a romantic partner was something made up by Hallmark to sell their movies, having never seen her dad or any of her friends partners give their girls flowers. Clearly it was different when the person you’re seeing is another girl. “I love them.” Maya confirms, offering a peck to her pale cheek. “Never knew you were such a romantic.”

Maya leaned in to properly kiss the blonde while pulling the door shut. She had enough of the winter cold, much preferring to be warmed up by her girl. “You’re not worried about what my dad will say if I come home with flowers?”

“Just hide them in your tote bag before you get to your room.” Paige shrugged, gesturing to the bag Maya brought with: a souvenir from a bookstore in New York years ago. “You know, once we both open about us, Imma get you all the flowers in the world.”

“Oh really?” Maya inquired, already liking the sound of that. “Does that mean I’ll also be able to kiss you in public instead of the back of your car?”

Paige fakes a pout, gesturing to the very minimal space between their bodies before cupping the younger girl’s face. “Are you saying you don’t want this?”

Maya scoffs. “I never said that,” she says in a whisper, evoking a small hum of approval from the blonde as she pulls her in by her shirt to kiss her.

Maya is pretty sure at this point that she loves Paige, but she knew better than to say it. She could worry about that later. For now she was content lying in the backseat with Paige, unbothered by how cramped this setup actually was in reality. She found when it was just the two of them, nothing else seemed to matter that much.

⎯⎯

“You’ve found yours already?”

The two girls sat side by side on Paige’s bed, one arm of Paige’s around the smaller girl’s shoulders and the other scrolling her own laptop. They were engaging in one of Paige’s least favorite activities: shopping. Correction: she liked shopping typically. She hated dress shopping.

Perhaps one of the better parts of switching cities, and therefore switching schools, is that Maya now went to a school that allowed both juniors and seniors to go to prom. Though Maya typically leaned towards a more simple style, gravitating towards simple jeans and sweaters, she always looked forward to the opportunity to dress up in a full fancy gown. And here was her dress: a deep plum shade, fitted at the top and flowy at the bottom, with just enough tulle to feel like a prom dress without going overboard. “I think it’s pretty! I like the purple.”

“Mmmm, me too. You’ll look so good in that.” Paige hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck her not-quite-girlfriend’s cheek. “I’m just not really drawn to any of these.” She gestured to her own screen, which featured various dresses from Windsor.

Maya laughed while resisting the urge to remind Paige that she has looked wildly uncomfortable in every situation she’s been made to wear a dress and that there were alternatives. Perhaps these thoughts were just clouded by Maya’s undeniable urge to see Paige in a suit.

“It’s not until May. You’ve got time.” Maya decided to drop the topic altogether. They both heard the rushing of water in the pipes in the house, likely from Paige’s dad and stepmom getting ready for bed in the bathroom downstairs. Suddenly remembering that accidentally falling asleep in contacts would not be a smart idea, Maya wove herself out from under Paige’s grasp and walked to where her overnight bag sat on Paige’s cluttered desk. “I still cannot believe your dad let me sleep over the night before your game.”

Paige shrugged “Game’s not til one, I got time. Besides, I told him you’re my good luck charm.” The last comment prompted a sharp turn of the head from Maya, her eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Paige, I love you, but that’s the gayest shit I think you could have said to him.” Maya giggles, mindful enough to keep her voice low. It doesn’t take a super mindful person to see how Paige stopped at this statement, staring at the other girl with wide eyes. Confused, Maya tries to recount what she could have done to spark this reaction. All I said was…

“Oh. Um…”

The room was quiet enough that both girls could hear each others breath clear as day. Hell, Maya was pretty sure if it were summer she would be able to hear the cicadas from outside all the way from here. This wasn’t how she pictured saying it: her fantasies usually saw her and Paige dating for at least two months before they said. Even if she felt it now. Even if she’s pretty sure she’s felt this even before they kissed for the first time.

“Say it again.”

Her voice broke through the silence, powerful enough to lift Maya’s head from where it had dipped. Paige was sat up, her arms pushing her to a standing position. “Say what again?” Maya asked, her voice wavering as she watched Paige step closer with an unreadable expression.

“The first part.” Another step closer.

“Paige, lets just drop it.” Maya begged, feeling her eyes begin to water a bit with embarrassment. Naturally this whole thing had to come to an end at some point - she wasn’t lovesick enough to believe that a high school fling would last forever. She just wished it wouldn’t be this soon, all because of a slip of tongue.

“Please.” Paige’s voice was hushed, yet firm as she planted herself right in front of the other girl, her height towering over. The lack of space made Maya feel short of breath - being near Paige had that effect on her. Especially when she looked at her the way she was now, as if she was hungry for every word she spoke.

“I love you.” It comes out more as a question, even though it was one of the things Maya was most sure of in that moment. She watched Paige’s expression, which did not seem nearly as scared as she had been envisioning. “I didn’t even know I was saying it, you don’t have to say it back-”

The end of the sentence was soon lost to a fierce kiss, Paige grabbing both sides of her face as if she could slip away at any moment, yet still gentle as though Maya was the most precious thing on this earth. Through her shock, Maya’s reflexes acted quick enough to place a hand on Paige’s chest, positioning herself on the tips of her toes to give Paige easier access. Paige broke the kiss, still close enough that Maya could feel every breath as the other girl put their foreheads together.

“I love you.” Paige said softly, a shy smile on her lips. Her thumb moved to wipe the one tear that had escaped Maya’s eyes away, before kissing where it once was. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she repeated, kissing a new area of her face after each affirmation before returning back to her lips.

⎯⎯

February 2020

Maya had been given the opportunity to watch Paige play basketball numerous times before, but there was something especially special about watching her play at her school. Perhaps it made her a traitor, but she loved cheering her girl on with the Bueckers family from the bleachers, watching the student section chant about how “overrated” she is (as if the game was even close).

Hopkins secured a near 30 point win, an event well worthy of celebration. Maya stood back as Paige made her way out of the locker room, allowing her to greet and hug them before turning to her. Paige after a good game was one of Maya’s favorite versions of her; there was something about the tired yet confident grin on her face as she made strides towards her, wrapping her in a big hug.

“Great job P,” Maya’s compliment was muffled by her position against Paige’s chest. They pulled away, very aware of the blonde’s family nearby, but Paige’s smile was unmistakably smitten. Thankfully, her dad and stepmom seemed to be fairly oblivious, and if they weren’t they didn’t show it.

“Paige, that last assist was incredible.” A voice appeared from behind them, followed by the strong scent of vanilla perfume mixed with Old Spice deodorant. A body weaved themselves between the two girls, and Maya immediately knew who it was: Paige’s teammate Jaz.

Jaz was beautiful, she couldn’t deny it. Long, impossibly silky black hair was put up in a ponytail that looked messy enough to appear effortless, but not sloppy. Her Hopkins jersey had been replaced by baggy gray sweats and a red tank that paired well with her warm skin. She would probably appreciate this beauty a lot more if it wasn’t incredibly obvious that Jaz was obsessed with Paige, her efforts to flirt obvious to everyone except the subject of Jaz’s adoration.

“Thank you Jaz. You did a great job too,” Paige grinned back, her compliment as general as possible. Though Jaz was definitely not a bad player typically, her shot was most certainly off in this game (not that Maya was paying attention to that or anything). Still, the other girl beamed.

“Are you going with the team to Chik-fil-a?” She asked, her hand grazing Paige’s back. “I got my car with me, I can give you a ride if you need?”

Good God, she couldn’t be more obvious if she tried, Maya thought as she watched Paige shake her head and stepped slightly to the side, away from her touch.“I think I’m going with my family and Maya out to dinner,” At the mention of her name, Paige gestured towards the shorter girl prompting Jaz to turn around. “Jaz, this is my friend Maya.”

That was maybe the first time Maya had been remotely bothered by being referred to as Paige’s friend, even if that’s technically what they still were. It felt like fuel for Jaz, as if Paige was free to be hit on.

Jaz looked at Maya as if she had just appeared and hadn’t been standing here this entire time. One perfectly shaped eyebrow quirked up, her hand reaching out to touch Maya’s shoulder. “It’s so nice to meet you! You are stunning! Paige, why did you never tell me your friend was so pretty!”

Maya smiled at the compliment, although something in her tone felt like it wasn’t entirely genuine. Maya convinced herself that she was just being bitter, swallowing her ill feelings and mustering a perky, “Thank you, you played great.”

Jaz gave a closed lipped smile in return before returning to Paige. “Well I gotta go, but I’ll see you in practice tomorrow right?”

It was only when the two of them began their dark and cold walk to the senior parking lot that Maya brought it up. “She was totally flirting with you.” The brunette stated, her tone matter-of-fact and somewhat teasing.

“What, Jaz?” Paige appeared shocked, an emotion that Maya found incredibly hard to believe considering the performance the girl just put on. “Nah, ion think so.”

“That was incredible, Paige. You’re so great.” Maya gushed in an airy voice. Sure, it sounded nothing like Jaz, but it was fun. “It’s fine, I just think it’s funny.”

Paige smirked, cocking her head slightly. “Really? You sound a little jealous.”

“Me? No way.” Maya said. She never considered herself the jealous type - she still wouldn’t, despite the small twinge of annoyance seeing Jaz constantly hit on Paige. It’s not like it was the other girl’s fault - Paige appears to be completely available. “Hey, I would do the same thing if I were her.”

“You did.” Paige reminded, scanning the parking lot quickly to ensure it had cleared out as much as she believed before wrapping an arm around the other girl and leaning close enough for only the two of them to hear. “And for the record, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I’m kinda crazy about you, sweet girl.”

Maya felt her face get hot. Deep down, she knew that Paige was hers. She was not the jealous type.

At least that’s what she told herself over and over on the way to the car and to the restaurant.

⎯⎯

Post game meals with Paige were always celebratory - Hopkins did have an undefeated season after all. While Paige didn’t celebrate with her family and Maya after every game, she did often enough for Maya to expect the blonde to be in good spirits. Until one game in mid February.

“Coach tore into me about missing some rebounds.” Paige grumbled, her posture slouched in the Chipotle booth as she picked at her burrito bowl. “Went on and on about how that won’t go too well for me at UConn.”

Maybe it’s because Maya didn’t fully understand basketball, but this was absurd to her. I mean, Hopkins still won - the game was just a little closer than any of them would have liked. However, she knew she would never completely understand. She knew all there was to say was “I’m sorry.”

“No, she’s right,” Paige muttered, eyes not meeting Maya’s kind ones.

“It was one rough game, P. You still won. You just gotta do what you’ve always done - learn from your mistakes and grow,” her dad chimed in from his spot next to Maya. Drew, Paige’s little brother, was seemingly too interested in his quesadilla to care about this discussion.

“I just gotta be better.” Paige shook her head, her eyes fueled with intensity.

“You’ve always bounced back, P. You got this.” Maya encouraged, hoping that Paige had reached a point of acceptance with the day’s events.

Little did she know what would follow.

March 2020

It only took two days after that game for Paige to begin forgetting texts. Maya didn’t think too much of it at first, chalking it up to her basketball practices ramping up as the team prepared for the State Tournament. A slightly longer response time was no issue worth sweating over.

But then Paige stopped reaching out how she usually did. She no longer asked Maya to run stupid errands with her, even if that was the only time she had in a days stretch to see her. And every time Maya would ask if she could watch Paige shoot, or if they could do homework together, it was met with some form of an excuse.

“Yeah, I’ve just been a little busier lately, that’s all.”

Maya sighed as Paige gave an excuse over their phone call that she had heard too many times at this point. A month ago, she could have never pictured Paige declining plans with her without offering an alternate time. Now, Maya felt like a pathetic fangirl with the way she always had to reach out to Paige, trying to find cracks in her schedule. Sure, she knew that Paige had a state championship to prepare for, but basketball had never completely stopped the two of them from seeing each other before. It had been nearly two weeks since she had seen even a glimpse of the blonde, and she felt like she was going crazy trying to decide if she was just being overly clingy or if her suspicions were correct.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Maya asked, searching desperately for any semblance of reassurance. She heard Paige sigh through the phone, a sound that tightened the knot that had been woven in her stomach for days now.

“Nothing is wrong.” Paige replied, her tone not entirely convincing, before adding, “How about I take you to the movies on Sunday night?”

Ok, now we’re getting somewhere, Maya thought. “Ok yeah, I’d like that. Pick me up at 5?”

“Of course.” Maya swore she could hear a small smile. “I gotta go, but I’ll text you.”

The call dropped, Maya staring at the lock screen on her phone: A collage of recent photos: some included friends from home, some included family (including one photo of her and her parents together that she could never bring herself to delete). Many of them included Paige, a collection of candid shots of the basketball star as well as photos Bob Bueckers had taken post games. She stared at the way Paige leaned towards her, their bodies fitting together like a puzzle piece, a small sign to them that they belonged to each other even if nobody else knew it. A small rush of comfort flooded her system as she was reminded that this Paige, the one in the photos, would never dream of hurting her.

⎯⎯

Maya stood on the sidewalk for five minutes before the text came.

Paige: sum teammates wanted to run some drills tonight to prep for this weeks game. i gotta miss tonight. so sorry.

Maya wanted nothing more than to throw her phone on the freezing cold asphalt and scream. In her eye she had every right to, because come on. She trusted the other girl wouldn’t dare to cancel plans like this, especially ten minutes after they were supposed to begin in the first place.

But Maya felt as though there was no point in cursing the blonde out. It was basketball, after all. Loving Paige Bueckers was knowing that her love of basketball would often, if not always, have to come first. Maya was fine with it. She had to be. At least according to the “No worries! Have a good practice!” text she sent back. Though she tried her best to come off cool and collected to the blonde, inside she felt as though there was something behind the scenes, and that she was being made the fool.

⎯⎯

She finally saw Paige again on Thursday night, the basketball player coming over to do some homework together. As Maya’s dad and his girlfriend were out of the house, this then evolved to them sitting in the living room, a news story about the coronavirus spreading across the United States on in the background. Paige paid it no mind, finding comfort in TikTok instead of the girl right next to her on the couch. Though the blonde offered her a couple of chaste kisses, she had still seemed distant. It was killing Maya.

“Can’t listen to that anymore.” Maya sighs, shutting off the TV altogether after a newscaster predicts that the incoming “two week quarantine” would not end that quickly. Paige doesn’t move, still staring at her phone. Maya observed her, wishing the small gap between them didn’t seem so massive in that moment. “I heard that Ella is throwing a party tomorrow night. Some sort of weird, lets see each other one more time before covid destroys our lives party. Are you going?”

Truthfully, Maya hated big high school parties, feeling as though they never matched up to expectations. Besides, they now remind her of the weeks following her parents separation, where she would go out and get blackout drunk with her friends around Boston. These were times she wished to forget.

However, she knew that Paige enjoyed them when they fit around her basketball obligations. So when Ella, a girl at Maya’s school with many connections to Hopkins students, announced she was hosting Maya jumped at the opportunity to mention it to the other girl. Surely she wouldn’t turn it down, not after the state championship got cancelled.

“I think I’m missing it.” Paige looked up, her eyes seemingly too engrossed in the art on Maya’s wall (the same art they’ve had up since they moved in almost a year ago) to make eye contact with the other girl. “Dad’s too worried about me going out with everything going on and basketball on the line, so…”

Maya nods, although her heart twinges a little bit with an emotion she struggles to identify. Logically, this explanation made sense. However, with the events of the past month, Maya was just so tired of even trying to change Paige’s mind at this point. “Makes sense.” She muttered, the two of them going back to their respective tasks. They were together physically, but Maya had never felt so far apart from her.

⎯⎯

Bodies filled the basement of Ella’s basement slowly but surely, the overhead lights allowing purple LED lights to take it’s place illuminating the room. Maya stood close to the bar area, sipping slowly on a mango white claw. Judging by the way she winced after each sip, this was not her typical drink of choice. However, Maddie had insisted she stop taking shots of cheap liquor after throwing back three within 10 minutes less than thirty minutes ago. “I love you Maya, but I do not want to have to drag your ass back home if you black out,” Maddie said sternly as she handed her the white claw.

Now, as Maya still had a fourth of her drink left, she was thankful for the interference. Spending the next two weeks stuck in the house already seemed nightmarish enough, she couldn’t imagine how the first day would go with a hangover. At least she was still drinking something - perhaps it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but she felt as though the alcohol was her one relief from the pain Paige was putting her through. Though Maya stood by her dislike of house parties, she was glad to attend this one.

That is until the side door across the room opened once more. Maya tried to listen to the story Maddie was telling her about how her boyfriend’s friends sucked as some song she had definitely heard on Tiktok blared through the speakers, but her other senses disappeared as soon as she saw a ponytail of blonde hair, followed by an all-too-familiar deep voice shouting, “Alright, who’s ready to get fucked up!”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Maya muttered.

It’s actually comical how every time Paige walked in a room every set of eyes seemed to be immediately drawn to hers, including Maya’s. She stood near the door, dressed in a hoodie and jeans and holding a red solo close to her. She laughed along with one of her teammates as one of them cracked a joke, and Maya couldn’t help but grip her White Claw when she realized that Jaz was right next to her, looking at her instead of the person who actually made the joke.

Maddie, confused as to why her friend stopped listening to her story, followed her eyes to the crowd of basketball players. “Paige? Didn’t you say she wasn’t coming.”

Maya’s lips pursed. “She wasn’t. I guess she changed her mind.” She would never in a million years tell Maddie the truth of why she was angry with Paige right now, no matter how bad she wanted to. If it meant not outing Paige, she was fine simmering in her rage alone.

The weight of two sets of eyes seemed to reach the blonde, because she turned towards the bar before either one could look away. Her eyes met Maya’s quickly, her previous drunken smile gone and a flash of something else on her face immediately - perhaps guilt? Maya broke the staring competition first, setting her drink down and reaching for her purse on the counter as she noted Paige walking towards her out of the corner of her eye. Shit.

“I just need a minute.” She hastily called out to Maddie, already making a beeline towards the stairs in search of a quieter place to collect herself. She ignores the calls from the host Ella and her own circle of friends as they tell her to stay downstairs, them shutting up on their own as they watch her pass by not with a look of nausea, but with her face flushed and nose scrunched as she holds back tears with all the strength in her. Finally, she finds a bathroom, pulling the door shut before allowing herself to fall apart.

The first tear drops, hot and heavy on her arm. Her reflection in the mirror looks so helpless, like a deer that has been shot. She hates it, having watched her friends back home go through the same thing and telling herself she would never act like that over someone. But that was before the divorce. That was before the move. That was before Paige.

Wanting to avoid wiping her eyes in fear of smearing her mascara, she leaned her head down over the porcelain white sink, her arms supporting her as she allowed the tears to continue falling one by one. She didn’t understand why Paige would lie about this. If she couldn’t stand being around her at a crowded party with her teammates, it spoke volumes on where they stood when it was just the two of them.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her train of thought, her head lifting. “I’m fine, Maddie.”

“It’s Paige, open up.”

Maya scoffed hearing the determination in Paige’s voice, as if Maya owed her anything. “So funny how your dad changed his mind so fast.”

“Maya, please.” Paige’s volume raised slightly, just a little more desperate. And as much as Maya wanted to ignore Paige like the blonde had for the past few weeks, a part of her wanted an explanation too much to be petty. She gripped the handle, throwing it open. She was greeted by Paige standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of her black joggers. She took one glance at Maya’s bloodshot eyes, tired of fighting the tears pricking at them, and barged into the way too small bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

“What the fuck, Paige.” Maya spewed, her gaze intense. Of course, this would be the exact moment she began to feel the effects of the shots she had taken earlier in the night. At least there was a toilet right behind her if she needed to throw up, which she thought was a real possibility in that moment, just not from alcohol.

Paige looks away, eyes focusing on the white shower curtain that appeared yellow in the poor bathroom lighting. “I know this looks bad…”

“Looks bad?” Maya laughed, her eyes wide. She knew she looked fucking manic, and she really couldn’t bring herself to care. “You lied to me, Paige. I think you’ve been lying to me for a while. Do you think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been pulling away from me?”

Paige fidgeted with the bottom of her black hoodie. “I just had so much going on with basketball, and other people aren’t making it easy on me. I told you, I wanted to make a name for myself before I came out, and then you told me you loved me.”

The last sentence made the brunettes heart drop, her feigned amused expression replaced by something much darker. “No,” Maya’s voice was hardly above a hoarse whisper, the words replaying in her mind. As if all of this was her fault, just because she had the audacity to fall in love. “You are not turning this on me right now.”

Paige’s hand made a fist as her eyes shut for a moment, appearing to hold back her frustration before making actual eye contact for the first time in their conversation. “Everything just started feeling so serious and I got scared. I’m scared.”

Maya heard the way her voice broke at the last two words, and in any other situation she would have done anything to comfort her. A part of her still wanted to.“You said it back, I said you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Paige clarified, though her previous eye contact wavered. “Everything is just a lot right now, and I’m worried I’ll never be able to give you what you need.”

“I’m not asking you to make me your girlfriend right now, Paige.” Maya forced herself to quiet down, afraid that Ella and her friends could be within earshot of the bathroom and not trusting the quality of her walls enough. “I’m asking you to talk to me, to not cancel on me last minute and make up some bullshit excuse.”

“It was not bullshit.” Now it’s Paige’s turn to raise her voice, something she had never done to her before. She threw her hands in the air, and they made their way to the top of her head. “You were the one who’s been weird about us being private, acting like it’s not enough.”

“Because you haven’t been treating us like we’re private, Paige. You’ve been treating us like a secret.”

“You said you were good with secrets.” Paige defended, though unless Maya was just seeing what she wanted to see there was a sliver of guilt that crossed her expression as well.

“Not when I become one!” Maya couldn’t help but get flashbacks to their first conversation about labels - at the time, exclusive friends with benefits seemed like a great idea. Now? Not so much. “I get if you don’t want people to know about us, but lately its like you don’t even want people to know we’re friends.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then why can’t we hang out like we used to?” Paige’s mouth opened, but no noise came out. She had finally made the Paige Bueckers speechless, just not in the way she hoped.

“I still want you, I promise.” Paige answered, the actual question left ignored. It felt like every bit of patience Maya had for Paige had been chipped away by this conversation, and this sentence was the final blow.

“You should act like it then.” Everything in the room, from the glare of the lights to the presence of the girl in front of her, was suddenly too much, and she felt herself fall so her back was supported by the sink, her arms supporting her. “Can you please just give me some space right now?”

“Maya, please can I just…” There were tears beginning to form in Paige’s eyes, tears Maya couldn’t see from where her eyes were trained on the tile beneath them.

“Just go.” Maya’s voice was flat, a low edge to it as she willed the room to stop spinning. From the haze, she heard a sigh, felt a body move past her, and felt the draft as the bathroom door opened and shut immediately after.

It was the longest conversation her and Paige had in over a week, and yet she had never felt like she knew her less.

Her short trip to the bathroom ended up lasting about 10 more minutes after Paige left as she tried to regulate her breathing. She hated herself for how her brain seemed to go back to fixating on the way Paige sounded when she said “I still want you”, even though her actions had made her feel the opposite.

She was tired, and being tired meant being delusional. She needed to go back home and sleep. Or she needed more alcohol. One of the two. After fixing her makeup the best to her ability with only water, she opened the door, greeted with the faint sound of Drake from the basement. However, in her hurry to get out of the bathroom, she found herself going down the wrong end of the hallway, towards the master bedroom which Ella announced earlier was firmly off limits instead of the set of stairs.

She was more than willing to correct her mistake upon realizing until she heard a giggle, followed by a familiar sickly sweet voice say, “Paige, look at me.”

At this point the name Paige was like a magnet to Maya, always drawing her attention no matter what, although her heart dropped at the way it came out of the girl’s mouth. Against her better judgement, she took a step towards the door, which was cracked so it was half open. She had to crane her head to see the full picture, but the second she did she sincerely wished she had just turned around.

Paige and Jaz sat on one side of the bed, backs turned so she could only make out some movements. If Jaz was already beautiful when sweaty and tired after a game, she was absolutely radiant now - her skin glistened under a silver sparkly top, her jeans flattering her tall frame perfectly even when sitting.

Jaz wore her dark hair down, yet Maya could still see how her eyes closed partially in bliss as she leaned in closer and closer to Paige’s face like a prey that just caught her target, brushing a hair that escaped her ponytail out of her face and purring, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time. You know I have.”

Maya felt the whole world stop. She couldn’t think about much, all she knew was she had to go.

Her head pounded as she raced back down the hallway away from the bedroom, no longer attempting to hold back the tears that had been threatening her. She wasn’t quite sure if it was from the alcohol or her crying, but she knew that she needed to get out of that house now.

Scanning the basement through watery eyes, she quickly found Maddie, whose planned angry words about how Maya abandoned her were thrown away as she saw the poor girl. Pulling her by the arm, Maddie weaved her way through (perks of having tall friends), Maya stumbling behind. She could feel the bass of the music course through her body, yet the lyrics fell on deaf ears. All she could focus on were broken promises, promises that clearly should have never been made.

She would forever owe Maddie after this night. She owed her for ordering them an Uber, ushering her in as they escaped the brutality of Minnesota winter and hurt feelings. She especially owed her for not asking questions, simply looking at her with a look of concern, yet understanding. Maddie may be the straightest person she’s ever met, but the girl wasn’t stupid.

On the other hand Maya, despite her GPA and PSAT score to prove the contrary, had never felt more idiotic in her life. She replayed every chapter of her and Paige, trying to discover when and how she had missed the signs that Paige was chasing Jaz while being with her.

Her phone buzzed five times in rapid succession, each one bringing a new pulse to her head. Lowering her brightness, she checked.

Paige: where did you go

Paige: please can we just talk

Paige: i fucked up so bad

Paige: i don’t want this to be the end of us

Paige: i love you so much Maya

She choked back a sob as she read the last message, old photos of her and Paige still staring at her as she read the texts piled on her lockscreen. It felt like they were taunting her, a harsh reminder of what she came so close to having. She wanted to believe Paige when she said she loved her, she really did. But at this point, she had run out of excuses for her. She typed back a simple, Saw you with Jaz.

Paige: what did you see

The Uber stopped outside Maya’s house, giving her time to think of a reply as she thanked the driver and stepped towards her front door, thankful that her dad seemed to be asleep and that she wouldn’t have to answer any questions for now.

It was only after she somehow made her way to her bed, not bothering to take off her clothes for the night (that was a tomorrow problem), that she typed out, Enough to know that I really don’t want to see you, and pressed send.

And for the first time since Maya had met Paige, that statement was true.

⎯⎯

April 2020

Maya found it funny how the usually wholesome streets of the Minneapolis suburbs could feel so eerie. It had been two weeks into quarantine (which now had no end in sight), and the city had quickly fallen into some sort of routine in the chaos - online school during the day, DIY projects and Netflix at night, with some cautious walks sprinkled in. Now it was approaching 6:30pm, the sun preparing to set, and Maya was alone as she approached the tall figure waiting for her at the park.

“I can’t stay long. It took me forever to convince my dad to let me leave in the first place.”

Paige perked at the sound of her, turning around to face the girl. Her hair was lightly tossed by the wind as she took one careful step towards the girl, as if she were a deer and not someone who she used to sing love songs in the car with.

“I just need enough time to explain.” Paige began, staring at Maya for permission to begin speaking. Maya gave this to her in the form of a gentle nod. “I get why you’re upset. I would be upset too. What you saw on Friday … that wasn’t as bad as it looked. Jaz saw me leave the bathroom, and she said I looked upset. So she pulled me into that bedroom and um… she knows about us. I guess we weren’t that subtle.” Paige laughs at the end, though it’s clear to Maya that she finds nothing about what she said funny.

“Okay.” Maya says, “So how did you go from that to that?”

“I told her what I did and um…” Paige inhales, looking up towards the sky for a moment where a bird is soaring above her, “She started saying that maybe I should be with someone who understands the pressure of basketball better.”

Ouch.

“And then she said that she understood me and all this stuff. And then she leaned in, and um, I’m pretty sure that’s what you saw. But I need you to believe me when I say nothing else happened. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t kiss her knowing what I feel for you.”

In Maya’s heart, she knew that Paige had to at least be telling some version of the truth. For the past couple of weeks, her phone had received probably around 15 different texts from the other girl, practically begging Maya to say anything to her, even if it meant getting cussed out again. Maya finally decided that it was more worth it to get some form of closure than to ignore Paige and remain unaware of why she would do this all to her. Paige immediately agreed when she suggested they meet at a park only a few blocks down from Maya’s place, even if it meant Paige had to drive to the confrontation.

Maya’s firm stance against Paige faltered especially after seeing the look in her blue eyes, that wide eyed look as if she was the only thing she cared about seeing. But then she remembered that night, her converse clad feet planted on the hardwood as she watched Jaz lean closer with a determined look, and she remembered how she couldn’t see Paige’s face. For all she knew, Paige had given the same look of adoration to the other girl as well.

“I want to believe you,” Maya’s voice is soft, providing some relief to the tension in Paige’s face. “But I just can’t right now. Not when you lied to me about going to that party in the first place.”

Paige’s head dipped, her voice dripping with guilt as she spoke, “I fucked up, I know, but I swear that wasn’t the reason.”

“Then what was it?” Maya asks, a surprising level of calmness in her voice. Paige failed to respond, her upper lip biting down as her eyes began to water slightly. “I thought that as your best friend, you would care about me enough to tell me if you wanted to stop this.”

“Maya, I never wanted to end this.” Paige interjects, stepping closer.

“I didn’t either. I still don’t.” Maya replies, her volume higher now. She takes a deep breath, taking a moment to shut her eyes to prevent her emotions from overcoming her. “But maybe now I have to.”

The look in Paige’s eyes would come to haunt Maya for years down the line: one of anguish, the sting in her eyes escalating rapidly. “What?” Paige’s voice was hoarse, before escalating in desperation, her hand reaching for the younger girls, “Maya, please don’t do this.”

Maya shoved her hands in her pockets. “You’re going off to UConn next year, and I’ll still be here. and I don’t know if I trust you enough to not do something while you’re there.”

Paige blinked a few times, her expression confused, then angry, appearing not unlike she did when arguing with the referees at her games. “Maya, I didn’t do anything with her. I didn’t do anything wrong. You kinda need to be in a relationship in the first place to cheat.”

The last sentence hit like a blow to the chest, Maya taking a step back as if she had been physically shoved by the venom in Paige’s tone. Any form of reassurance they had given each other, all of the promises that it was just them, came back to taunt in her. Because what was so real to Maya was clearly just fun for Paige. Guilt immediately rushed back through Paige’s expression, her eyes horrified at what she just said, but it was too late.

“Nice to know this was all nothing for you,” Maya’s voice was cool as she nodded sarcastically, beginning to walk backwards in the direction of her house. Her eyes never left Paige, even as the blonde girl continued stepping forward to follow her.

“Maya, I didn’t mean that.”

“But you said it.” Maya’s voice remained calm. Inside she was fuming, but she found that when she spoke she no longer had the same angry energy she did that night at the party. If she’s going to try to make me feel like shit, so will I, Maya decided bitterly. “I found out my dad cheated on my mom that weekend. The day after the party”

Another beat of silence. “What?” Maya scanned Paige’s face, watching her defensiveness mold into horror. Upon further inspection, Maya noted how Paige’s eyes looked especially tired, dark circles forming like clouds underneath them. “Maya, what are you-.”

“I called my mom because I was stressed about this whole COVID thing, was worried about my trip in April being cancelled. I asked her to visit me in Minnesota, and she said she couldn’t, and she wouldn’t tell me why until I begged.” Maya stared off, thinking about the way her mother, who she had never seen cry despite encouraging her daughter to embrace her emotions, had sounded so wounded as she explained why the divorce happened. It left an impossibly bitter taste on her tongue. “My dad started seeing his girlfriend two months before they broke up. She never told me until now to protect him. I don’t know if she ever would have.”

“I’m so sorry, Maya.” Paige’s voice cracked, speaking in a hushed voice as if speaking any louder would shatter the other girl. “Ion know what to say.”

Maya couldn’t help but roll her eyes, because of course she didn’t know what to say. “So I’m sorry if what you did to me is a little fresh right now.”

“Wait.” Paige called as Maya backed up, her regret evident.

“Can you please give me some space, Paige?” Maya is ashamed at how her voice breaks, her effort to remain strong through this conversation now all for nothing. Faking a cough, she muttered, “I think you’ve hurt me enough.”

She began to walk away when she heard her speak again. “I’m going to Maryland next week,” Paige said, her tone matter of fact. “Quarantining with Azzi for a bit.”

Paige had spoken about Azzi Fudd to Maya before, explaining just how similar they were and telling her that “Azzi will love you”, as if it was a given that the two would meet. She’s unsure if Paige would make such a statement at the moment. She knew the two of them were close, but quarantining together? Across the state?

“For how long?” Maya asked.

“It’s going to be at least a couple of weeks, maybe a month? I’m not sure.” A month? It’s not like she particularly wanted to see Paige right now, and there’s no reason Paige would go out of her way to tell her, but still. To hear Paige say it so matter of fact after everything they went through, as if she was the last to know, stung a bit in a way she was not anticipating. “I want to see you before I leave for UConn.”

Paige looked at her as if she wanted to ask if she wanted that too, but was too afraid of the answer. In a way, this reminded Maya of the first night they met; both unsure of how to talk to each other, exchanging stiff words and stares at the dinner table instead. Except now everything had changed.

With a small smile, Maya shrugged, “Anything’s possible.”

The buzz of her phone in her hand took her out of the moment, a reminder from her dad that they agreed on her being home by 7 (as if all COVID germs died after sundown). She shivered, her body numb not by the temperature but the prospect of what she was about to do. She took one last look at Paige; the way her blue UConn long sleeve paired with her blonde hair, her lanky figure that one fit perfectly with her shorter one, and those damn eyes.

“My dad says I need to get back home. Thank you for meeting me here. I, um, I hope you have a safe trip.”

She turned her back quick enough so that Paige couldn’t see the tears beginning to pour, beginning the 10 minute walk back to her home surrounded by the whistle of the wind and the setting sun. Something about it felt so final, like this would be the last time she would see Paige for a long, long while. Maybe ever.

⎯⎯

Paige stayed in Maryland for three months. Maya hadn’t even known she returned to the suburbs until she was already gone, posting stories from her first week at UConn. Not a text. Not a single word. The younger girl decided to mute Paige’s posts and stories at the end of the year, realizing that nothing good could come out of seeing the other girl supposedly live her best life at her dream school while she was stuck at home. Maybe Paige would reach out on breaks, and then Maya could reassess the situation.

She didn’t.

Quarantine was rough on her already, her house in suburbia not nearly as picture perfect as it seemed. She could barely look at her dad, using any excuse to leave dinners early or get out of “family activities” altogether (she refused to acknowledge Jenn as a part of her family). She hated how this curse put on women in her family kept following her. It was in the way she was now quarantined with her fathers affair partner, the same one he had been dropping hints about wanting to marry. It was in the way her mother pleaded with her on the phone to please not let this affect her relationship with her father, though how could it not?

The knife was dug deeper when she passed the prom dress collecting dust in her closet, remembering cheek kisses and hands brushing her shoulder like she was still in Paige’s bed buying it with her. When she began making grocery runs again, she had to make an effort to avoid glancing at the wall of flowers, as doing so would cause her eyes to prick with tears. Hell, she even had to remove multiple songs from her playlists, because of course they had to share the same taste. Songs that she had loved for years were now practically unlistenable.

Everything was a reminder of how she had done everything right, and yet she was somehow still not enough. Maybe she never would be.

#paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers fluff

109 notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 3 months ago

Text

i never let you go my dear / so keep talking 'cause i love to hear your voice

pairing: yang jungwon x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 572

notes: it's gonna be alright 손을 맞대 make a wish, happy jungwon day !! i hope you have the best birthday <33 i believe in blonde jungwon supremacy, cake is based on this one, just ignore that the candles are burning the entire time ig lol, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes <33, title from pierce the veil - yeah boy and doll face

the candles smell like a mixture of myrrh and smoke when they ignite, slowly beginning to burn away at the wicks. a pair of golden flames burn brightly as you toss the lighter aside, lifting the cake up from the plate it sits on. the edges are smeared with remnants of frosting - a sign of your baking inexperience.

your bedroom is silent when you return. rays of sunlight filter into the room, only partially blocked by the curtains hanging over your bedroom window. when you step closer, you can make out YANG JUNGWON’S still-sleeping body curled into your bed sheets. stray strands of blonde hair lay sprawled across your pillows. his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm; soft breaths occasionally escape his barely parted lips.

you smile softly, quietly taking a few steps closer. you toss jungwon’s phone onto your now empty side of the bed before placing the cake onto your bedside table. the dessert looks out of place, but you don’t mind.

“jungwon,” you whisper as you gingerly brush a hand through his overgrown bangs. your fingertips trail across his features, tracing along his defined cheekbones and lingering at the edge of his jaw. “baby.”

the man twitches at your touch but his eyes remain closed. you stifle a chuckle as you move to sit on the edge of the bed, now fully resting your hand against the side of his face. leaning down, you press a feather-light kiss against his cheek. then the bridge of his nose. his temple. his jaw.

jungwon stirs, squeezing his eyes shut as he whines. suddenly the light flooding into your bedroom is all too bright. he squints, blinking up at the ceiling multiple times as he waits for his vision to adjust to the daylight. his hands curl into fists as he rolls onto his back to stretch.

“good morning,” you smile, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face.

jungwon sighs in response as he twists to face you. “morning.” his voice is deeper and raspier than normal, still dripping with the remnants of sleep. “why are you up so early?”

“i was making you something,” you say, pulling the cake closer.

jungwon gasps. his jaw drops as heat floods to his face, tinting the tips of his ears a shade of light pink. “you made this?” he whispers. he tentatively reaches forwards, taking a moment to admire the sloppily applied frosting and uneven strawberries decorating the top.

tears threaten to prick at the corner of his eyes before he quickly blinks them away. jungwon’s arms find your waist, pulling you into his hold. you pretend not to hear the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. “thank you so much. i love it.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning in even closer to hide your face into the crook of his neck. you laugh loudly when jungwon begins placing faint kisses against the side of your neck; the ticklish feeling makes you squirm.

the smile still hasn’t left jungwon’s face when you finally pull away. his hands linger against your cheeks as he cups your face in his hands. “i love you,” he says.

“i love you, too. happy birthday, baby.” pulling away, you lift the plate, handing it over to jungwon. he only seems to smile even bigger when you lean in to press a faint, fleeting kiss against his temple. “make a wish.”

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out more enha imagines or enha reactions <3

130 notes · View notes

chronicdisasterwrites · 1 year ago

Text

alcohol isn’t for the weak gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru, shoko ieiri

genre + warnings: -underage alcohol consumption, a lot of swearing, reader slaps gojo around, pining, overall FLUFF!

word count: 3,380 (i was gonna write more but i’m lazy)

authors note: So this is the sequel of my fic “gotta keep these kids on leashes”. The dynamic quartet is back and up to no good yet again :3 There will for sure be a continuation and it just might end up being a series going through their lives. Also, this takes place before Riko and Toji, so basically their teenage days when everything was good and dandy :’)

enjoy this chaos <3

“You absolute, fucking lightweight.”

With tired bones, eyes, soul and mind, Geto’s glare remains steadily fixed on the drunken mess sprawled on the ground before him. Gojo Satoru was a complex human being. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world; the first person in 400 years to possess both Limitless and the Six Eyes, his strength knew no bounds - except when it came to alcohol.

“Suuuguruuu~” Gojo slurred along with several incoherent words mushed in between giggles.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Geto leaned his head against his ajar door and shut his eyes, thinking of all the incredibly painful ways by which he could murder and then dispose of his best friend’s wasted body. His anger wasn’t uncalled for, of course. It was a long day for Geto and all he wanted to do after spending an entire day killing one particularly difficult curse followed by a couple extra (albeit easier to defeat) surprise curses was take a nice long shower, go into his dorm and sleep like a corpse. He had a feeling it was too good to be true when he didn’t get 30 calls from Gojo by the time the sun had set and he had stepped into campus. He was even more surprised when he got out of the shower and came back to 0 notifications from the “pain in everyone’s ass” sorcerer. Gojo always knew when Geto had missions, and more so he would always know when Geto would be gone for the entire day. On days such as this one, he would usually go and bother literally anyone else he could find around him; when desperate, Yaga, but that would never end well for him, so that would only be reserved for very special occasions.

“Satoru, just why…” Geto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and wondering what he did to deserve this torture.

“I had soooo much fun t’dayyy,” Gojo slurs and laughs much too loudly considering the time.

“Les go out, the night is youuung like you and me and Mochi and Shoko- but…” He pauses, sits up then looks directly at Geto, suddenly serious. Geto squints, expecting something stupid as per usual.

“...Not like…” Cracks appear on his half-assed poker face and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as his lips twitch. “Not like…Yaga AHHAAHA-”

Laughter explodes from his chest as he falls back on the ground, rolling around clutching his stomach as if he just cracked the world’s funniest joke. Geto on the other hand, was not phased. In fact, he was preparing to be violent. Inhaling and then exhaling deeply, Geto stood straighter, thinking of ways he could make this night go his way. A few weeks prior to this moment in the present, Gojo along with his posse played an almost funny practical joke on Geto, which ended up costing him a date with a girl and 10 of his brain cells. Since then, Geto had been pondering day and night on exactly what he could do to get Gojo back. There were a few weaknesses the strongest sorcerer had which Geto knew of. One being, his obvious lack of alcohol tolerance, and two being his stupidly obvious crush on you. (not Shoko, although he definitely finds her hot).

Geto knows all about Gojo’s embarrassing feelings for you but he still has no solid evidence on whether the feelings are reciprocated or not.

Suddenly, his train of thought comes to a stop as his eyes glint with mischief. He grabs Gojo’s arm and starts to drag him along the hallway. Gojo doesn't even bother standing up to walk. Instead he lets his best friend drag him like a sack of potatoes, with no care in the world as to where he might be taking him.

“What the heck?! Suguru?! Where are we goin-”

They stop and Geto aggressively knocks on a door. Freshly painted, different from the rest. Immediately, he drops Gojo’s arm and sprints back to his dorm before Gojo’s little brain could even begin to process what had happened.

“Satoru…what the fuck?”

You rub your eyes and glare at the drunken mess sprawled before your dorm door and rub your eyes again, hoping he’d disappear the next time you look. He doesn’t. And you actually hear a mechanical click in your brain when the idiot starts grinning as if it wasn’t 3am and he didn’t just ruin your perfect slumber. Yet again.

“Mochi!!! You’re here! I missed yo- HEY! OUCH! WHY- STOP HITTIN ME-”

“I SHOULD KILL YOU-” slap

“IDIOT,” slap

“WHY CAN’T YOU EVER LET ME SLEEP IN PEACE?!” slap

You wanted to throttle him. But you figured 3 slaps were enough for now. You honestly felt kind of bad seeing him curled up in a ball on the floor and you worried whether you went too far or not.

“I’m sorry… I just missed you s’all,” His voice was soft, gentle even, and that made you feel even worse. Your shoulders slump and your head drops as an exasperated sigh escapes your mouth.

Why is he like this?

You crouch next to his curled up form and stare at his disheveled silver hair. He doesn’t look at you, in fact his eyes remain closed. His hands cover his ears and he literally looks like a kicked puppy and you feel so awful. You roll your eyes and sigh.

Ugh, damn him.

“Okay. Satoru, I’m sorry for hitting you.”

He doesn’t move.

You pinch your nose bridge and decide to take the high road. He is drunk after all, you think. Reaching out, you run your fingers through his soft hair. His shoulders relax at that and the corner of his mouth quirks up ever so slightly. You stifle a laugh at his childishness and grab his chin, tilting his head to face you. Finally, he opens his eyes and stares at you as a gradual, natural smile slowly takes over his face. You smile back and at the back of your mind, you think how stupid you two must look right now. In the middle of the night, your dorm door wide open, Satoru sprawled on the floor of the hallway, you crouched near his head while the two of you stared at each other like something straight out of Spiderman. Except, you won’t kiss him. That’s never going to happen.

You let go of his chin and flick his nose. He huffs a short laugh, rubbing the spot and attempting to return the favor. You grab his wrist before he could deliver the blow and say, “You still drunk?”

Satoru hums, eyes shiny, “A little?”

He grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, snorting as you glare at him.

“Y’know… you don’t look as scary with your face like this,” He emphasizes his point with ‘awww’s’ and ‘you’re so cuteee’s’ and you can’t help but laugh at this blatant humiliation. You move his hand away and stand up, holding out your hand and expecting him to take it.

“Alright, c’mon. Get up.”

Satoru groans much too loudly and proceeds to throw his arms down and stretch his legs like a starfish.

“Noooo, just stay w’ meee,” He whines like a petulant child and you smile.

Damn him.

You consider bringing him into your dorm and spending the entire night with him doing nothing. Maybe talking, laughing. But you quickly discard that horrifying thought. He’s Gojo Satoru. Your best friend. Nothing romantic could ever happen between you two because he is Gojo Satoru and you are nobody. He is the one person who could even come close to changing the world. He holds the balance of the universe in the palm of his hands. He is everything, and you hate that. You hate how much he means to you, and you hate how much he has on his shoulders. You hate the fact that you can’t even help him ease those worries. You might be strong, but you’re not nearly as strong as him. He knows it, everyone knows it. So, you ignore these feelings. You bury any semblance of hope, of potential ‘maybe’s’ and ‘what if’s’ and you keep your guard up. After all, he is your best friend and you’re his. That’s it.

But then, why does he keep looking at me like this?

“Mochi?” He mutters, eyes suddenly clear and gaze fixed at you. You hum. He waits a while without saying anything and then sits up cross-legged and holds his hand out. You ponder for a moment and eventually you hold his hand and he attempts to pull himself up with your help. You steady your feet and help him up and… wow, he’s ridiculously tall.

You clear your throat and let go of his hand, to which he makes a little noise of protest. You roll your eyes and put his arm around your shoulder, ushering him towards his dorm, “Alright Satoru, let’s put you to bed.”

He nods his head one too many times and starts to walk with you, slowly but surely. You held onto him as he held onto you, and you walked at his pace. He smelled nothing like he usually did. The pungent odor of sake wafted off him in waves and it almost made you want to throw up. He was dozing off, eyes almost shutting. Those cerulean blues were almost a shiny navy color now. You wonder what made him want to drink so much tonight. So you asked.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?” He looks down at you and musters a tiny smile. You hold his waist a little tighter.

You rephrase the sentence a few times in your head before asking.

“Why’d you drink so much tonight? Is everything okay?”

He stares at you for a while, then purses his lips and tips his head down, exhaling loudly. You know something happened, but you don’t know what it could be. Satoru was always an enigma. He was always an open book, and yet so mysterious at the same time. He always kept a smile on his face and always did the stupidest shit. Yet sometimes, he would change completely. His eyes would look sad and distant, he wouldn’t talk as much, he’d look out the window like some kind of tortured main character in an indie movie. Satoru was never easy to understand. He has his vices.

Finally, he looks at you with hazy eyes and a soft smile. Using the arm slung over your shoulder, he holds you in a headlock and kisses your forehead. You can’t see your face but you can feel just how red it must have become. You struggle to try to get out of the headlock but to no avail. Even when drunk, Satoru was still stronger than you and you hated that with a passion. He laughs and releases you, returning his arm back over your shoulder as he leans against you, basically using you as a crutch to walk.

“Satoru?! What the fuck was that all about?!” You sputter. Angry? Not really, it was nice. You’re more confused and freaked out, and why do you feel drunk when you’re the one who’s completely sober?

“No reason, you’re just cute s’all,” He giggles and ruffles your hair. You glare at his stupid face and he laughs again.

“Plus, I had nothing to do all day. Suguru was gone, you were busy and Shoko was-” He pauses. “Well, wherever she was.”

You sigh and pick up your pace which makes Satoru look like Bambi trying to walk on ice for the first time. He giggles all the way there.

—

Fucking finally…

You open the door to his dorm while dragging Satoru’s half limp body inside.

“Alrighty, now lie down,” You say as you gracefully lay him down (more like unceremoniously drop him) on his bed and take his shoes off. Satoru groans and proceeds to almost slip off the side of the bed. Thankfully, you noticed and pushed him further away and more towards the center of the bed. You leave his clothes alone and stand up straight, turning to leave.

“No, wait,” His hand grabs your wrist, without any force whatsoever and you think you’re going to straight up melt when you turn back around to see him looking up at you with ridiculously childlike eyes it’s not even fair.

“Stay, please.”

Your breath hitches and you know you have to leave. You have to wake up early in the morning and also you are not going to spend a night with Gojo Satoru while he’s drunk. It's not a matter of safety; you know he would die before ever hurting you. It was more a matter of heart.

“Satoru…” You try to wrench your hand free from his grasp.

He lowers his hand and wraps it around your fingers. His voice is quiet as he says, “A lil’ bit. ‘M sorry…”

You quirk an eyebrow in confusion, “For what?”

Your question is met with only snores. You shove him and call his name to which he opens his eyes with a “huh?”.

“What are you sorry for?”

He looks bewildered, “Oh um…”

You wait.

He continues sleepily, “For ruining your sleep.”

You chuckle as his hand slowly falls to the bed and snores fill the emptiness.

“Idiot.”

You pat his head and leave.

—-

Satoru wakes up very cold. And wet. Not in a good way.

“Woah- what the fu-”

“Rise and shine, princess,” Suguru announces with a shit-eating grin on his pretty face. He keeps the empty glass on Satoru’s side table and crosses his arms.

Satoru rubs his drenched face and stares incredulously at his so-called best friend, confusion etching his hungover face, “What the hell was that for?”

Suguru snickers, “It was for ruining my sleep last night.” He sits on Satoru’s bed and crosses his legs, resting his head on his hand, enjoying Satoru’s discomfort.

Satoru groans and puts his pillow on his face. His muffled voice says something Suguru makes out to be, “My head is killing me.”

“Not surprised, you were completely wasted.”

Satoru moves the pillow and glares at Suguru, to which he only receives a grin.

Suguru asks liltingly, “So? What happened last night?”

Satoru gets up and makes his way to his bathroom, the sound of water and teeth brushing resonating around the room. Suguru waits for a reply that doesn't come.

Impatient, he asks again, “Did you get your ass kicked?” Satoru gets out while putting on a new uniform jacket. He glares at Suguru until realization hits.

His eyes widen and he points a finger and exclaims, “You took me to her room?!”

Suguru processed that light bulb moment with wide eyes and burst into a hearty laughter to which Satoru only gaped mouth open and eyes unbelieving.

“You- you didn't remember how you got there but you remembered being there?” More laughter, louder this time.

Satoru scoffs and picks up his sunglasses, “I can't believe you…”

Suguru’s laughter dies down and he receives a slap on the back of his head for his incompetence. He laughs and rubs the site of injury.

As Satoru makes his way out of the dorm, Suguru follows close behind. He asks with genuine curiosity, “Did you confess?”

Nothing.

“Did she confess?”

Silence, except for the birds chirping cheerfully and the metronomic footfalls of the two boys.

Suguru sighs, “Did anything happen?”

Satoru puts on his sunglasses and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Nothing happened, as far as I remember.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow. Satoru rolls his eyes and says in a low voice, “Anyways, I'd remember if anything happened.”

Suguru smiles and ruffles Satoru’s already disheveled hair. He scoffs but laughs when Suguru laughs at his lovesick state of being.

“Forget it, Suguru. It’s never gonna happen,” Satoru mutters dejectedly, kicking a stone. Suguru stays silent.

“Like, she’s so… just- y’know?” His sparkling sapphire eyes glittering with admiration and so much love, Suguru can’t help but smile at his friend’s hopefulness. He continues rambling incoherently, hands waving around like it actually does anything to explain his feelings for her. In reality, nothing Satoru is saying makes any sense. Or more so, it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. Suguru, on the other hand, understands Satoru. So no words are required.

—-

“He’s such an idiot.”

You sigh and twirl your pen, “Tell me about it…”

Shoko knows all and sees all. She knows all about Gojo’s stupid crush on you and she knows all about your crush on him. She doesn’t approve of it, because she firmly believes you deserve better and Gojo is an immature idiot. But after countless sleepless nights of talking about life and love, she saw just how much you liked him, despite your lackluster denials to her allegations. You were adamant on hiding your feelings, even with Shoko. You don’t know why exactly you lied to her about this. Probably because it seems too out of reach, or maybe because you know she’d disapprove. But you know Shoko loves you with all her heart. She would support any decision you make, no matter how much she hates it. Your happiness is paramount and she will never make you feel less than or stupid for anything you tell her. You just can’t tell her about your crush yet, because it’s just too embarrassing and you can’t deal with Shoko’s side-eye.

Shoko closes the book she was reading staring at, kicks up her feet on the desk and crosses her arms across her chest. You look at her, then look at her neglected textbook and sigh, shifting your attention to your own textbook.

“Y’know you’ll never even pass at the rate at which you’re going…”

She says with a giggle, “Relax, will you? It’s just class tests.”

You muster your best side eye, to which she just snorts. She kicks back her chair and stands up, holding out her hand for you to take. You raise your eyebrows, silently questioning whether she’s serious or not.

“C’mon let’s take a break, we’ve been studying for hours.”

You put down your pen and cross your arms, properly facing her now, “You mean, I’ve been studying for hours.”

She shrugs, “That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan.

She actually laughs and tugs your sleeve, “Come onnnn.”

You sigh and hang your head. Shoko takes that as a sign to collect your items and pack them into your backpack and you know you’ve lost. You always lose to her arguments. She’s too quick and too laid back to ever lose an argument. Even when something really serious goes down, Shoko will be the last person to freak out. You can’t even argue with her because she’ll just come up with some random logic that you don’t even know how to counteract. You watch as she packs your stuff and you smile. She looks at you and smiles back, albeit in a confused manner.

“What?”

You shrug still smiling, “Nothin’.”

Shoko mutters a small “okay” and grabs your shoulders, hunching down to your eye-level and staring into your eyes with a kind of scary expression. Shoko has never been serious in her entire life, except for a few times when you made bad decisions.

“Listen to me, and listen well. I love you. I will always be here for you. Even if you and Gojo date and that doesn’t work out, you don’t have to worry about us, ever,” Shoko’s grip on your shoulders was ironclad.

Your eyes widen and face heats up furiously, “W-what? Where is this coming from?!”

“Because I am your best friend, you absolute braindead idiot! I know you. I don’t know why you’re not just coming clean with me but I’m here always, so come to me whenever,” she ends her monologue with a sweeter than sweet smile and stands up to her full height while you were down there stunned, touched and offended all at once.

You get up, put your bag over your shoulder and stare at Shoko concerningly, while she just grins.

What the actual fuck was that?

“Hey, let’s go get some food, I’m starving.”

You glare at her as she loops her arms through yours, “You’re paying.”

Shoko laughs, “No way. Gojo’s paying.”

taglist: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite, @mariapierce789

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #gojo x you #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #gojo geto shoko #shoko ieiri #geto suguru #sashisu

200 notes · View notes

pupslimes · 2 months ago

Note

now what if i presented to you → pervy best friend! charlie ◡̈

it’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on your bed, the glow of the tv casting soft shadows across the room. you’re wearing one of those stupidly cute outfits again—a low cut tank top that slips off one shoulder and those tiny shorts that ride up just enough to make charlie’s brain short circuit every time you shift positions. he’s trying to focus on the movie, he really is, but his eyes keep darting to you, to the way the fabric clings to your curves, to the way your chest rises and falls with every breath.

“you even payin’ attention?” you ask, glancing over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“huh? yeah, totally,” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. he’s been doing that a lot tonight, and you don’t seem to notice, which is both a blessing and a curse. he’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

you yawn, stretching your arms above your head, and charlie’s eyes immediately drop to the strip of skin exposed by your shirt riding up. he swallows hard, his face heating up as he quickly looks away. “i think i’m gonna head to bed soon,” you say, standing up and padding toward the bathroom. “you can let yourself out, right?”

“yeah, yeah, of course,” he says, his voice a little too high pitched. he watches you disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you, and he lets out a shaky breath. he should leave. he should. but his eyes drift to the laundry bin in the corner of your room, the one he’s been eyeing all night.

before he can talk himself out of it, he’s on his feet, quietly rifling through the bin. his heart pounds in his chest as his fingers close around a pair of your panties—soft, delicate, and unmistakably yours. he shoves them into his pocket, his face burning with guilt and excitement, and grabs his stuff, practically bolting out the door before you can catch him.

when he gets home, he doesn’t even bother turning on the lights. he locks his bedroom door, pulls your panties out of his pocket, and brings them to his face, inhaling deeply. they smell like you, sweet and intoxicating, and he’s already hard just from the thought of you wearing them.

he’s not gentle with himself, his hand moving furiously as he wraps the fabric around his cock, the sensation almost too much. he feels overstimulated in minutes, his hips jerking as he imagines it’s you touching him, your hands, your mouth, your—

he comes with a choked gasp, your name on his lips, his body trembling as he collapses back onto the bed. he’s a mess, panting and sweaty, your panties still clutched in his hand. he knows he should feel guilty, but all he can think about is how much he wants you, how much he always has.

and as he drifts off to sleep, your scent still lingering in the air, he can’t help but wonder if you’d ever let him have the real thing.

- cum

(did i just write an entire fic in your inbox? maybe.)

CUM HOLY SHIT??? I LOVE YOU???

you've got me wanting to write a part two because he stole your favorite panties specifically...

#pervy characters are a weakness #I obviously have a lot of those i say it every time someone submits something #pup howls

34 notes · View notes

grandlinedreams · 1 year ago

Text

|| that opening paragraph in HOBAS will haunt me for eternity. You know the one.

|| warnings: drug usage (mirthroot), shotgunning, suggestive, touch of jealous Ruhn, confession fic (kinda)

Truthfully, Ruhn doesn't know if you'll ever stop finding ways to surprise him. Your presence in his bedroom alone is one ㅡ the request you've just given voice to is another.

He blinks at you. "Repeat that?"

Your eyes narrow, and you huff in frustration. "I said I wanted to learn how to smoke," you tell him. "Don't look at me like that ㅡ is it that weird?"

"Honestly yeah," he admits. He wants to ask why you're suddenly interested ㅡ but the shadows that flicker in your expression keep him from prodding too deeply. Instead, he untangles himself from the bed and strides towards his dresser, plucking the neatly rolled bundle from it. It'd been meant for him, Dec and Flynn later ㅡ but surely they wouldn't mind. He'd bought this time around anyways.

"Okay," he says as he returns to you, watched you eye the way he twirls the bundle between his fingers with practiced ease before he lights it. "We're gonna try something, since you've got a virgin throat."

You scoff at his grin, hoping he doesn't catch the way you shift just a little at his wording. You watch embers flare, the sweet-smelling smoke that curls from it ㅡ and then to Ruhn as he brings it to his lips. The end lights up as he inhales, long and slow ㅡ and then he's gesturing for you to move towards him.

You expect him to blow the smoke in your face, but Ruhn takes it a step further. Instead, there's the cool press of his fingers at your jaw, coaxing your lips to part before his mouth is on yours.

It's not a kiss, not quite ㅡ but it sends your heart racing all the same as he exhales into your mouth. Ruhn pulls away, settling back to watch with a grin as smoke curls from your mouth. "Now we wait."

You understand why mirthroot is so popular. It winds sweetly around your mind, eases you into a headspace that's a little dizzier, untethered ㅡ and you like it. Being sprawled out on Ruhn's bed with his hand in your hair is something you like even more.

"So," Ruhn drawls as he tucks hair behind your ear, "mind telling me why you've decided to smoke now, of all times? I thought you were dating that goody-goody."

You can't tell if the bitter edge to his tone is real or imagined, and you groan. "I don't want to talk about him." You roll away, staring at the blurry blink of little lights strung around the top of his room. He watches you, and feels immediately like an asshole when you speak again, voice too soft. "We broke up."

"Bastard," Ruhn says, trying for solidarity even though he's more than a little relieved that you're no longer with the other male ㅡ he'd met him once, and the memory of encounter still pisses him off. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," you answer, rolling back to pillow your head in Ruhn's lap and sending his heart stuttering in his chest. It's entirely unfair that you're unaware of the effect you have on him, truly. "But he said that it wasn't fair to him for me to act like I want to be with him when it's obvious I don't."

Ruhn raises an eyebrow, drifting his fingers over your forehead and down your temple to cup your cheek, thumb sweeping against your skin. "He accused you of being interested in someone else?"

"Not an accusation if it's true," you mumble.

Ruhn studies you for a long moment. "It's not Dec or Flynn, is it?" He forces himself to ask, hates how it ignites that bitter, green-eyed monster's attention at the thought of you being with either of them. You shake your head. "Then who is it?"

Your eyes lock with his, reddened by the mirthroot you've indulged in. "You," you say, so quietly that Ruhn almost has to strain to hear you. "It's you."

Ruhn stares at you for so long that you're grateful for the smoke that still addles your mind ㅡ you can blame your confession on that, since he's ㅡ

Kissing you. Ruhn's mouth is on yours before you can register that he's moved. His lip ring is startlingly cold, but you can't bring yourself to care about much beyond the way his tongue is sliding into your mouth. It elicits a soft moan from you before he's pulling away to press his forehead to yours, panting softly.

"Thank fuck," he swears quietly, "I don't think I could take it if it was Flynn or Dec." He leans to pepper soft kisses against your cheek and the corner of your mouth, and you blink dazedly.

"Wait, so does that mean you like me too?"

Ruhn scoffs, amused as he kisses you properly. "I think it's a lot more than just liking you," he mumbles, "but yeah. Have for a while, thanks for noticing."

You nip at his bottom lip for that, reveling in the hiss and pinch to your side that he retaliates with. "So what now?"

"Now," he says as he gathers you into his arms and flops back against the bed, "we wait for the mirthroot to wear off. And then I'm going to ask you out properly. Sound good?"

You blink, then cuddle closer, listening to the way his heartbeat matches yours. "Yeah," you answer. "Sounds good."

#ㅡmine.#crescent city x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn x reader

189 notes · View notes

snootlestheangel · 10 months ago

Note

I would pay you my two kidneys for wolf!Simon licking and grooming otter!kyle

🫶

many please and many thanks

I won't take the kidneys but I'll take some cold chocolate cake to make me feel better about losing all the progress I had made very slowly throughout the day because now the first part is slightly different than it originally was supposed to be and I'm very upset now (which is why it ended up taking me like 2 weeks to get this done I'm so sorry 🥲)

Ghost definitely grooms everyone he can. He's learned not to lick Soap when he's shifted, otherwise he has to deal with a very upset bird. So what he does instead is lays his head down near where Soap is and sighs while licking his lips. Sometimes Soap will tease him by grooming himself, which usually leads to a husky level of dramatic tantrum. Nik and Price tolerate it, but Price laughs every time he sees their adopted daughter Bailey, a cat shifter, looking very angry with wolf slobber on her.

Granted, she's the one he's the most gentle with, and it's a form of bonding.

Enough yapping, here's the good soup.

Tagging @stuffireadandenjoy @bringinsexybackk69 (anyone else that wants tagged for this au please let me know. Even though this may not be an actual formal fic for a while its still gonna be something that stays consistent on my blog for at least a while)

The first time since the team's formation, the boys finally had some downtime. As shifters, they were familiar with the idea that the others would have different behaviors and quirks related to their respective species. It was rather easy for them to adjust to casual life together, yet for the most part, they still didn't understand where different boundaries were. Excluding their captain, they were all social creatures, yet bonded in different ways, and expressed their companionship in different ways. There was a good week where the sergeants and Ghost had awkwardly danced around each other as they learned individual boundaries.

Unfortunately for Gaz, Soap and Ghost had already formed a bond, something unique forged during their time in Las Almas. It wasn't surprising, actually. Gaz had heard stories of wild ravens and wolves forming close bonds, seeming friendships, and that sort of relationship was evident in Soap and Ghost. The two had quickly learned that Ghost didn't mind having his personal space invaded, much to Soap and Gaz's shock, and they learned Soap rather enjoyed sitting perched on Ghost any way he could. It was not an entirely uncommon sight to see a large Raven sitting on Ghost's shoulder as the lieutenant went about his daily duties.

But Gaz wasn't so lucky. He was an Otter, a seemingly oddball addition to the team. Bear, Wolf, and Raven all seemed to just work, it made sense. It's not like Gaz felt rejected, in fact he could see the desperation to include him on Soap’s face, the passing huffs from Ghost that Gaz never truly understood the meanings of.

So it's why Gaz was so grateful to have a space to himself where he could shift and take time for himself. The pool reserved for him was hidden away from the main portion of base, surrounded by a sprinkling of trees and a tall, thick fence for privacy. He spent a long afternoon doing laps around the pool, ducking through the tunnels placed inside, and jumping onto the platform along the far side. It kept him active, and after having been out of the water in proper otter fashion for far too long, it was stimulating. Something exciting and different from the dull thrum of life on base.

And nothing was better after a long afternoon swim session than heading to the nearby concrete pad and sunbathe after grooming himself. But as he approached his concrete pad, he noticed a glaring problem. A large Wolf was laying sprawled out on his side, soaking up every inch of sun.

Annoyed, Gaz ran up to Ghost's tail and lightly tapped it with his front paws, an annoyed squeal accompanying the action. The tail flicked but Ghost showed no other sign of acknowledging the otter's annoyance. So, Gaz moved on to attacking Ghost's large back paws, only earning a small grumble and slight kick. Desperation kicked in as Gaz hopped towards Ghost's head, and he jumped onto the Wolf's large head and nipped his ear. Ghost sat up with a start, and Gaz backed away to glare at the other as best he could. Gaz squealed and bobbed his head up and down in the most threatening way he could. Ghost stared down at him, mostly bored, before letting out a grumble, a yawn quick to follow. Gaz's efforts to chase him off must have been falling on deaf ears, or Ghost was lost in thought as he just watched the otter's antics. With a single swipe of his tongue, Ghost effectively silenced Gaz, pacifying him just like the otter were a wolf pup.

Gaz couldn't tell what made him angrier: the audacity Ghost had to treat him like a pup, or the fact it worked.

Gaz couldn't even think as Ghost continued to lick him. Well, lick wasn't the best term to describe the situation, it was more grooming behavior than anything else. And Gaz had quickly realized it had been too long since someone else had groomed him. He slowly curled against Ghost as the Wolf continued to groom him, using his teeth to gentle nibble Gaz's sore muscles. The repetitive motions were slowly putting Gaz to sleep, and he had rolled over onto his back. To think he had been so worried about fitting in with the other two's social circle, yet he had completely forgotten that he wasn't the only one to social groom. By the time his coat was dry, Gaz had fallen asleep between Ghost's front paws, and the Wolf had gently rested his head against the otter as he fell back asleep.

Gaz had nothing to worry about, after all.

#snootles's askbox #snootles answers #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #platonic ghostgaz #shifter au #cod shifter au #wolf shifter!ghost #otter shifter!gaz #otter!gaz #wolf!ghost

59 notes · View notes

lem0nade-gurl · 4 months ago

Text

Maddvi (Maddie x Vi) fanfic I’m making Bcs I love this shop with all my heart. I wanna know how to make this fic better so I’m gonna post it here for feedback ; also, this is only chapter 1 and 2 bcs chapter 3 is still a WIP, but if this does good ill finish it. Anyway enjoy ^w^!

Chapter I: “Hung Me Out To Dry”

Maddie had never ventured into the Undercity before—at least, not off duty. The place felt foreign to her, even dangerous, especially now, with the heavy tension lingering in the air since Ambessa and Caitlyn’s declaration of martial law. For a fleeting moment, she considered turning back, retreating to her cramped apartment in Piltover, and pretending this journey had never crossed her mind. But she couldn’t—not with what, or rather who, waited down here.

The echo of Noxian fists pounding against their chests had been too much to bear. Maddie had abandoned the scene to find Vi. She hadn’t seen her since Caitlyn had insisted on continuing the “Find Jinx” mission alone, claiming it would be better that way. Maddie hadn’t been convinced, and she hadn’t stopped worrying since. When she asked Loris if he had any idea where Vi might be, he had laughed, recalling how Vi, in a drunken haze, had overshared about her personal life—including, fortunately, her address.

And now here Maddie was, standing outside a three-story apartment building, narrow and weathered, tucked into the chaotic sprawl of the Undercity. She’d walked past it twice, dismissing it as abandoned before realizing her mistake. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d say when Vi answered the door. Professionalism didn’t seem necessary, but she still wanted to present herself with some degree of composure.

She pressed the third-floor doorbell. The faint chime echoed from above, strangely clear against the unnerving silence of the street. The wait stretched on, every second feeling heavier than the last. Maddie shifted her weight, wondering if she should try again. But then, a door creaked open behind her, snapping time back into motion.

Vi peered through a narrow crack in the door, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. When recognition hit, she opened it wider, her expression equal parts annoyance and surprise.  “You?” Vi’s voice carried an edge, though it lacked its usual bite. Maddie blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Were you expecting someone else?” she shot back, her tone laced with unintentional sass. Old habits died hard.

“What are you doing here? How did you even find me?” Vi demanded, her tone sharper now. “Loris told me. Apparently, you’re chatty when you’re drunk,” Maddie said matter-of-factly. “And I was worried about you.”

Vi’s scowl deepened, her eyes narrowing. “Worried? About what? I can handle myself, carrot top. Now beat it.” She moved to shut the door, but Maddie’s foot shot forward, wedging it open. “Caitlyn’s declaring martial law,” Maddie blurted, her urgency stopping Vi in her tracks. The name—or perhaps the situation—seemed to grab her attention. Maddie pressed on. “This might lead to a civil war.”

Vi scoffed, crossing her arms. “What does that have to do with me? I can’t stop a war.” “You can’t,” Maddie admitted, “but maybe you can stop its commander.” Vi’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering behind her guarded expression. Maddie took a breath, steadying herself. “Caitlyn might listen to you. If you can convince her to call this off... She was on the right path with you by her side, but then you left—”

“I didn’t leave,” Vi snapped, her voice cutting through Maddie’s words like a blade. Her gaze turned sharp, her jaw tight. “Caitlyn was the one who hung me out to dry.”

Maddie stared at Vi, her eyes wide with surprise. She hadn’t known that. It certainly wasn’t the story Caitlyn had told her when she returned to Piltover without the pink-haired woman by her side. The revelation left Maddie silent for a moment, but then she spoke softly. “Well then... she made a mistake,” Maddie said, her voice steady, almost soothing. “One she clearly can’t fix on her own. That’s why she needs you.”

Vi’s expression was difficult to read—or maybe it wasn’t. Maddie often found Vi’s perpetual scowl impossible to decipher, though it seemed to lean more toward anger than anything else. She decided not to press further. When Vi finally spoke, her words carried a weight Maddie hadn’t heard before.

There was something raw and unguarded in her tone. “I’m done trying to change people.”

Without waiting for a response, Vi turned her back on Maddie and started up the stairs. Maddie didn’t try to stop her this time. She remained frozen in place, listening as Vi’s footsteps faded, followed by the dull sound of a door closing and the distinct click of a lock. Maddie stood there, staring up at the empty stairwell. She told herself Vi would come around. People often said Maddie’s best—and worst—trait was her inability to quit. But even so, this encounter felt heavy, like she’d already lost.

Still, Maddie would try again. If not for Caitlyn, then for Piltover. And if not for Piltover, then for Vi.

——————————————————————————Chapter II: “Bringing Home a Champion”

Maddie squeezed through the rowdy crowd of ruffians and overly confident gamblers. She’d never understood the thrill of gambling—relying on luck, basing outcomes purely on chance, especially when money was involved. Draped in a dark red cape to blend into the chaos, she tried to mask her Piltover ties. But beneath the cape, her attire defined her. She wore a tailored brown vest over a crisp cream-colored shirt, paired with tan, wide-legged trousers. Despite how hard she tried, she still stood out.

Her destination loomed ahead: the pit. It had been her destination yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. She often wondered why she kept coming back. It wasn’t for the carnage, certainly—not to watch blood and teeth scatter across the floor like gruesome confetti. No, it was for Vi. Always Vi.

And as if summoned by the thought, Vi emerged from the shadows, streaks of black paint slashed across her face like war paint. She moved with purpose, her posture sturdy as she stepped into the arena.

The fight unfolded as it usually did. Vi dominated in the early rounds, racking up a winning streak as her fists met flesh with brutal precision. But by the later rounds, the injuries she’d sustained began to slow her down, leaving her vulnerable. Whether she won or lost came down to those final moments—a gamble in itself. That unpredictability, Maddie suspected, was what the crowd came for. Would she rise again, or would this be the match that took her down?

Tonight, Vi didn’t disappoint. With a devastating uppercut, she sent her opponent sprawling to the ground, unconscious before he hit the ground. The crowd erupted, a cacophony of cheers and groans as money changed hands. Maddie, for her part, felt no joy or frustration. She wasn’t here to win or lose. She was here for Vi.

“I should be honored,” Maddie thought wryly as she watched Vi regain her strength through the cheers with a stoic face. “I’m bringing home a champion.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Vi heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out beside her, the legs groaning against the pavement.

“Vodka, salted caramel, please.�� came a familiar voice.

Vi didn’t look up. She stared into her empty glass as the bartender began preparing the order. “Didn’t know you drank,” she said, her tone casual, almost indifferent. “What made you think that?” Maddie replied, nodding in thanks as the bartender slid her drink across the counter.

Vi shrugged, still not meeting her gaze. “Figured you could drink—just thought you’d be more into cocktails or something fancy. Never struck me as the vodka kind of gal.”. Maddie hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of her drink. “I don’t drink often. Only on special occasions.”

“Oh?” Vi finally glanced her way, an edge of sarcasm in her tone. “You celebrating something?”

Maddie caught it—a subtle jab, one that most people wouldn’t notice. But she’d spent enough time around Vi to recognize the layers in her voice. “Yeah,” Maddie said, a small grin tugging at her lips. “This is your fifth win in a row.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by Maddie’s attempt at enthusiasm. They both knew she didn’t exactly support Vi’s fighting “career”. If that’s truly what you’d call it. Scoffing, Vi leaned back in her chair. “Oh, so now you’re supportive?”

Maddie shrugged. “If you can’t beat em’, join em’ I suppose.” Maddie concluded, taking the last swig of her drink. “Okay,” Maddie sighed, getting up from her chair and leaving a few coins on the counter for the bartender. “Lets get you home while you can still walk in a straight line.” She encouraged Vi, definitely expecting some form of pushback. Vi groaned, “I can have a few more, I’m not a lightweight.”

“Fine, suit yourself,” Maddie said with an oddly calm voice, which grasped Vi’s attention. “I was just worried you wouldn’t be sober enough to appreciate the gift I brought you.” Maddie said in a defeated voice. Vi finally looked back at Maddie, who was now standing behind her.

She looked at her empty glass, then back at the woman who was staring at her with her eyebrows raised and her eyes expectant. Vi sighed, and put down a few coins on the counter before getting on her feet. “This better be good, Butterscotch.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. At first, Vi was convinced Maddie kept coming back because no one else could tolerate talking to her for longer than absolutely necessary. But eventually, she stopped questioning it. She began to grudgingly accept Maddie’s presence. They found a few common interests, and their conversations shifted—light, casual, sometimes even calming.

Spending time with Maddie didn’t feel tedious anymore. In fact, Vi started to look forward to it. If Maddie didn’t show up one day, Vi couldn’t shake the absence, carrying it with her until they crossed paths again. She didn’t even realize she was spending less money at the bar. Time seemed to slip away when Maddie was around.

Then came the night Maddie walked her home.

Maddie always walked Vi back to her apartment after nights at the bar, especially when Vi had slammed back one too many shots. That night was no different. But Maddie must have noticed Vi’s bad habit of forgetting to lock her door when she got home drunk, because shortly after Vi collapsed onto her bed, there was a knock.

It was Maddie, standing in the doorway with that exasperated, concerned look she often wore when dealing with Vi. “You shouldn’t go to sleep with the door unlocked,” she’d said firmly, like it was a lecture.

Vi, bleary-eyed and half-tangled in her bedsheets, was too tired to argue. “If it bothers you so much, just spend the night with me, then,” she muttered, waving a dismissive hand.

She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but the way Maddie froze in the doorway—and the way her cheeks flushed a deep pink—made Vi pause. Maddie looked surprised, maybe even intrigued. Vi was drunk, but not drunk enough to miss it. Flustered but quick to recover, Maddie stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

Nothing happened that night. Not really. But the tension in the air had been thick, charged, almost magnetic. Even in her drunken haze, Vi had felt it. She still remembered every detail as if it were yesterday—how Maddie looked in the slightly oversized shirt she’d borrowed, how Vi wished she hadn’t been so quick to agree when Maddie asked if she could sleep on the floor. She should’ve told her to stay on the bed.

Instead, they’d spent the night talking softly, sharing a few songs, and half-watching a movie before falling asleep apart from each other.

Now, walking side by side with Maddie under a vibrant sunset, Vi couldn’t stop thinking about that night. Maddie’s voice bubbled with excitement as she rambled on about the gift she’d gotten for Vi, her words brimming with pride and anticipation. Vi barely heard her.

It hit her, then and there. She didn’t want to miss her chance again.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Vi let herself sink into the moment. Maddie glanced up at her, her eyes sparkling with that unique mix of excitement and glee she always had when she thought she’d done something special.

When they reached the building, Vi nearly kissed her. The urge was there, strong and insistent, but she stopped herself. It would be better once they were inside. Together. Alone.

——————————————————————————

Okay that’s it :>

#arcane fandom #arcane show #arcane fanfic #maddie arcane #violet arcane #maddie x vi #vi x maddie #au fanfiction #tumblr fyp #i love them #they should kiss

24 notes · View notes

darkscrossfire · 2 years ago

Text

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 Part one

Pairing: Obsessive!James Valdez x reader

Warnings: Pain, death, mentions of drugs, fire, possibly arson.

Notes: I couldn’t stand back and watch as zero James Valdez fics were made. I vow to try and complete this series 🫡 Also this is a very long chapter, be prepared.

-> Next Part <-

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It infested my lungs. Burning me from the inside out and causing my vision to blur as if the devil himself had kissed my soul. My entire body was enveloped by the heat, my ears ringing. Debree beneath my skin was piercing, making my place sprawled across the floor painfully uncomfortable.

The bright light of the blazing flames filled the air, bright enough to make my eyes pinch in an attempt to try and adjust to the sight. The heat itself was enough to know that the entire warehouse had been enveloped in flames, but the sight of the inferno dancing in the night sky brought a shake across my entire body.

My attempt to stand was difficult, my knees weak beneath me. My hands ached, pressing against the floor, yet I found myself able to get upon two feet. My aching body curled in itself as I watched the embers continue to rise, not stopping once to spare any mercy. Warm tears spilt down my cheeks. What had I done?

My aunt Ana’s voice cried out to me, her arms wrapping around me as terrified sobs left her lips. Her hold was tight and painful, my limbs which already felt crushed becoming worse under her hold. A touch which was once of comfort how make me want to pull away out of fear of what she does not know.

The familiar sound of a car door shutting brought my attention away from the warehouse and towards the sight of James, stepping out his car. Horror covered his features, the flames reflected in his vision as it seemed to envelope his entire attention. His hand held loosely on the door, his lips parted. Guilt overwhelmed my entire being at the sight of his disbelief.

His eyes moved from the warehouse engulfed in flames to my petrified face. His eyebrows furrowed, a softness covering his face for a moment. Yet, beneath it all he senses something, and a knowing flashed across his face. As if he could read the guilt which burned within my soul. An unreadable expression crossed his face, and yet he stepped towards me, pulling me from my aunts grasp and tugging me into his arms. His hold was warm, the comforting kind.

His fingers tangled in the back of my hair, his breath tickling my ear. My tears stained his dark shirt, along with a few droplets of blood that came from the scratches I could feel all across my cheeks and forehead.

“It’s alright.” He whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

Yet I found myself unable to believe his words.

My feet were steady on the bottom of the railing, each foot slotted between the bars. It was enough to let me feel the breeze against my skin, slithering through my hair, without the complete danger of falling to my demise. Yet that danger still lingered. There was something so thrilling about having control of a danger in my life. My family’s business made any other danger impossible to control. The ever-looming threat of death was something I had grown used to, but not fond of.

I glanced down at the sight below me. Beneath the balcony sat the pool, the water deep enough to catch me if I were to fall but not enough to be completely safe. I would still likely crack my head open if I went in head first. It seemed like a fitting punishment.

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.” His deep, familiar voice cut through the air. I had not heard James come onto the balcony, but he was quite good at that. Being quiet. “You shouldn’t be standing so high, you could fall.”

I didn’t glance back at him, emitting a soft chuckle. “You scared you’re gonna have to explain to my parents why I did a cannonball into the pool and cracked my head open?”

He returned the soft chuckle, his figure stepping closer towards mine, possibly to ensure a safe distance in case an accident did occur. “Something like that. Maybe I just don’t want to miss tomorrow night. I heard there’s gonna be tequila.”

I had almost forgotten about tomorrow. My twenty-first birthday celebration. My parents insisted that it was important to invite every single person we know, even if we despise half of them. James tried convincing them that it might be dangerous to invite that many people, especially since Epifanios men are out there.

I let out a soft chuckle. “Pote would never let you touch the tequila.”

His figure moved to lean against the railing, a soft shrug emitting from his shoulders as he stared out into the night sky. “Maybe not, but he doesn’t have to know.” He said with a soft smile.

There was a moment of silence as we both stared out into the sky, my hands gripping into the railing. Although his eyes were gazing upon the stars that filled the sky, I could sense that he wanted to say something, and eventually his gaze turned towards me, his eyes scanning my features for a moment.

“Somethings wrong.” He uttered, tilting his head lightly.

I looked over at him, cursing that he could read me like a book. He’s known me long enough to tell whenever my mood shifts, even if it’s just a little bit. I softly shrugged, “I’m fine.” There was a truth to that, physically I was fine, but my mind was filled with the memory of fire. A nightmare my brain could not erase.

His eyebrows softly furrowed, knowing that there was a lie entangled in my words. He tapped my elbow with his fingers, “Talk to me.” He murmured.

I didn’t meet his gaze, softly shrugging once more. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. My lips parting as if to speak. My words were caught in my throat. I wanted to tell him. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad.

“Is this about the fire?” He asked.

My chest tightened. Like a book.

I met his gaze, warm tears filling my eyes. His expression softened and he stepped closer to me, his hand placing on my forearm as he gazed up at my figure.

“It wasn’t your fault. You just happened to be there when Epifanios guys attacked.” He uttered, his eyes filled with intensity.

My lips parted, soft breaths escaping as I tried to speak, my head softly shaking. Just tell him. He’ll understand. Yet the memory of the way he’s handled past acts of sabotage caused a nauseous tug in my stomach.

I hesitated for a moment. “..James-“

My words were cut short by the sound of his cellphone ringing within his jean pocket. He turned his attention away from me, his eyebrows furrowing as he fished it out, taking a moment to read the name across the screen. My eyebrows furrowed in return, my chest aching. I decided to keep my words to myself.

“Shit.” He whispered, turning his back to me as he pressed the phone to his ear. He didn’t seem to focus on me any longer as he stepped away from the balcony, disappearing through the balcony door at the same time my mother appeared onto it, her eyes paying no attention to James.

I quickly blinked away the tears that had formed in my eyes, not wanting my mother to pry. She couldn’t afford to pry.

Her hands were pulling at the apron that was wrapped around her waist. She let out a small sigh, “There you are. Your uncle has just arrived, already so determined for dinner.” She spoke, a lightness to her voice, but her expression turned to a scowl as she realized where I was standing. “Get away from there! One day you’re going to give me a heart attack, you know that?”

I quickly stepped off the bottom of the railing, moving away from it to ease her panic. “Sorry.” I uttered.

She dismissed it with the wave of her hand, turning to step back through the balcony doors. I followed a few feet behind her, glancing back at the balcony for a moment before shutting the balcony door and retreating from my room.

Across the dinner table, I could sense a strange tension that my mother seemed unaware of. My uncle Jose’s eyes seemed to be burning holes into James’ soul, an anger lying beneath the surface. James didn’t reciprocate this expression, simply staring blankly back at him as my mother spoke into the air.

“Spencer thinks he may have found evidence that it was Epifanio that started the fire. Well make sure that Cabrón pays.” She said bitterly.

My heart began to softly pound in my chest, my focus entirely on my food as I tried to pretend that I didn’t feel guilt pouring out of my ears. The cutlery in my hands stilled, my stomach tightening. I had to move, to say something, something to make me not look so suspicious.

“What.. what did they find?” I asked.

“A lighter.” Uncle Jose spoke, his voice hard as his gaze was still entirely on James. “With the engraving of a bull on it.”

My heart felt like it stopped in my chest. My hands still couldn’t move and I still didn’t meet their eyes. My eyes pinned to the table. My heart began to pound faster in my chest. Although their gazes were upon each other, it felt as though their eyes were on me.

My lips softly parted in a moment of pause before I softly uttered. “How do you know it’s him?”

My mother scoffed, “All of Epifanios personal items are marked with that bull.”

The lighter belonged to Epifanio?

My eyes slowly trailed over to James, staring at the side of his face as realization dawned upon me and my stomach felt like it had dropped to my feet. His eyes met mine and we stayed like that for a moment, my expression unable to truly hide the horror that lay behind.

He didn’t say anything, simply uttering.

“Finish your food, it’s gonna get cold.”

I knew it was wrong, but curiosity got the best of me. I had to try it, even just once, to see what all the fuss is about.

I quietly snooped through James’ room, knowing that he kept his cigarette and lighter somewhere in his room. He was busy downstairs with other men, trying to uncover something important. I never knew the details, he never lets me know.

I shuffled through the top drawer of his desk, shuffling items around before my eyes widened at the sight of a gun inside. I quickly and quietly shut it, not wanting to mess with that. I had never held a gun and I didn’t plan to any time soon. I began looking through another drawer.

A small smile crawled on my face at the sight of the lighter and cigarette tucked in the second drawer. I quickly pulled a cigarette out of the box, taking the lighter before shutting the drawer and quickly sprinting out of James’ room.

His voice was echoing from the bottom of the stairs as he spoke to one of the men who he was working with. Listening out for a moment to make sure that his entire attention was on the man before him. It was.

I managed to sneak back to my own room, shutting the door and letting out a soft relieved sigh that I had managed to do all of that without being seen.

I slipped out onto my balcony, placing the cigarette between my fingers as I attempted to open the lighter with one hand. I had never done this before and was simply mimicking what I had seen others do, what I had seen James do.

I placed the cigarette in my mouth, going to flick the metal lighter open but pausing at the intricate design that had been engraved on the front.

A bull with large horns and roses surrounding it in a beautiful pattern. I traced my thumb across the detailing, wondering where James got this lighter from. Probably from one of his travels across the country.

As I began trying to light the cigarette, the sparks flickering in the night air. James’ voice rang through the air, his figure pushing my curtain to the side as he stepped out onto my balcony.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s late.”

I plucked the cigarette out from between my lips and placed the lighter and the cigarette behind my back as I quickly faced him, letting the cigarette fall from my fingertips and off the balcony. I couldn’t let the lighter drop, it would be far too noisy and far too obvious, so I kept it behind my back with it tightly held in my hand.

“I was just looking at the sky.” I quickly spoke. How did he know I was out here?

He softly smiled, lightly shaking his head and he folded his arms. “You need sleep.” He motioned with his hand. “Inside, c’mon.” He turned away from me, expecting me to follow him, to which I did with the lighter still held behind my back.

I turned my attention back to my plate, slowly shoveling another forkful of rice into my mouth with a shaky hand as I tried to make sense of my realization.

It wasn’t possible. James loathed Epifanio.

Yet something in Uncle Jose’s gaze told me that my suspicion might be correct. The way he spoke of the bull in an almost accusing tone. He was right about who the lighter belonged to, but not about who he suspected started the fire. My mother still seemed all too unaware of the way he tore into James with his eyes.

After dinner I found myself ushered into my room by James all too early with the excuse of needing to get a good amount of sleep for tomorrow night. I didn’t want to go to sleep, my mind was all too plagued with the confusion of why James had the lighter. My mind wouldn’t accept the possibility of James being under Epifanios order.

I tried tucking myself into bed and putting myself to sleep, but something inside of me refused to fall to slumber. My hands clenched the blanket around my body in annoyance. My brain kept jumping back and forth over the topic of the lighter, refusing to accept what was an obvious truth.

I tried to press the thought away, telling myself it was ridiculous and that James would never betray my mother like that.

The sound of arguing stemming from James’ room made my eyes snap open, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion as I slowly sat up. I could hear that it was James and my uncle, but their words came out as a muffled mixture of noise. I knew it was wrong to invade like this, but I couldn’t help it, especially not after my realization at the dinner table.

My curiosity influenced my movement and I was unable to stop myself from slipping out my bed and quietly stepping out of my room. My feet made quiet steps towards James’ room as the sound became louder and the words being uttered between the two became increasingly audible.

“You think they’ll fuckin’ believe you?” James spat.

“You over her own brother? What a fucking laugh.” Uncle Jose spat in return.

“I have done more for this family than you have. While you were away dealing cocaine in Malta, I was here protecting them. I stopped that shootout in Dallas.” James voice hissed through the air.

I slowly stepped forward. The cold tiles beneath my feet were enough to stop me from being heard as I was able to lightly step on it. My footsteps could be very quiet when I needed and this moment was dire.

I stepped closer to the door, my gaze quietly peeking through the gap in the door, it providing the only stream of light into the hallway. I tried to quiet my breathing, watching the two argue within James’ room. James was stood by his desk, his arms folded as his usual stance. Uncle Jose was stood a few feet away from him, his finger accusingly in the air.

“The only reason i’m not taking your ass down right now is because of her. I don’t want to ruin tomorrow night. Not when we’ve been planning this for months. I won’t let you ruin anything else for my princesa.” Uncle Jose lectured.

James returned the angered glare. “Everything i’m doing is for her.”

Were they talking about me?

I couldn’t pull my eyes away, watching the two argue. I had never seen them like this before. Just a week ago they were laughing together with beers in their hands at my mothers get together. Yet now, they seemed to despise one another.

“You’re going to ruin her life. The moment they connect that lighter back to her, there’s nothing you can do to save her. No one’s going to spare her, not even me.”

My heart dropped. My own uncle just admitted to not caring if I was murdered. I wanted to step away, to get far away from here, but I couldn’t move. My body was stuck, my blood struck cold in my veins. Warm tears were pooling in my eyes, obscuring my vision.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way. I can pin all of it right back onto you. One call is all I need to get evidence of you working for Epifanio from an inside detail from one of his men. Unfortunately for you, Epifanio keeps records.” Uncle Jose spoke.

A part of me felt relieved, as if I was glad he did not want to bring harm to me but it was quickly replaced by the realization that he’d use James as a sacrifice to spare me from the murderous clutches of the cartel world. Neither were what I wanted. I felt guilt for putting James in this position. A part of me wanted to burst into James’ room and beg Uncle Jose to give me up, just please don’t hurt James.

“You won’t do that.” James spoke calmly.

Uncle Jose scoffed, “Oh yeah, and what makes you so sure?”

I watched through blurry eyes as James turned away from Uncle Jose, his figure stood in a way that blocked me from seeing what it was he was doing. Yet my answer came quickly as James turned around and the sight of a gun with a silencer attached to the end held tight in his grasp became clear.

Before Uncle Jose could speak another word, James lifted his arm faster than I could blink and the sound of a gun shot rang through the air, the silencer on the gun deafening the gunshot enough to stop it from echoing through the entire house.

I was unable to stop the quiet gasp that fell from my lips as blood splattered across the opposing wall, covering it like nauseating artwork. Uncle Jose’s figure fell to the floor with a sickening thud, his empty eyes staring at the ceiling with an everlasting expression of fear, a dark red stream running down his forehead. An terrifying silence filled the air.

James’ figure quickly stepped over his body, crouching down to snake his fingers into Uncle Jose’s pocket, slithering around before pulling out his cellphone and stuffing it into his own pocket.

I pressed a shaky hand to my mouth, unable to stop the warm tears that spilt down my cheeks, clearing my vision and allowing me to see the sight before me, the sight of my uncles corpse just laid across the floor as crimson began spreading around him.

James was staring right at me through the small crack of the door. His figure now stood and holding the gun in his hand as tightly and with as much determination as he had before. The expression across his face brought a chill down my spine.

My face fell and I quickly stepped away from the door, sprinting as quietly as I could down the hallway and towards my own bedroom. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breathing heavy as I slipped inside of my room and quickly crawled into my bed.

I pulled the covers up, trying to place myself as if I had been sleeping all along, but my body was far too rigid of a person who was actually asleep. I tried to calm myself down but it was futile, my body in a complete state of panic.

My heart was the only sound I could hear. My skin felt both ice cold and burning hot at the same time, as if unable to process how to react. My brain seemed to be following the same motions, my brain entirely blank yet filled with thousands of thoughts at the same time.

My door quietly and slowly opened. The dim light from outside flooding the room and providing a barely visible silhouette of James. I could feel the way he was watching me, the intensity. My heart was pounding in my chest, waiting for him to step into the room and place the silencer to my temple, sending me to the same fate that he did Uncle Jose.

I expected him to step into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving me to anticipate where his figure was in the lonely dark before he executed me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just stood there for what felt like an eternity as my heart thrummed in my ears. There was a long moment of silence before he eventually took in a long breath and stepped away, quietly shut the door behind him, filling the room with darkness once more.

My eyes shot open, a shaken breath falling from my lips. My entire body felt frozen, unable to move. All I could do was stare at the opposing wall with the memory of what I had just seen playing in my head like a horror movie stuck on replay. This one was more terrifying than any other horror movie I had ever seen.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Go to sleep. It’s just a nightmare.

Go to sleep.

Just fucking go to sleep.

I couldn’t.

For the entire night, I lay awake with my eyes pressed shut in an attempt to wipe away the sight of Uncle Jose’s lifeless figure. Whispers of sleep kissed my being but I never managed to fall into it entirely, always jolting awake the moment I was on that edge.

I found myself fearing the morning, not wanting to see what lay before me when I would eventually be forced to leave the confines of my room. I worried that my mother would be next to have a bullet in her skull at the hands of James and that I would find her lifeless in her own bed. Perhaps I would be next.

The man I had trusted the most had suddenly become someone I deathly feared. My source of protection had now become my danger and there was nothing I could do but watch.

Tag List

@i-dont-know78

@drownedpoetess

@thedncingclown

@bluewingedangel

@aominewryne

@rcmupout

@thewayilovedjay

#james valdez #james valdez x reader #dark!james valdez #dark!james valdez x reader #james valdez au #queen of the south #queen of the south au #qots #peter gadiot #peter gadiot x reader #shanks #shanks x reader

197 notes · View notes

hello-anchan · 2 months ago

Text

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/156594694

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: Shen Jiu’s mind spun, and for a moment, he couldn’t think. But the truth was, he didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to question it. It was a feeling that rushed through him with such force that it left no room for doubt. Trust, unwavering and certain, flooded him.

I trust him.

Chapter 7/15

The Qing Jing Peak training grounds were a disaster zone. Disciples were sprawled across the dirt, groaning in unison as Ace stood in the centre, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He twirled a bamboo practice sword like it was a twig.

"Y’all weren’t bad," Ace said, grinning like he hadn’t just wiped the floor with the entire group. "But next time, try aiming for me instead of waving your swords around like you’re in a stage play."

A nearby disciple, clutching his bruised shoulder, groaned, “We were aiming for you…”

Luo Binghe, the last one standing—or rather, wobbling—tried to square his shoulders. “I… I’ll take you down this time, Ace-ge!” he declared, gripping his sword tightly.

Ace’s grin widened. “That’s the spirit, little guy! Bring it on.”

Luo Binghe launched forward with a battle cry, his strikes faster and sharper than any of the others. For a moment, the watching disciples held their breaths. Luo Binghe was quick, relentless—but Ace weaved through his attacks effortlessly, like he was dancing.

“Nice moves!” Ace said, dodging a particularly sharp swing. “But you’re still telegraphing your next—”

Before he could finish, Luo Binghe made a feint and lunged, his blade aimed straight for Ace’s unguarded side.

Ace caught the sword with his bare hand. “—attack,” he finished, laughing as Luo Binghe froze, wide-eyed. “Close, though. Real close. You’re gonna be dangerous one day.”

Luo Binghe flushed bright red as Ace ruffled his hair with his free hand. “Keep practising, beast. You’ve got potential.”

Then he turned to survey the carnage. "Well, that was fun," he said, hands on his hips.

The disciples groaned in unison, a few muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Get him away from us.”

It had been barely over a week since Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu had left for his meditation retreat to the Lingxi Caves, and already, his disciples were on the verge of collapse under the relentless demands of this brutish tyrant.

The inside of the Lingxi Caves were as eerie as Ace expected them to be. The pathways twisted like the coils of a snake, the walls glistening faintly with moisture. He trailed his fingers along the cold stone, muttering to himself, “This is the last time I trust a kid to give me directions.”

Ning Yingying had been only too happy to show him the way to the caves, giggling the entire time about “reuniting two destined lovers”. He hadn't bothered trying to figure out who or what she was talking about—probably one of those girl things that always flew over his head.

Ace wasn’t worried about Shen Jiu. Probably. Maybe a little. Okay, maybe more than a little.

But!

That wasn’t the only reason why he was here, trudging along the claustrophobic, winding paths. Ace was bored out of his mind. Weeks stuck at Qing Jing Peak had left him restless. This whole seclusion thing Shen Jiu was doing sounded important, but Ace couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone could spend so many days cooped up in a damp cave. Didn’t the guy want to stretch his legs or something?

He ducked under a low-hanging rock.

This was the perfect opportunity to do some exploring—check out the caves, see what all the fuss was about, and maybe even drag Shen Jiu along with him. He could tell him about his plans to explore outside the peak, maybe wander into the forests. Anything to shake off the monotony.

“Man, I told him I wouldn’t cause any trouble,” he said, stepping over a small puddle. “But he can’t scold me if I came all the way here to tell him first.”

The sound of swords clashing abruptly echoed through the cave, jolting him from his thoughts. Shouting followed—familiar shouting.

“Shit.” Ace’s stomach dropped and he quickened his pace towards the noise. The echo made it hard to pinpoint the direction, but the growing volume led him to a narrow path.

And there he was.

Shen Jiu, his robes in disarray and streaked with dirt and blood, stood his ground, wielding his sword with one hand while dodging the furious strikes of a man with long, dishevelled hair. The man’s blade cut through the air with terrifying precision, though his movements were wild, unrestrained. Ace didn’t need to know much about cultivation to notice that there was something wrong with the bulging veins under the man’s skin and the feral look in his eyes.

“Chu! You okay?” Ace shouted, sprinting closer.

Shen Jiu’s head snapped toward him, his expression flashing between surprise and fury. “You—! I told you not to—Get out of here, you idiot!”

Ace ignored him, his focus on the attacker. “Who the hell is this guy?”

The man—definitely not in his right mind—turned his gaze to Ace, and for a moment, Ace froze. The guy was… a girl? No, he’s definitely a guy. Was everyone in this world just ridiculously pretty? The thought evaporated as the man snarled like a beast, swinging his blade. Ace’s body ignited instinctively, and the blade sliced harmlessly through the flames.

“The Bai Zhan Peak Lord!” Shen Jiu replied, his tone sharp with panic. “He’s in qi deviation—don’t provoke him!”

“Well, too late for that!” Ace barked, ducking under another swing.

“Focus, Liu Qingge!” Shen Jiu snapped, diverting the man’s attention back to himself. “It’s me, you fool! Get a grip!”

The intensity of Liu Qingge’s attack surged, his strikes becoming heavier and more relentless. Shen Jiu cursed under his breath as he sent small bursts of energy to disrupt Liu Qingge’s rhythm. But it wasn’t enough.

Ace could feel the pressure—the raw, suffocating energy rolling off the peak lord. It wasn’t just an ordinary fight; this was a man teetering on the edge of destruction, dragging anyone in his vicinity along for the ride. As Liu Qingge raised his blade for a devastating strike, Ace clenched his fists and roared. “Enough!”

The air shifted, heavy and electric. A wave of overwhelming presence exploded from Ace, radiating outward in an instant. Shen Jiu staggered back, eyes wide as the force washed over him. Liu Qingge froze mid-strike, his blade trembling in his grasp before falling from his hands with a dull clang. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious but breathing steadily.

For a moment, the cave was utterly silent, save for the sound of dripping water.

“What was that?” Shen Jiu’s voice broke the stillness, quiet but laced with awe and suspicion.

Ace blinked, his chest heaving. “Uh…” Conqueror’s Haki. He was certain of it. “Did I do that?”

“You—” Shen Jiu pointed a trembling finger at him. “What did you just do? That wasn’t spiritual energy—what was that?!”

“Beats me,” Ace shrugged. “I just really wanted him to stop swinging that sword around.”

“Really wanted—” Shen Jiu looked at him like he’d grown another head. “You just knocked a peak lord out of qi deviation! That’s not normal!”

Ace glanced at Liu Qingge, now lying in an unsettlingly peaceful heap on the ground. “Huh. Is he gonna be okay?”

Shen Jiu unfolded his fan with a sharp snap and flapped it at Ace’s face. “You should be the one explaining that! How did you—how is this—ugh!” He whirled away, pacing furiously. “You’re impossible!”

“Aw, come on, Chu, I just saved your ass!” Ace teased, stepping closer. “No ‘thank you’?”

Shen Jiu froze, then rounded on him, eyes narrowed. “If you ever dare use… whatever that was near me again—”

“Yeah, yeah, save the threats for later,” Ace interrupted, bending down to pick up Liu Qingge and his sword. “We should probably get this guy somewhere safe before he wakes up and tries to skewer us again.”

Shen Jiu glared at him for a long moment before his shoulders sagged in resignation. “…Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

“Looking forward to it!” Ace grinned, hefting the unconscious peak lord onto his shoulder like he weighed nothing. “Lead the way, boss.”

Shen Jiu scowled but didn’t argue. Ace followed with a spring in his step, the strange tension from earlier dissipating as quickly as it had come.

—

Shen Jiu had told Ace that he would be away for a while to go on a meditation retreat. He’d firmly stressed that he was not to be disturbed. Ace could have his fun sparring with the Qing Jing Peak disciples while Shen Jiu dealt with his cultivation breakthrough.

The Lingxi Caves were a place of serenity and stillness, thrumming with natural qi. Shen Jiu sat cross-legged in its depths, his breathing steady, his mind focused entirely on the intricate flow of qi within him. He was so close—so close—to that elusive breakthrough. The kind of strength that could solidify his position, protect his place, keep his nightmares at bay.

The world seemed to blur as he concentrated, every distraction fading into nothing. His body grew lighter, his senses sharper, and then—like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place—the barrier shattered. A surge of energy rippled through him as his cultivation level advanced, his core stabilising in its newfound strength. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Shen Jiu allowed himself a small, victorious smile.

Then came the sound.

A muffled thud. A low, guttural groan.

His eyes snapped open, the golden glow of his breakthrough dimming as he turned his attention towards the cave’s entrance. He unfolded himself with precision, grasping his sword as he rose.

Stepping carefully down the winding path, Shen Jiu’s sharp ears picked up the sounds of laboured breathing and the scraping of boots against stone. He rounded the corner—and froze.

Liu Qingge.

The Bai Zhan Peak Lord was doubled over, his hands trembling as he gripped his sword. His veins bulged unnaturally, his eyes a feral red. Qi deviation. Shen Jiu’s breath hitched. He’d seen it before, of course, but never in someone so powerful.

“Liu Qingge,” he called out, cautious but firm. “Snap out of it. You’re stronger than this.”

Liu Qingge’s head jerked toward him. The snarl that tore from his lips was inhuman, his blade rising with terrifying speed as he charged.

Shen Jiu leapt back, pulling out Xiu Ya to deflect the strike. The force rattled his bones, but he held firm, sending out a burst of energy to push Liu Qingge back. The man barely stumbled, his next strike already in motion.

Shen Jiu sidestepped, his sword slicing a thin barrier of qi between them. “Damn it, Liu Qingge!” he hissed, his mind racing. He could run. He should run. But—

His fingers tightened around Xiu Ya. He wouldn’t.

I can help him, he told himself. I helped Ace, didn’t I?

But as he tried to reach out with his qi, sending thin tendrils toward Liu Qingge’s chaotic core, the response was immediate and violent. Liu Qingge’s qi pushed back, sharp and furious, lashing at him like a wounded beast. Shen Jiu gasped, coughing as the backlash surged through him, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth.

Blood splattered onto the stone floor.

No, Shen Jiu realised bitterly, his chest heaving. Ace was different. He was…pliant, open. He didn’t know enough to fight me.

Liu Qingge’s sword slashed toward him again, and Shen Jiu barely managed to parry, the impact sending him skidding back.

I can’t save him, Shen Jiu thought, despair creeping in. Of course I can’t. I haven’t changed. Who did I think I was?

Liu Qingge advanced, his attacks relentless. Shen Jiu’s limbs ached, his vision blurred.

This is it, he realised grimly. He was going to die here. He would die, and all of his work—everything he had built to claw his way up—would be for nothing.

No.

A spark ignited in his chest. He tightened his grip on Xiu Ya, resolve hardening. He couldn’t die. Not yet. There was someone he could return to.

Someone who gave him hope.

Shen Jiu’s hand trembled as he raised his sword, its sharp edge glinting in the dim light. If he couldn’t save Liu Qingge, then he could only—

“Chu! You okay?”

The voice rang out, clear and brash, cutting through the tension like sunlight piercing through storm clouds. Suddenly, Shen Jiu felt like he could breathe again.

—

Shen Jiu and Ace emerged from the cave, the outside air calming after the chaos they had just experienced. Liu Qingge’s unconscious body hung limply between them, but their moment of brief respite was interrupted by a sudden, frantic shout.

“Shen-shishu! Shen-shishu, demons are attacking Qiong Ding Peak!” The voice was urgent, breathless, and as Shen Jiu turned, he saw a Qiong Ding Peak disciple, their face pale with fear, dashing towards them. “They came while the Sect Master was away for a meeting with the other sects!”

Ace stood up straighter, his eyes flashing with eager intent. “Demons, huh?” he said, cracking his knuckles with a nonchalant grin. “I’ll deal with them.”

Shen Jiu barely had time to react before Ace shoved Liu Qingge’s limp form into his arms, leaving him no choice but to catch the peak lord in his hold. “Wait—” he began, but Ace was already moving, brushing past him with an almost casual air.

“Trust me,” Ace said, his voice laced with an unusual seriousness.

Shen Jiu blinked. “You’ve never fought demons before,” he called after him, his words hanging in the air like a warning.

But then Ace was suddenly turning back to face him and oh—Ace’s hand was on his cheek, warm—no, hot—a fierce, almost burning pressure as Ace gently wiped away a streak of blood that had marred his lips during the fight with Liu Qingge. The touch was strangely tender, and Shen Jiu froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Ace didn’t pull away immediately. He let his palm linger against Shen Jiu’s skin, and for a split second, it felt like the world itself had stopped. The heat from Ace’s touch seeped through the fabric of Shen Jiu’s robes, spreading warmth that had nothing to do with the physical sensation and everything to do with the way it made him feel…safe.

“Trust me,” Ace repeated, his voice softer this time, coaxing.

Shen Jiu’s mind spun, and for a moment, he couldn’t think. But the truth was, he didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to question it. It was a feeling that rushed through him with such force that it left no room for doubt. Trust, unwavering and certain, flooded him.

I trust him.

It was an absurd thought. This man, this strange, fiery intruder, had come into his life as if summoned by the very flames of chaos—and yet, here Shen Jiu was, holding onto a trust he couldn’t even explain. But somehow, it was there, undeniable.

And so, Shen Jiu nodded, his gaze hardening with resolve. “Fine. But don’t do anything reckless.”

Ace flashed a grin, turning to leave. “Reckless is my middle name.”

Shen Jiu rolled his eyes but didn’t stop him. He glanced down at the unconscious Liu Qingge in his arms. With a steadying breath, he lifted the peak lord’s body more firmly, feeling the weight of the task ahead.

Turning back to the disciple, he issued quick instructions. “Get the other disciples to safety—evacuate to the nearest secure chambers. And inform the other peak lords about the attack immediately. I need to take your Liu-shishu to Qian Cao Peak for treatment.”

As the disciple dashed off to carry out his orders, Shen Jiu pressed his palm to the hilt of his sword, feeling its familiar weight as he pulled it out and mounted it with swift precision. With a fluid motion, the sword leapt into the air beneath him, carrying him forward.

—

Ace stood in the middle of a chaotic battlefield, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and the crackle of fire. Sha Hualing, leading a ragtag group of demons, had demanded a customary duel of three rounds. But Ace wasn’t in the mood for games.

He unleashed a massive burst of Flame Emperor. The fire blazed out in all directions, swallowing the demons whole. They screamed, recoiling in fear, but Ace wasn’t done. With a single swipe of his hand, the flames roared higher, engulfing the demons in a wave of heat and power.

The remaining demons quickly scattered, realising that Ace was no mere mortal. As they retreated, Ace casually wiped the sweat from his brow, making no effort to suppress his grin. “Is that all you’ve got?” he called after them.

Behind him, the disciples of various peaks were absolutely beside themselves, some gaping in awe, others practically swooning. “That was amazing!! How’d you do that!?” one of them called out, practically vibrating with excitement.

Ace looked over his shoulder with a cocky grin, revelling in the attention. “Yeah, yeah, it’s nothin’ special,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just part of the service.”

The air around them rippled as a sudden flash of sword light cut through the sky, and with a thunderous boom, Liu Qingge landed heavily in front of Ace. His robes were still bloodied and torn, but there he was, the War God himself, conscious and glaring at the world around him.

Liu Qingge had woken up halfway through Mu Qingfang’s treatment, only to hear about the demon invasion. Groggy but determined, and with little regard for his injuries, he’d immediately taken off on his flying sword.

"Where do you think you're going, Liu-shixiong?" Mu Qingfang's voice rang out, irritated and sharp as he appeared a moment later. "You literally just woke up after a major qi deviation. Have you lost your mind?"

Shen Jiu, trailing closely on his sword behind Mu Qingfang, sighed in exasperation. He had been chasing after Liu Qingge with one goal in mind: to keep him from making a scene. But now, with the battle over and Ace standing right there, all of his efforts felt like they were about to be thrown into chaos.

“You,” Liu Qingge suddenly pointed a shaking finger at Ace, his expression deadly serious. “Saved me.”

Ace scratched his head. “Nah, not really. It was mostly him.” He casually gestured toward Shen Jiu.

Liu Qingge frowned, his brows knitting together. “Owe both.”

“Oh no, no,” Ace quickly waved him off, bowing slightly. “It’s only natural for us to help.”

Liu Qingge stared at Ace with a look of disbelief, as though the very idea of someone refusing gratitude was an offence of the highest order. “Reject…my thanks?”

But before another disagreement could break out, Mu Qingfang slapped a fist into his palm with an exaggerated ah! sound.

Everyone turned towards the healer, who was looking absolutely delighted with himself. “I knew it!” he exclaimed, pointing at Ace. “You’re Shen-shixiong’s partner in the erotic book!”

Ace blinked, pointed at himself, then blinked again, completely lost.

Liu Qingge’s eyes flitted between Ace and Shen Jiu, confused and mildly scandalised.

Shen Jiu, at that moment, felt like the world was spinning too quickly for him to catch up. The sudden heat in his face was unbearable, and for a moment, he wondered if Ace’s fire powers were somehow transferrable. How else could he explain the inferno that was now spreading across his face? It felt like his skin was being scorched by the very flames of the sun.

(Goddammit, I fucking knew it. I knew that fucking bastard knew about the fucking book!)

Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua, who had been lurking quietly among the disciples, having failed at doing anything useful during the demon attack, was watching the situation unfold across him with wide eyes. His hands were shaking as he mentally screamed to himself, Who TF is that buff dude?! I don't remember creating such a character—and how is Liu Qingge alive? His eyes flickered to Shen Jiu, whose face was now a brilliant shade of red. And why does Shen Qingqiu look like a blushing shoujo character in love? Also, what erotic book is Mu Qingfang talking about?!

The last thing Shang Qinghua needed was this kind of chaos. He was the one who’d written the Proud Immortal Demon’s Way novel, so how did this mess even happen? He had no idea, and he was supposed to be the author, wasn’t he?

Goddammit, why am I the most clueless one here!?

Shang Qinghua could only hold his head in his hands, silently cursing his own creation.

Omake (aka sha hualing and ace have a fashion stand-off)

Sha Hualing -sly smile, looking appreciatively at Ace-: “Well, well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? I must admit, you’re far more interesting than the usual cultivators.”

Ace: "Thanks, I guess? You don’t look too bad yourself—though you might wanna fix that thing you’re wearing. Looks like it’s about to fall apart."

Sha Hualing -OFFENCE! THAT’S RUDE-: "Excuse me? This thing happens to be custom-tailored demon silk. But you—do you even know how to wear clothes, or did no one ever teach you?"

Ace: "Says the girl who’s one gust of wind away from a wardrobe malfunction!"

The two glare at each other, their fingers pointing accusingly at the other.

Sha Hualing: "You look like you lost a fight with your own wardrobe!"

Ace: "You look like you tripped into a curtain and called it a day!"

“Shameless!”

“Show-off!”

…

Bystander disciple: "Should we step in?"

Bystander demon: "Nah, this is entertaining."

8 notes · View notes