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imaginespazzi · 24 days

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Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance.

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away.

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night.

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily.

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved.

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else.

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone.

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?”

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around.

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet.

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late.

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard.

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave.

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay.

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question.

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away.

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter.

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart.

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine.

Until she’s not.

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine.

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck.

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down.

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out.

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion.

“I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers.

“What?”

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home.

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind.

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight.

April 2033

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age.

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word.

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her.

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen.

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes.

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room.

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse.

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too.

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever.

“Why would this be about Clémence?”

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again.

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown.

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen.

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks.

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?”

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave.

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off.

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had.

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years.

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen.

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown.

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again.

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it.

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp.

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could, “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze.

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever.

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too.

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back.

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk.

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug.

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face.

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs.

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests.

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women.

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins.

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking.

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world.

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette.

“Clém-” Azzi sighs.

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home.

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand.

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip.

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless.

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up.

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly.

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently.

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns.

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door.

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles.

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand.

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally.

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow.

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously.

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much.

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound.

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells.

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi.

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first.

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder.

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs.

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice.

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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glamorizingchaos · 2 years

Text

Summer Rains Part 5:

Beauty In The Rain

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Rating: M (To be safe 18+)

Warnings: Angst, swearing, pining, smoking, kissing, groping, implications of sex, pregnancy mention, genuine human emotions, probably OOC for Javier... whoops. No beta, just yeeted into the void. any typos. Let me know if I have missed any!

Summary: Javier finally decides what he wants his future to be and Chucho wins Grandpa of the year. Reference for the necklace that is mentioned. The Poem included in the epilogue is by Raymond Garfield Dandridge. Who's poem brought me peace when life was not.

A/N: This is a really bittersweet moment. I again apologize for how long it has taken me to finish this story. Life was overwhelming and I was trying to push myself into writing smut because I know it's popular. So I hit a wall because I was trying to force something out of myself that I didn't really want to write and personally didn't add much to the story. So I took the pressure off of myself. There is no smut in here just implications and allusions to it. It is not something I am just yet comfortable writing, but maybe someday. I also spent WAY TOO LONG obsessing over the timeline and trying to get everything to make sense. I am fairly certain some new grey hairs appeared on my head because of it. I gave up. I did my best. I am not perfect and this is a hobby. I have loved every second of writing this ending and I hope you like it too. Thank you so much for sticking with me and for your patience as I lose my marbles again and again. I have so many people I want to thank and dedicate this to. So many people who without them, I probably never would have posted this story or continued writing it. I hope they know who they are and how much they have meant to me. If you have ever left a like, a comment, a reblog, or sent me a message please know how much that means to me. I hope you never hit a red light and that your pillow is always cold at night. You are angels and the world is so much better with you in it. If you got this far you are a gem. I hope to write more on this blog in the future but I am done trying to force myself into a schedule. I want this to be a fun creative outlet not another obligation for me. Thank you for reading and without further ado, our two idiots need a happy ending.

Masterlist Previous Part

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! I’d love to hear feedback!

The card slips from your fingers and falls to the counter, forgotten.

The next morning you wake to the sun shining through a sliver in your curtains. Weird… usually I get waken up by a hungry infant demanding a boob. As soon as the thought crosses your mind you glance over at the crib to the right of the bed. It’s empty. Your nose scrunches in confusion but then the light banging of pots and pans echoing from the kitchen catches your attention.

You slip on your slippers and slowly pad your way to the kitchen. Your limbs still heavy with sleep. You find Chucho dressed and ready in his Sunday best for church as he makes breakfast. Sofia sitting in the high chair babbling away with her grandpa. He softly whistles an old ballad to her as he warms up a bottle. You mumble a greeting to Chucho and he tosses a cheery good morning back. You sweep your hand across Sofia’s forehead pushing the soft brown curls out of the way as you lean down to kiss her.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You question Chucho as you make your way over to the cabinet to make yourself some tea.

“You were tired and there are bottles out here. I wanted you to rest.” Chucho replies simply with a light pat on your cheek. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I mean why else did you pump if not for this reason? Plus he was right, you were exhausted. Sofia had a rough night again. Gotta love sleep regression. Your guess was all the change in her routines. She needed normalcy and stability, and honestly? So did you.

Once the bottle was ready for Sofia, Chucho swoops the baby girl up in his arms to feed her. A soft smile blooms across your face at how sweet Chucho is with Sofia. He has a way with her. She rarely cries when he is around and he has quickly become her favorite person. Your baby girl has Chucho completely wrapped around her finger. This is all you ever wanted for your daughter, Sunday morning breakfasts and a family that is bursting with love. Lost in thought, the creak of a floorboard draws your attention to the doorway. Javier had paused before entering the kitchen, the bags under his eyes were dark and he still had yesterday’s clothes on. Your eyes meet his weary dark orbs, and his frown deepens as he looks back, almost studying you. You shifted under his gaze like a bug under a microscope.

A wave of annoyance begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Javier has no right to judge you when you did nothing wrong in the first place. You straighten your back and cool your expression into one of annoyed indifference. He quickly looks away from you as if your gaze burned him. He makes his way into the room and pats his dad on the shoulder in greeting as he swipes a mug for his coffee.

“You look awful mijo.” Chucho was never one to pull a punch.

“Gee, thanks Pop.” Javier’s voice was devoid of any emotion as he slumped on the counter with his chin pressed to his chest. Javier really did look a mess and he looked pale. You felt the familiar pinprick of tears start to burn your eyes, everything that led you both down this path started with your lie. You want to be furious at him; to yell, scream, smash something, but you can’t move. You are frozen as the quiet guilt rages a war in your brain. You blink and try to will away the traitorous tears threatening to spill and notice Chucho staring at you with a wary gaze. You quickly excuse yourself mumbling about taking a shower. Anything to escape, to give you time to think.

Chucho inhales deeply as he watches you practically sprint out of the kitchen. He turns to his son, brooding and quietly sipping his coffee with his eyes closed. Chucho looks down at Sofia’s milk-drunk, blissed-out expression and slowly walks over to set her down in the pack n’ play set up in the corner of the kitchen. It used to be in the living room but Sofia got fussy when she couldn’t see Chucho cook.

“You know one day you are gonna push people too far and they won’t keep coming back for more.” Chucho stares counting Sofia’s soft breaths as he addresses Javier.

Javier slowly opens his eyes as his jaw rocks. “I know.”

Chucho turns and points down the hall towards where you are, “That woman is at her breaking point. And look at you! Pale and smelling like a chimney. I cannot sit here and watch the two of you destroy each other. Either figure out what you want and fight for it or just stop and let her go.” Chucho’s tone was severe as he verbally lashed his son.

“Pops I-” Javier’s throat was dry and his voice cracked pitifully.

“No. I am taking Sofia to Church. You-” He stabs his pointer finger into Javier’s chest “Are going to talk to her. You are letting your happiness slip away from you. No one is taking it away.” Chucho reaches into his pocket and presses the small black card you left on the counter into Javier’s free hand. “If this is enough to sway you then you are far stupider than I thought you were.”

The card feels cold in Javier’s hand. His dark eyes stare unblinkingly at it. Not even looking up when Chucho leaves the room with Sofia in tow. He turns the thin piece of paper over and over between his fingers. How could he have let something so small, so meaningless burrow under his skin? He knows his father is right. He has to stop letting this fear and insecurity control him and make him lash out at you. He needs to make a choice and he needs to make it now.

“Oh, did Chucho leave?” Your voice, soft and missing its usual melodic tone, tears Javier’s eyes away from the card. There you are standing in the hallway hair still damp from your shower but loosely braided to the side. You have your favorite navy blue linen overalls on, the ones you like to wear to clean around the house. You are a vision of domestic bliss. But he can see the weariness in your eyes. The hollowness that lingers in them now.

Javier clears his throat roughly, shoving the card into his pocket. He has no idea how long he has been standing staring at it. “Uh yeah, he took Sofia to church with him.”

“Oh. Okay.” Your voice is void of emotion or any of your usual lightness. Javier feels stiff and awkward like his limbs are full of sand and he doesn’t know how to be around you anymore.

You turn to walk away from him and Javier starts panicking. Is it too late? Has he pushed you too far?

Before he can talk himself out of it, Javier blurts out the one question he should have asked the day you arrived in Texas. “Can we talk for a second?”

The silence was deafening. You stopped mid-step towards your bedroom and did a half-turn back to him. Your brows furrowed as you studied the man before you. The Javier that stood before you now was not the same Javier you left behind in Colombia. So many things have changed, for both of you. The wrinkles around his eyes have grown more prominent and the gray in his hair is more noticeable. He still stands with his hands on his hips and hunched shoulders, always carrying the weight of the world on his back. But it was something in his eyes, those piercing eyes that once glowed like embers lost that spark and fire, that once spoke to you. Javier’s dark orbs transfixed you, their darkness overwhelming but there was a sadness to them now. A haunting darkness in them that goes deeper than you knew.

“Sure” You held his stare for a moment, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. His eyes widened as if he assumed you’d refuse his request.

Javier quickly shook the surprise from his face and schooled his expression back to its normal frown. He motioned towards the porch and opened the front door for you. You slowly lowered yourself into the nearest rocking chair as Javier leaned on the railing across from you. The crack of the front door shutting echo across the ranch. Javier cleared his throat as he flexed his hands on the railing and stared at a crack in the porch floor. He would kill for a cigarette. Or a bottle of whiskey.

“So, um, what did you want to talk about Javier?” You never used to call him Javier so much. Only when you pretended to be angry at him or when you were teasing him. It used to be fun, hearing you huff it out between laughs or moan it in his ear. Now his name on your lips is a reminder of the mess everything has turned into. Of all the mistakes he’s made. Of the lies, he’s told. All the reasons you left him. All the reasons that he hates himself. No wonder you left and maybe you should again. Maybe that is what’s best.

–

“Javier?” You calling his name a second time caught his attention and his eyes finally met yours briefly before looking away again.

“Right. Yeah. I wanted to discuss your plans.” Javier’s hand scrubbed the back of his neck as he avoided your gaze.

“My plans?” You schooled your face into the picture of neutrality.

Javier huffed in frustration, “Yes. Your plans. Shit, you know what I am trying to say here.”

A cold fire lit behind your eyes, a predator eying their prey as they narrowed. “No Javier I don’t. I don’t know what I am doing here. I thought I did, for a moment I thought I knew what you wanted. Now? I am lost. You want to know my plan? I don’t have one. Not since you showed up in Miami and turned my whole life upside down.” You released a heavy breath trying to calm that fire that sparked in your veins.

Javier’s eyes flashed with anger and he set his jaw before he continued pressing, “I know that everything has not been the easiest lately, that I have not been the easiest to deal with-”

You scoff and wrap your arms around yourself. “Because everything was always so perfect between us.”

That struck a chord with Javier. He made mistakes. Tons of them even; but he always did what he thought would protect you. To keep you hidden from his world, from him, and the darkness that followed. He nearly growled his response, “I did what I had to do to keep you away from all that shit. To protect you.”

“Protecting me? Is that what lying to me about sleeping with your informants, all while you were fucking me is? Pretty sure that is exactly the opposite of protection Peña.”

Javier’s eyes turned cold and his next words cut you like a knife, “Well, I didn’t fucking leave without a damn word and hide a child from you.”

“You didn’t exactly give me any reason to stay. I was just a casual fuck to you and we both know if I hadn’t left, you would have.” You internally curse yourself for the tears brimming your eyes. You hate that after everything he still has this power over you, over your emotions.

Javier's whole body goes stiff, his voice is quiet barely audible above the sound of the ranch. “Is that really what you think of me?”

You lock eyes with his. Your anger quickly begins to dissipate the minute you see the pain in his eyes. “I-” You start but stop yourself.

Javier shakes his head as if he can shake the heartbreak away, “No. I don’t want to fight with you. This isn’t coming out right. I didn’t mean to..” But his voice trails off. He is desperately trying to find the words to tell you all the feelings and emotions that have been storming around in his head since the day you left.

It is a minute before either of you speaks. “I didn’t sleep with my informant that night. The one before you left.”

“What?” Your voice is barely a whisper over the frantic beating of your heart thumping in your ears.

“I hadn’t slept with any of them for a while. People just assumed and I never corrected them. I-I didn’t want to. I couldn’t admit to them or myself that you meant more to me than I let on. That you still do. I am sorry that I fucked up so much back then. That I pushed you away and made you feel that I would rather you run away than tell me you were pregnant. I am so sorry.” The tears in Javier’s eyes were clear as day.

“Javier” You slide out of the chair and stood behind him. Before thinking you reached your hand out and touched his shoulder. “No. I am sorry. What I did was unforgivable. I knew how much you did to protect me and I left like that knowing it would scare you. But in that moment, all I wanted was for you to hurt as much as I did. I was stupid and angry. What I did was selfish and cowardly, even if I thought I was protecting Sofia. I should have stayed and fought for this. How can you ever forgive me?”

“I did the moment I saw you with Sofia.” Javier’s hands find their way to your cheeks and he wipes away the tears streaming down them.

“Where do we go from here?” Your hand finds its way to his cheek as you look at Javier.

He rests his forehead on yours, “I don’t know.” He slowly leans in and brushes his lips against yours. Giving you every opportunity to push him away. But you don’t. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him as close to you as possible, needing the grounding force of his body against yours.

Javier’s hands move to your neck, your waist, your hair, and back to your face. His scent surrounds you. He pours every ounce of emotion within him into this kiss. He pulls you flush against his chest and a whimper falls from your mouth. It only urges him on and he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip. Begging you to let him in, to let him taste you again.

You immediately give in to him. To the feelings coursing between the two of you. You reach up and pull his hair and a deep growl reverberates from Javier’s chest. His hands slide their way to your hips, then to your ass and he squeezes. It’s as if he thinks if he lets go of you, this would have all been a dream. His movements are hurried and needy. He is desperate for more of you.

You finally pull away to breathe but Javier just continues kissing down your jaw to your neck. He finds your ear lobe and sucks it into his mouth and pulls. Scraping his teeth on the delicate flesh. “Let’s go inside.” He whispers into your ear but you are jello in his arms. Hardly able to think straight. He slowly starts walking you backwards into the house. As you cross the threshold into the front hall your hands grip his jacket, trying desperately to tear it off him. Javier drags his mouth away from your neck long enough to rip his jacket and shirt off before descending onto your lips again.

This time as he crashes his lips to yours he grabs a handful of your ass and yanks you into him, his leg falling between yours. You let out a sharp gasp which he takes quick advantage of and pushes his tongue into your mouth. It's clumsy and frantic how the two of you grip each other. Trying to get as close as humanly possible. Your back slams into the nearest wall as you reach for the belt loops in Javi’s jeans and drag him impossibly close to you. As he is pressed against you Javi lets a deep groan loose as he drags his teeth down your throat, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin, leaving marks as he goes.

You are drowning in him. The sensation of his body pressed against yours, his hands digging into your ass, your thighs, tugging on your hair. The feeling of his lips on yours after so long without him. It's all too overwhelming, this is all you have been thinking about since the day he burst back into your life. Javier pulls away from your neck and brings his hands to the sides of your face.

“Wait, wait… Is this okay?” His voice is gravelly and lower than usual. His deep brown eyes are burning into yours. You want to laugh. Of course, this is more than okay, this is all you crave anymore. Javier. He consumes every waking thought and he invades your dreams. He is the biggest nuisance and he is everything you have wanted.

“No.” The minute the word leaves your mouth Javier shifts to move away from you but you stop him by grabbing his belt and pulling him back in. “No this is not okay. This is perfect.”

The two of you fall back into a familiar dance; your bodies fitting together perfectly, like two harmonies coming together in perfect time. Javier knows exactly which strings to pluck to make you sing, he has every curve, dimple, scar, and stretch mark memorized. As you lay back trying to regulate your heartbeat, you find Javier tracing the new marks on your stomach; gifts from the beautiful daughter you both brought into this world. He lightly runs his fingertips up and down, side to side. Silently adding them to his memory of you. He every so often presses soft kisses on your hairline. After a few silent moments, his eyes finally meet yours, a small smile decorating his face. You reach up and trace the lines at the corners of his eyes. You both have changed so much but at this moment, here, it suddenly feels like no time has passed between the two of you. You are back at his apartment in Colombia with a cool breeze blowing through the window carrying the smell of the Arepa shop down the street.

Javier’s hand paused in its path, “I know we have so much yet to figure out-”

“Please let's not do this now.” You begged him not wanting to ruin this perfect moment.

“Will you ever just let me finish a sentence?” Javier sits up to look down at your face, a playful glint in his chocolate eyes.

You lean up and place a chaste peck on his lips, “Nope.” and try to turn away from him.

“You are gonna want me to finish this one.” Javier takes the chance to playfully pinch your sides and laughs as you yelp and try to squirm away from him. “I know we have a lot to talk about and figure out. But I want you to know that I am all in. I want to build a life with you and our daughter, I want a house and a dog and the fucking white picket fence. I want it all. But I want it with you. I love you. Te Amo mi alma. Tienes todo mi corazón y siempre lo tendrás.”

You stared wide-eyed up at him, completely frozen in place. Javier starts to panic. He pushed you for more than what you were ready for. He said too much too fast. Javier Peña, ever the fucking moron. Why can’t he ever keep his fucking mouth shut? Should he take it back? No that would be so much worse. Javier was so lost in the spiral of self-doubt and intrusive thoughts that he didn’t even notice the tears beginning to overflow out of your eyes or the way that your hand was squeezing his. When you reached up and held his cheeks in your hands he was finally able to silence his thoughts.

“You are everything I have ever wanted and I promise you I will work every day to show you how much I love you and to make up for all the time we lost because I was stupid and scared. You, Javier Peña, are the most frustrating man on the planet. You are stubborn and pig-headed and you make me want to scream half the time. But you are also the most generous, kind-hearted, and selfless man I have ever met. You gave me a daughter and I cannot thank you enough for that gift. I love you with my whole heart and I cannot wait to build a future with you.”

“You scared me there for a second Hermosa. I thought I had lost you there.” Javier quickly wipes a traitorous tear than escaped his eye. “And you have nothing to make up for mi amor.”

“Yes. I do. I am not going anywhere. I am all in.”

Javier leans down and places another soft kiss along your hairline before sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. He slowly stands as you lean your head back and close your eyes, taking in the moment. You hear him rifling through his pants on the floor by the bed, his belt buckle jingling and then softly thumping on the ground.

“Dammit” Javier huffs under his breath and snatches his briefs from the scattered pile of clothes around the floor.

“What's wrong?” You keep your eyes closed starting to feel the tug of sleep starting to drag you under.

“My cigarettes are in my jacket pocket. I’ll be right back.”

Javier closes the door lightly, knowing that you are starting to fall asleep and not wanting to disturb you. He follows the trail of clothes from his bedroom to the hallway until he finds his jacket tossed on top of Sofia’s stroller. He begins digging through the pockets for his pack of cigarettes.

“¿Buscas estos?” Javier turns and sees Chucho leaning in the doorway, the red carton of cigarettes dangling in his hand. “Las cosas salieron bien, ya veo?”

Chucho smirked as he gestured to the random pieces of clothing and shoes tossed around the hallway leading to Javier’s room. Javier cleared his throat awkwardly and snatched the cigarettes out of his dad’s hand. He slides one out and Chucho pulls a lighter out from his back pocket and tosses it to Javier. The cigarette glowed a vibrant orange as Javier lit it and took a long drag before tossing the lighter back to Chucho.

“Uh, sí. Sí, lo hicieron.” Javier returned his father’s smirk with a goofy grin. “Realmente bien. ¿Dónde está Sofía?”

“Dormido. Ni siquiera llegó a comulgar antes de desmayarse.” Chucho turned to walk back into the living room as Javier let the cigarette dangle from his mouth and started collecting the miscellaneous clothing strewn about.

“Recuerda usar protección esta vez. No tenemos lugar para más sorpresas.” Chucho called from the living room. Javier rolled his eyes and made his way back to his room. Back to where you were waiting for him.

Things weren’t perfect. They never would be; you two aren’t exactly saints. But the sight that lay before him in his room reminded him that doesn’t matter. You were curled up in a ball in the middle of his bed with blankets scattered around and halfway on the floor and he could hear your soft snores fill the air. He pulled the blankets around you and contorted himself to fit next to you. He leaned back on the headboard and stared down at your sleeping form silently through the haze and smoke. He could hear Chucho as he moved about in the kitchen. The clangs of pots and pans combined with the soft rhythm of your slow breaths and soft snores. For the first time in a very long time, Javier felt completely at peace. He knew that he would rather fight with you than live another day without you. He knew in that moment that Sofia was the greatest gift to have ever happened to him; that you gave him that gift. He knew that from this day on he will fight, claw, and bleed for the two of you. His little family. Los Amores de su Vida.

2 years later

“This stupid fucking thing” with a deep sigh of exasperation Javier rips the bow tie out from the collar of his dress shirt and tosses it on the floor.

“Why the hell did you even buy the fucking thing. You barely button your shirt most days.” Steve hands Javier a glass of whiskey. “Drink and chill the hell out.”

Javier downs the amber liquid in one go, shoving the glass back into Steve’s waiting hand. “Forgive me for trying to look respectable on my fucking wedding day pendejo.” Javier swiftly unbuttoned the top two buttons and slid on his suit jacket. He stood adjusting and readjusting in the mirror for what felt like an eternity. Everything had to be perfect. You deserved perfect and he will make it happen if it kills him.

Chucho popped his head through the door, “Es hora Mijo.” Javier took a deep, shaky breath and turned to face his father. Chucho smiled and grabbed his son by the sides of his face and pressed his forehead against Javier’s, closing his eyes for a moment, “Estoy tan orgulloso de ti.” Chucho Leaned back and Javier could see tears brimming in his father’s eyes.

“Gracias Papá.” Javier smiled back at Chucho as he smoothed his sweaty palms on his pants.

Chucho glanced at Steve, “Well then, let’s get this show on the road. Vamos.”

Your knuckles were completely white from the death grip you had your bouquet under. Connie had just made her way down the aisle with Sofia as the flower girl, awkwardly toddling in front of her. If her performance at the rehearsal told you anything, she dumped the entire basket of petals immediately over her head. But you don’t care about any of that. You only care that you are marrying the love of your life and the father of your child. The past few months haven’t been easy, you are marrying Javier Peña after all, the man is a well-documented hot head, and frankly, you are no better. The two of you have fought tooth and nail to be together and to build a life, a future.

Of course, nothing ever came easy for the two of you. Soon after you two made up, Javier decided to finally tell you he had to go back to Colombia. Oh, you were angry, for sure. Javier had to sleep in Sofia’s room for a couple of days before you had calmed down enough to talk to him. No matter how angry you were that he didn’t tell you, you knew Javier. He would never be able to rest until the Cali cartel was finished. He never got over being sent home for working with Los Pepes. He had unfinished business and even though you hated the idea, he went to Colombia while you and Sofia stayed in Texas. It was hard. He called. You sent care packages with drawings of Sofia and pictures. It didn’t change the milestones he missed. He did get leave for her first birthday, but it was never going to be long enough.

When you finally heard the familiar crackle of Javier’s truck on the gravel driveway you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Like you were finally able to take a full breath of air for the first time since the day he left. You had been in the kitchen all morning with Chucho making a welcome lunch. You were covered in flour and didn’t even take your apron off before sprinting outside. You flung the porch door open just as Javier was racing up the stops and launched yourself into his arms, nearly toppling him to the ground. There were tears and kisses and whispers of “I love yous” and “I missed yous” and “you are not leaving again.”

The two of you eventually, begrudgingly, untangled yourselves and Chucho brought a just woken up Sofia to the door. Javier immediately swooped her into his arms and rocked her against his chest. He was able to keep his cool with you but the minute his baby girl was finally in his arms again, he lost all composure and tears began to fall from his eyes. Javier took Sofia into the yard so he could try and get her to walk for him. You plopped down on the porch steps watching them play and babble back and forth. You could watch them for hours.

“Sofia, okay baby girl, walk to Mama. Go find Mama.” Javier walked behind her ready to catch her if she tumbled backward. Though she was walking on her own now, she was still unsteady and fell often and fell hard.

“C’mon baby girl. Come to mommy!” You reached out your arms as Sofia giggled and wobbled her way towards you with Javier in tow. Her stumpy little legs stopped right in front of your lap and you reached for her hands to steady her. As you grabbed her hands, she was holding something in them. She’s been hoarding rocks lately and you reach to grab it only to find that this rock wasn’t in fact a rock at all. It was a small box. “Javier, what is this?”

Javier was kneeling in front of you with his hand on Sofia’s back, “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

Now here you are almost 6 months later and you are waiting to walk down the aisle in front of all of your friends and family.

“Are you ready Mija?” Chucho grabbed your hand and placed it in the crook of his arm.

“More than ready.”

The whole day was a blur. It was full of tears and laughter and pure joy. Now as you sit with Javier on the porch swing gazing at the stars with your head in his lap as he runs his fingers down your back you feel completely at peace, at home.

“I know we said no gifts.” Javier paused his movements as you sat up.

“Javier, you promised.”

“I know but, I couldn’t help myself.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long slender, black velvet box. “Open it.”

“This is not fair. I don’t have anything for you!” You opened the lid and the tears were almost immediate. Javier may be the grumpiest man alive but he is also the sweetest. Javier bought you a beautiful silver necklace with three gemstones in a line. “Oh Javier, it's beautiful.”

“It's each of our birthstones. Mine, yours, and Sofia’s. I just, I don’t know, thought it would be nice. To have something of our family for you to wear”

“That's so sweet Javi.” You trace the stones with your fingertips, “It’s just that, uhm…”

“What? What’s wrong? Is it the setting? We can change it. We can return it if you don’t like it Hermosa. What is it?” Javier immediately went into fixer mode. He always took it upon himself to fix any problem you had, even the imaginary ones.

“NO. No. Javier, I love it! It’s just that, well, we are going to need to add a stone, that's all.” You looked up at Javier trying to hold back your smile and the tears. Jesus Christ, you didn’t know you had any more tears left.

Javier’s eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to figure out just exactly what you said. He looked at the necklace then back at you and it dawned on him. “What? Wait. Are you serious?” He reached for your hands as a jubilant smile flickered across his face.

“Yes. I found out last month.” He couldn’t contain his excitement as dragged you into his arms and kissed your head, your cheek, your nose, your neck. You couldn’t help but giggle at his excitement. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“But…but you were drinking? You had champagne and…and cocktails at dinner.” Javier’s words were rushed. His hands were rubbing up and down your arms, it seemed to be soothing him more than it was you.

“Connie had the bartender make mocktails and give me sparkling cider.” You reached up and wiped the tears off of his cheek.

“We are having a baby?” Javier’s wide dark mahogany eyes pierced yours. The tears already threatening to overflow.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you into his lap, “We are having a baby.”

Epilogue

Texas thunderstorms are a loud boisterous beast. The rumble of thunder shook the whole house and the cracks of lightning lit up the entire yard. The rain had been nonstop for the last couple of days. So much so that construction on yours Javier’s new home was put on hold until the weather subsided.

It was no worry though, Chucho loved having the house full of laughter and the thump of tiny little feet running around. Sofia definitely gives her Abuelo a run for his money, at just 4 and a half she is feisty as all hell and ALWAYS wants the last word. She has Chucho wrapped around her finger, and she knows it. Mateo is the opposite. He is the most soft-spoken and sensitive 2-year-old. Always trying to play peacemaker.

The rain drops beat against the kitchen window as you gather the marshmallows and steaming mugs of hot chocolate onto a tray. A new addition to the Peña family tradition of playing card games while it rains, hot cocoa, and playing out on the porch so you can sit and listen to the rain. Just like you did with your mom.

You balance the tray on your hip as you awkwardly try to open the screen door to the porch.

“Ay Mija, let me do that!” Chucho pulls Matteo off his lap and sets the book they were reading down. He grabs the tray from you and shoos you away. “Go on. Go, sit down.”

“Thank you, Chucho. I thought the third time would be easier but this one is doing jumping jacks on my kidneys I swear.” You lower yourself onto the porch swing, rubbing your belly absent-mindedly when you turn to Mateo and lift him onto your lap. “Are Papa and Sofia still yelling at each other?” You tickle his sides and his giggle erupts into the air. Mateo lays his head on your chest as you quietly hum and rub his back.

Javier and Sofia are competitive. She knows exactly how to rile him up. They have been playing go fish for an hour, and he has lost four times. You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous sight of your husband arguing with your toddler about counting cards as if she is a card shark in a casino.

“Here Mateo, pero ten cuidado. It's hot.” Chucho hands Matteo a small mug he got for his birthday. Steve and Connie got it for him, or “Unca Steve” and “Auntie Wonnie” as Mateo calls them. It had brightly colored jellyfish on it and it was from the Florida Aquarium. Steve took Matteo there when he was a baby and he was obsessed with the jellyfish and has been ever since. When we told Steve and Connie that I was pregnant with Mateo, Steve campaigned hard for Steve Jr. He about tackled Javier to the ground in the hospital room when we told him Mateo’s middle name was Esteban.

“Are you two done fighting over there? Your hot chocolate’s gonna get cold.” You took a marshmallow and pelted it at Javier’s head.

“Ay! Hermosa, quit it!” Javier gathered the cards and Sofia ran up to Chucho for her cup. You laughed to yourself as she convinced him to give her extra marshmallows on the side because “it's always good to have a snack with your drink.”

Javier plopped down beside you and Mateo on the swing chewing away on his Nicorette gum. He went cold turkey in preparation for Mateo and hasn’t had one since. He slid his arm around your shoulders rubbing the back of your neck and he playfully tries to steal marshmallows out of Mateo’s mug.

Sofia, after shoving all the marshmallows in her mouth at once, crawls up into Javier’s lap to sip on her drink. Chucho finished divvying out the rest of the mugs to you and Javier before sitting down himself. A silence fell over the Peña household as the pattering of the rain and the rumble of thunder in the distance created a beautiful song.

This blissful moment reminds you of a poem that your mother would read to you at night during loud crashing thunderstorms.

The clouds are shedding tears of joy, They fall with rhythmic beat Upon the earth, and soon destroy Dust dunes and waves of heat.

Each falling drop enforcement bears To river, lake and rill, And sweet refreshment gladly shares With wooded dell and hill.

Every flower, bud and leaf, Each blossom, branch and tree Distills the rain, 'tis my belief, To feed the honey bee.

I pity every wretch I find Who, frowning in disdain, Is deaf and dumb and also blind To beauty in the rain.

Rain causes destruction. Rain causes chaos. It is loud and booming. But rain also creates beauty. Rain creates stillness. It is also soft and peaceful. To find the beauty in the rain you have to look deeper beyond the noise and chaos. Only then will you discover the beauty in the rain.

You and Javier have been through so much together. Colombia was a difficult time and then everything that happened after. It nearly destroyed you both. You fought and yelled and screamed. You hurt each other. But you did not give up on each other. Together you tried to find the beauty beyond the chaos of your lives. You forgave each other. You worked together to create the beautiful life you now live. It is not always easy. But you both show up every day for each other.

The airy, fresh scent of petrichor filled your nose as the rain droplets thrummed away on the roof of the porch. Javier leaned over and kissed your head as his free hand fell to your protruding stomach. The scene around you was beautiful and a treasure hard-won. A teary smile spreads across your face as you bask in the outpour of love that fills the porch and this home. This moment, this life, this family, Chucho, your children, Javier. They are your beauty in the rain. They are what makes the chaos and strife worth it. They cleanse away the dust and hurt of the past to make life beautiful and vibrant and full of laughter, light, and love. You have spent your whole life searching and now find comfort in the fact you have finally found your very own beauty in the rain.

Masterlist

Spanish Translations:

Mijo - My son

Mija - My daughter

Te amo - I love you

Tienes todo mi corazón y siempre lo tendrás - You have all my heart and always will

Hermosa - Beautiful

Mi Amor - My love

¿Buscas estos? - Looking for these?

Las cosas salieronien ya veo? - Things went well I see?

Sí. Sí, lo hicieron - Uh, yes. Yes, they did.

Realmente bien. ¿Dónde está Sofía? - Really well. Where is Sofia?

Dormido. Ni siquiera llegó a comulgar antes de desmayarse - Asleep. She didn't even get to communion before she passed out

Recuerda usar protección esta vez. No tenemos lugar para más sorpresas - Remember to use protection this time. We have no room for more surprises

Llos amores de su vida. - The loves of his life

Vamos - C’mon

Pero ten Cuidado - but be careful

Please let me know if any of the Spanish translations or usage is incorrect!!

Tagslist: @over300books @foli-vora @sharkbait77 @ikinmahlen @lordmotherofcats @mishasminion360 @queridopascal @lich1 @queridopascal @alberta-sunrise @jayda @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @wantingtobekorra @bxxbxy @andruxx @dobbyjen @floraandfrost @cowboy-turtle @nicolethered @mrsparknuts @almaeunice @drinkingwhileblogging @pintsizemama @1800-fight-me @finerthingsboutique @athalien @sherala007 @sdgal @jharnabhuta @dwightkschrutelovesbeets

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!! 💕

#javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x f!reader #Javier peña x reader #Javier Pena x female reader #Javier peña x female reader #angst #tw pregnancy mention #Pedro Pascal character fanfic #narcos fanfic #Javier Pena fanfic #Javier Peña fanfic #narcos

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like for suggesting the backstory thing!

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

Additional Scene || Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈 Find your solemate!

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer.

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already.

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message!

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you.

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you.

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact.

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo.

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh.

“Okay, what now?”

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge.

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing.

It never comes.

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards.

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack.

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement.

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?”

He stares at you.

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that.

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long.

Fuck, he really had only one option.

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him.

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference.

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition.

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation.

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

“I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?”

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated.

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it.

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it.

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.”

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips.

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by.

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?”

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion.

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.”

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead.

Fucking finally.

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place.

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight.

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam.

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming.

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him.

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly.

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you.

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious.

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment.

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying.

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles.

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.”

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles.

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm.

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.”

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified.

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground.

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below.

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient.

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes.

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.”

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand.

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally.

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly.

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.”

“See you there.” Sam nods.

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure.

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business.

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that?

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all.

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry.

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available.

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly.

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?”

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued.

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour.

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.”

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb.

Tony has an idea.

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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neptune-midheaven · 3 years

Text

The Third House Placements and Their Handwriting Styles ~💖🌺🐚

Welcome back babes 😁🙏✨ I’m back posting someee bit but anything nonetheless ! This was a post I wanted to do for a while, this really intrigued me💫

I’m going to be talking about third house placements and their unique to the placement writing styles. Third house rules hands, arms, fingers and writing, correct !😄🎶 There is a correlation between handwriting and third house in astrology as it literlaly rules over it, so components in your third house astrology will dictate how this will look. Use all of the possible combinations you have in your chart ! 🙂☝️

For generational planet ruled signs, use whatever works better.

🔆Sun/leo ~

May have a gift in being very dramatic and showy whenever they express their ideas or in their communication they can be very bright and charming. They’re very talented at absorbing knowledge and facts, they usually are the types of people to dish out random facts about anything whoever you’re talking to them, they have so much random knowledge kept in their minds it’s almost funny. They’re silly and a bit childlike people,

Handwriting style 🦁

Regal, nice looking. They have a confidence to their writing, if the whole class wrote on one piece of paper, theirs would stand out more, maybe a “I can trust what they write is the best there is here” is what people reading over theirs would think.

🌙Moon/cancer ~

Loves sentimental things, talking about the past and family makes them feel good and safe, attachments to the mother, most likely missed her or their family whenever they had to go to school, homesickness at school

Handwriting style 🌝

Soft, homely words. Shyer? They write with a grace and their words are poetically beautiful. It looks like something out of a movie. Nostalgic, their ink is softer and lighter, their curves are soft, their lines and o’s are soft and so sensitive. SO gentle and calm. It’s sleepy?

💫Mercury/gemini/virgo ~

The wittiest, most social people ever. They’re all definitely extroverts, I am one with my gemini in 3rd house ova here 😘, they love talking, and never stop talking and love chatting about anything and never stop chatting about anything, they love walking up to random people and never stop walking up to random people and staring a convo with them out of nowhere 😀. My friends bully me all the time for this. I understand. The one kid in school with like all the answers, they just knew the answer to things and easily got good grades. People asked them for answers all of the time since they are so smart and intelligent, they absorb what they’re being taught so quickly they don’t ever let the teacher finish talking. They’re fast and versatile.

Handwriting style 🤸‍♀️

Fast writing, so many words. They write super fast and probably have so many typos in their essays and papers. Handwriting can look like crap 🤨😐. Like there’s no rush, you’re gonna get your paper done on time! You can’t read what they write al of the time because they rush through writing everything. Their letters and words look fancy somehow, like they were written by the scholar of all scholars, they’re just unintelligible words and sentences. Teachers may need to ask what the student with this placement writes because they can’t read it. Scribbles, jumbled and mixing up things all over the page. You can tell they write fast with the jagged lines and crooked n’s and t’s ajakksks.

💕Venus/taurus/libra ~

Very sweet and charming way of talking to others, they have strong persuasive powers with their honeyed words, they can almost charm you into doing anything, they seem so innocent and sweet. These people are very kind though of course! They love giving others compliments, strangers, their friends, their family, they’re such sweet people to have in your life. They attract partners and relationships by doing their daily tasks, lovers can show up suddenly when they’re running errands or they can attract a lot of interest at their school.

Handwriting style 🍓

The most pleasant, aesthetic handwriting i have ever seen, even if their handwriting is bad it still becomes an art style somehow, i don’t really know how else to describe that. It’s like no matter how bad it could possibly look or how incoherent it is, their script still manages to look NICE.

💥Mars/aries ~

Very loud voices, a bit like sun, but it’s more like their power and strength is used whenever they talk. They could be meaner or aggressive classmates, angry talkers, I know so many people with this placement who talk so mad, so much cursing, ranting and screaming. We love it all.

Handwriting style 🥵

Very rough and fast handwriting, similar to mercury; however, it has more fervor, the messiest and most impulsive handwriting out of all of the other placements.

🐚Jupiter/sagittarius ~

Loud and expressive communicators, similar to the sun here, but they’re louder and bigger. You can hear their voices from across the room and they’re usually the know-it-all’s in the classroom. Very friendly and fun to talk to, they talk about so many exotic and interesting things. They love to crack a joke or two. Also, it’s something about these peoples voices are just FUNNY. Like how they talk is like hilarious and jolly in a good way. It make you wanna crack up and feel good. They make you feel good and BLESSED when they talk to you.

Handwriting style 🍀

Larger letters, I’ve noticed they have bigger “holes” and like to expand their letters over the pages, their words go over the lines and it could be messy usually, sort of like mars fashion but it’s just wider words on the paper.

🪐Saturn/capricorn ~

Very punctual people with perfect punctuation. They hate it whenever their thoughts are messy or unorganized, it makes it hard for them to think thoroughly like they are expected to. They’re the smarter most mature minds in the room. Very deep, daddy voices. IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT. THEY SOUND LIKE THEIR DADS. ITS CRAZY. They talk with so authority and sureness, their diction is so perfect it makes everyone mad.

Handwriting style ✏️

Perfect handwriting, they hate it when their sentences look off or unstructured on a page. The most rounded o’s, the straightest lines and perfect length for every letter they write. Correct punctuation once again, their words look like they were printed by a typewriter.

🌪Uranus/aquarius ~

Very different minds, they could feel strange or odd in school, like they were just the oddball learners, had weird interests, or was a huge nerd over so many subjects. Crazy coffee drinkers, the ones with monster drinks and twenty textbooks that are about to fall out of their open backpacks because they rushed to get to school on time. The craziest people actually, their minds are like on drugs, they can be hard to keep up with.

Handwriting style ⚡️

Weird ways they write certain styles of their letters and their words can “come out” of the page. They write SO fast this is usually why they take harder classes in school with more work just solely on the fact they can write much faster than anyone else. Maybe comic-book looking writing? They’re dynamic and crazy like harsh lines and crazy o’s, there’s something unique about the way they write.

🌊Neptune/pisces ~

Such idealistic thinkers. They want to see the good in their surroundings, they do need to be careful with this because surroundings and things can be deceiving. They can absorb such much of their surroundings, they can be quieter communicators because of this. It can be taken advantage of since they’re overwhelmed by conversations or they can be easily fooled by the wrong people. Like they believe things that aren’t even true? Or they like tell a lot of white lies when they’re talking that make people go like uhh is that even true?😀😀 But they play it off when they’re caught lying, it’s very deceptive. The quietest kids in school that either did drugs or tried to escape class by doing some illegal stuff, or they just left. Some were never seen at school.

Handwriting style 🌀

The sleepiest handwriting I’ve ever seen. It’s provably hard to read what they write. Faded words maybe? Faded words on faded paper. So poetic though, it’s pretty but not in a venus way, it like captivates you. It’s hypnotizing they way they draw out their e’s and their a’s have a dreamy tail that connects to their next letter.

🥀Pluto/scorpio ~

Obsessive minds, they want to know everything possible, they want to reach the deepest depths on information and knowledge. They are motived and driven to know as much as they can, and they always seem to succeed. They’re very smart. The kids in school who would keep to themselves or would obsess over what the teacher taught them, the way they communicate is like they’ve read the same page over and over again for days. Obsessive.

Handwriting style 🖤

Darker, hard to see words, they can have obsessive writing. It’s perfect but fast writing, maybe a bit scary that they have the ability to write so much with so much power? People can be freaked out with just how much they know already. So their words can be very persuasive, so the letters would be magnetic, you love their writing once you read one of their essays. You’re obsessed, just like they are.

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terichii · 3 years

Text

Stalking | Haitani

Warnings: clumsy english text, typos

Can I just write something before I see these beautiful boys in the new episode?

Ran

You knew for sure that you had already seen this guy. By a stupid accident, one day he helped you collect your things that were scattered all over the street. Since then, he surprisingly often began to catch your eye. You noticed him on the way to and from work when you went to the store or just walked around the city. Sometimes he was passing by you and smile, which was confusing, but sometimes you noticed how he was watching from afar. In the end, it was like being paranoid. It seemed that you were about to see these two braids that callused your eyes, sitting on the sofa in your living room.

And you've come to terms with it. Almost. Until something happened.

"You've been finishing up pretty late lately."

"Eh?...",- the familiar voice sent shivers down your spine. You froze, unable to move. But you didn't want to turn your head because you probably knew it was him. Now it was just like a terrible dream that did not want to let you go.

"Do you need a ride?"

Swallowing, you turned around. Yes, it was him. That creepy guy with those stupid braids that you hated. Leaning on the steering wheel of the bike and propping his chin on his hand, he looked at you with a narrowed eye and a grin.

"Uh...n-no, thank you, I'm not far here...", - but you're lying and it seems that he understands this. The time was really late, and you live far away. But right now you were thinking about how to escape from him. You walked further along the street, periodically glancing at him and speeding up your pace. If you had the opportunity, you would have run with all your might now, but you knew that this opportunity was not there. You definitely can't overtake a bike.

The guy caught up with you, looking right into your face, the grin became even wider when he realized what was going on, it seemed that he felt you too well, - "Are you afraid of me?"

"What?? Of course not", - the words, full of indignation, literally burst out of you. No, you weren't afraid of him, you were already sick of seeing him. Isn't that right? Right? ...

From your harsh words, he looked thoughtfully somewhere up into the night sky, before turning back to you, - "That's how...but…"

But you're already gone.

Pausing in mid-sentence, Ran began to look around, peering into the depths of the dark streets. He pursed his lips when he realized where you went – to a remote alley. The place is not the safest.

Your rapid footsteps echoed hollowly from the concrete walls of the narrow alleys. Hoping to take a shortcut and get out of here as soon as possible, you wound through unfamiliar courtyards until you once again came to a dead end.

"Damn",- your thoughts began to get confused again, a tight lump rose somewhere in your throat, you felt panic. If you go back, he will be there. But you're tired of looking for a way out.

"Hey, baby, are you lost?"

Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice how three criminal-looking guys turned out to be nearby. One of them came up to you with an imposing gait, unceremoniously grabbing you by the waist, the disgusting type pulled you closer to him.

"Why are you so tense, relax, we can help you with this, right, guys?", - the guy looked at his friends and laughed, they also took up his initiative.

Unpleasant laughter causes a headache, for a second you thought that you could just give up, that this is not happening to you and it has gone too far.

"Take your hands off!!", - pushing him away from you with a sharp jerk, you jumped back a couple of steps.

The guy staggered, but stood on his feet, although an unpleasant aching pain spread over his chest, which caused his cheerful mood to instantly evaporate, giving way to anger, - "Catch this bitch."

After these words, you immediately slipped back into the narrow alley along which you came, when the others ran after you. Out of the corner of your ear, you heard threats flying after you. You ran, running out of strength until you found an even narrower alley with containers behind which you could hide.

Footsteps and voices echoed past your shelter, sweat broke out on your face, and your legs were buzzing because of the heavy load, but you were still sitting stiffly on the cold, dirty asphalt, unable to move and breathe calmly.

But the panic again covered you when the steps were approaching in your direction, and the shadow fell on the wall of the building opposite. But you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the tall figure of a guy you already know. It seems that for the first time you were happy to see him.

"Are you okay?", - an excited expression appeared on his face as he looked you up and down and held out his hand to help you up.

"Yes, I was just a little scared...", - you accepted the help and got up on your numb legs, brushing off your clothes from the dirt, - "Thank you for...oh...you have blood on your cheek", - you didn't understand why you were worried about him, seeing only a small scratch on his face, but...from this angle, you noted that your pursuer was very cute, which made your cheeks turn pink.

"Hmm?", - passing his hand over his cheek, he looked at his fingers, which really had smeared blood on them, but..- "It's not mine", - the guy smiled gently, which caused you confusion, but you were calm.

"Do you see how many problems there are just because you didn't agree to my offer?", - a light chuckle eased the tension between the two of you as he held out his hand to you again, - "So can I give you a ride?"

Confused, even more, you looked uncertainly into his eyes and, not seeing the danger, carefully put your hand in his, - "I think...yes."

Rindou

"I think it's starting to rain...", - a familiar voice drawled thoughtfully to your's right, while you were standing at the intersection and was waiting for the green light.

From surprise, you turned around and shuddered – in the crowd of people waiting for the signal, there was him - a guy with blond hair and a very ordinary sharp face. The purple eyes shine a little, brazenly looking at your's face. Without turning around, he opens his umbrella right at the moment when the first thunderclap sounds somewhere in the distance.

"Aren't you afraid of getting wet?", - It became obvious that this guy was talking to you, taking a light step past those standing around.

"No", - you whisper, taking a step back.

Suddenly, a beep is heard behind him. The cars on the road freeze, and the flow of people rushes forward, carrying you away. Your thoughts were confused as your legs desperately carried you somewhere ahead. You had already passed the crossing, but something made you turn around. Your heart stopped for a moment, then began to pound wildly – you saw him among the huge mass of heads. His blond, disheveled hair shone like the sun from under a black umbrella. It seems that he also noticed you – a friendly smile appeared on his face. Lifting his umbrella, he waved vigorously at you with his free hand.

This innocent gesture caused a wave of icy goosebumps to run down your back, and you hurried to escape from a crowded place to some courtyards.

You ran for a long time, ragged breath coming out of your mouth until the strength left you, and you stopped. You needed to catch your breath. The rain was beating harder and harder on your head. Your hair and clothes were soaked through

"You'll catch a cold if you keep running like this," - he suddenly heard very close to your ear.

You jumped on the spot and turned around. It's him again! And how does he manage to catch up with you, while maintaining an absolutely calm appearance?..

The guy came closer, taking advantage of your confusion. He held out his hand. Cold…

His angular hand slid onto your forearm and, moving up, pulled uncomfortably on your wet sleeve.

"What do you want from me?...", - you whispered very softly. Your voice was hoarse, frightened. You were shaking all over.

A real hurricane of thoughts was spinning in your head. The first meeting was on a clear evening, a sweet, promising conversation. When did everything go wrong? Now he was following your constantly. At first, he seemed unobtrusive and courteous – he met you, accompany you through dangerous streets to the house. But...after one of the meetings, everything changed. Or not?

"I just want to walk you home", - as always, he smiled warmly with his simple smile, as if he did not understand how creepy he looks now, in their "accidental" meeting. - "Yes, and this rain is so not at the right time. And I see you don't take an umbrella…"

"Fuck off already!", - you screamed and started running again, leaving the frightening interlocutor in slight confusion.

The rain was falling harder and harder, blurring the view with a solid wall. Where did you run to? You didn't care anymore. A straight section, a turn, another turn, a wide street that you run diagonally, ignoring the indignant shouts in the back. The lights of the signs and windows dance around you. Everything merges into a strange nightmare, where bright colors are just decorations. Your heart continues to pound wildly, the noise of blood in your ears is deafening.

That's when you bump into someone's thick carcass. An elastic blow throws you to the wet asphalt. Your hands are burning with pain, and you finally come to your senses.

You were now sitting in some dark alley, where neither lonely windows nor the black doors of various eateries do not go out.

A moment of confusion.

"S-sorry", - you rise, leaning on a skinned palm. It stings. – "I just…"

"Are you lost, beautiful?" - A high-pitched adult voice was heard.

You lookup. In front of you is a heavy man significantly exceeding you in height. He chuckles slightly as he looks at you. And now he was reaching out to you

"Let me examine your hands...", - a hard grip shackles your right wrist, pulls forward.

You are overwhelmed by panic, you can't resist it, are absolutely tired. From despair and pain, you began to howl softly.

"Well, well", - the man encouraged you, smiling maliciously, continuing to pull you to him. – "There's nothing terrible here, dear, now I'll help you get rid of the pain…"

The other hand was also close to your body. It seemed that something irreparable was about to happen.

"Don't...please let me go!", - you whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut in a fit of hopelessness.

And then something happened.

You opened one eye, unable to restrain a strange curiosity. The man let go of your hand, and all his attention was now focused on the guy standing almost between them. With one hand he continued to squeeze the umbrella, the water from which was just trickling down the rough man's neck, and with the other, he was squeezing his fat wrist.

"I think they told you to let go," - he said seriously, looking straight into the small, surprising beady eyes.

"What?", - that's all the boar said, after which he tried to crush the stranger with his mass, stepping forward.

What happened next, you remembered vaguely. More precisely, you just didn't have time to remember exactly what happened. The guy only smiled rapaciously at the fat man's movement, after which he made several blows so fast that you simply did not catch them all. Just sharp shadows under the light of a lone lantern suddenly crashed into a thick carcass. The pig didn't even say anything, just fell back, collapsing on the garbage bags against the wall.

Realizing that it was all over, you turned her gaze to your pursuer and were amazed. He stood there, absolutely calm, smiling affably and holding out his hand to her.

"It's dangerous to go home alone. Can I walk you out?"

A lump rose in your throat, but you immediately overcame herself and took the stranger by the hand. - "Yes, I think I should agree"

You smiled sweetly back at him, then obediently stood under a wide umbrella, and together you moved to the exit of the alley.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader #haitani ran #ran haitani #ran #haitani #ran x reader #ran scenario #ran haitani x reader #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #rindou #rindou x reader #rindou scenario #rindou haitani x reader

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 2 years

Text

7th Dimension (Chapter 6)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 5.1

7TH DIMENSION MASTERLIST

7TH DIMENSION WATTPAD LINK (I'm always 1-2 chapters ahead in this site)

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Small!Naive!Fem!Foreign!Reader | THIS IS A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC. THIS IS AN X READER FANFIC WHO HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO THE DIMENSION OF JUJUTSU KAISEN | (Trust me, you'll live. I hope?)

Summary: You've had it well understood that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. However, you've never intended nor expected Satoru to take it literally as if Valhalla existed within those eyes of his. Thus, his reckless revelation had been essential towards the objectives he had from you---or was it bound to end up as a fallacy towards the curbs that filled the path up ahead?

Warnings: Gojo Satoru being a teasing, sexy hottie mofo---*kicks whatever is on my way rn* Also, his eyes. EYES I SAY. (ᗒᗩᗕ) Nanami's exasperation. 🤣 Don't worry, we're letting him rest after this. 🤣 He's such a mood---🤣 Satoru's an utter tease here ISTG because of the *cough* physical contact he's gradually giving---*coughs* (I can't help it---!!!) Reader be a simp so bad that she's prolly loathing this moment rn---😭🤣 Btw, I have no idea if Nanami has a nephew or niece, I've only read through a trivia that his Maternal grandfather is Danish but other than that, none.

Tell me if you want to be tagged whenever I publish chapters for 7th Dimension! Send an ask or message me!

A/N: Y'all are seeing Gojo's eyes rn. Enjoy the GIF's created by their rightful creators, bb's! Also, it's very hot in our country rn and writing for Satoru isn't helping a lot. *Sweats more*

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SUPER-DUPER HIGHLY APPRECIATED! IT GIVES ME MUCH MOTIVATION AND INSPO! SORRY IF THERE ARE LOTS OF TYPOS AND GRAMMAR ERRORS! I ain't a professional writer! I'm just a simp and a potato-hoe! LMAO. 🤣

Words: 5.6k+

Disclaimer: PNG's or pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. I only own the plot of this whole fanfic. But, not Jujutsu Kaisen's storyline and the characters themselves. I apologize for the typos or grammatical errors by the way! English isn't my first language so I'm so sorry in advance! Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.

"NANAMI!" Satoru bellowed with a huff, constantly being rejected by the 7:3 sorcerer from the moment they've set the soles of their footwear along the private plane.

Nanami Kento had his pointer finger and thumb over his temple and chin, leaning onto his hand while his own elbow was on the arm rest of his chair, "What?" he phlegmatically responded, nasally as it echoed around the plane, sounding like he was on the verge of having a migraine, "---When will you ever stop pestering me?"

Copious, delectable sweetmeats laid before the table. Various kinds where some were boxed and even wrapped in plastics. Some were shop-made bonbons, desserts in which you've somehow identified the others from their shapes and sizes---knowing full well what they were because it was your country's delicacies. The best of the best kinds. You thought this blindfolded guy who were addicted with mochis only adored one type of junket. No. The man was addicted to any type of sweets and it definitely has kept your mind blank from his overflowing cravings.

He was avidly beaming from the moment you've passed by a shop that were selling tons of different pastries and desserts, triggering his growing appetite especially after such a disputed conversation that you had with him. Whereby, both you and Nanami had been forced to come along as he bought the afters.

Satoru convinced you and Nanami that he had bought them as souvenirs for the students---his students. Howbeit, he probably did but based from how he started munching on them one by one, humming in rapture for the delights he just bought, the souvenirs that were planned to be given won't even arrive from his gluttony and be given to its definite owners back in Japan.

"You've brought back too many sweets from the shop," Nanami began to complain when Satoru was reaching out his hand, a wrapped delicacy that appeared to be too honeyed for Nanami's taste, "---I'm not fond of your choices. You know this."

"Come on, just take one for your nephew or niece!" The blindfolded Jujutsu Sorcerer gestured, shaking the sweetmeat on his hand which was still being held by Satoru. Nanami made it obvious that he wasn't bound to take it eventually as he sighed and briefly tugged off his sunglasses, gently laying them down on his side of the table.

Nanami was probably just jaded over Satoru's company or he was sapped by his prior daily activities as a Jujutsu Sorcerer back in Japan. Cheetah-Tie has been constantly looking through his own watch as if he was keeping tabs on the time that was set in his country home.

Perhaps, he did not like working overtime.

"I don't have a nephew or niece." Kento ended the discussion, sounding deadbeat from Gojo's persistence which left the latter pouting on the sides.

With crossed arms, your face was scrunched in a scrutinizing squinch of your nose and mouth, examining Satoru who had his lips pursed from the incessant rejection he was receiving from Nanami. You couldn't entirely fathom how this man-child who was nuts about sweet courses is actually notorious for being the strongest out of all Jujutsu Sorcerers as much as how he was laying it on thick for you.

This...man is the strongest? that tiny voice inside your heart murmured distantly and completely skeptical over the idea.

After the conversation you had with Satoru, you were determined to be of help.

At least, that was what you wanted to be in their dimension---to consider yourself as someone functional because fate seemed to bring you the motives that your purposes had to have objectives of remembering the sketches you've manage to acquire during your accident.

Furthermore, this was the deal you had with Gojo. He promised to help you return to your rightful dimension in exchange for how you managed to have a grasp of the past and a future that he also had no idea on. You trusted that he could and considered how he bragged himself to be one---the only person who would have the ability to take you back to where you came from.

"Satoru," the torn up sketches were on your hands, giving it another once over as you eyed it for the tenth time today. You've leaned forward, thoroughly snugged on your seat with your legs crossed under your thighs. In some way, the discussion you had with him gave you a feeling of this precipitous, puzzling consolation out of the blue.

It felt like this was just a start of the journey that kept your feet tracked upon their path within their world.

"---Nah. Never mind." In a nonchalant tone, you stated under your breath, your elbows rested on the edges of the table with your cheeks slanted upon your arms. A taupe crayon that you've somehow acquired from the Jujutsu Sorcerer who strangely had Crayola with him, it was encased around your fingers, loosely holding onto the color with a sigh and a begrudging heart because the whole idea was fruitless. On the spur of the moment, the concept was just a postulation that coloring the ripped up sketches would help you remember.

Though, there was no results. You've just seem like a person who was bore to tears over the whole plane ride that you needed to give the sketches colors, deciding that you looked like a kid who was just finding some distraction rather than waiting to arrive back in Japan.

With delicate fingers and a little retouches here and there, the once sharp tip of the taupe Crayola which was now blunt from coloring their skin, their body and faces now had humanistic pigmentation. You were trying to fill the whites with Satoru's skin color, your mind wandering in miniscule moments as your eyes were constantly distant from time to time, unaware of how inane you look to be whilst also having your own peace on your side of the plane with Gojo who seated in front.

You were detached from the current world, wholly unaware that Satoru and Nanami weren't in the middle of their repartees anymore. Unbeknownst to you, the white-haired Sorcerer kept you under his observation, masticating over another newly opened box of chocolate delicacy. His cheeks turgescent because of the action as he silently chewed, analyzing your abrupt decisions as if to spare time as you seemed to be bored over the whole plane ride.

But, no. You actually were just trying to get a hold of anything that would spouse your amnesia into remembering anything.

Now, for the eyes. You were absentminded over the whole activity, a stable breath leaving your mouth. Without even realizing it, your fingers has taken the initiative over choosing what color it wanted. An abnormal hunch that ceased your finger from taking a hold onto. This thoughtless action igniting a lift of your head, oddly staring at the Crayola that felt like it was condemning you for your unforeseen choices.

Why were you reaching out for Blue?

"Oi, Tiny-Chan." Gojo sounded bodacious as ever, seeming to want your attention on him and not on the sketches at hand. Being utterly unaware that he'd hummed in interest from the moment that you stopped dead in your tracks for reaching out a color that he unpredicted due to how assertive you were over how his eyes appeared to be. He smiled broadly by the subliminal gesture, reading through the signs.

So, you really had an idea on what his eyes looked like then?

Satoru took you out of your profound reverie, making you blink twice to yourself before you've lifted your head, your heart leaping a long one on account to his gestures.

Astringent. Melting. The bon-bon that has been leniently popped in between your ajar mouth---clement as he tried to be aside from the person who he, himself describe as someone too compelling for other people to handle in his world. Satoru was venturesome and ignorant over the way how the tip of his slightly calloused, thick thumb grazed over your lower lip, too faraway over feeding you a sweetmeat that he was exhilarated for. His oblivious touch sending unconventional euphoria and whammy which made you slightly choke on the delicacy that was shoved in your mouth.

The latter highly had faith that you were the only one who would appreciate the sweet dish for the evidences of adoring such dessert that he also somehow dotes on. It had a hint of caramel and cooked milk. Upon the first bite has been soft---unbelievably creamy. The aroma filled your palates with cocoa and roasted nuts, bursting with various hints of pungent milk chocolate that you were familiarized with.

Satoru's smile was cordial. The image of his beaming face not helping how your heart was running faster than any other sportscar would ever. Emitting another hum to himself, seeming to be oddly distrait upon glancing over the thumb he'd somehow fed you with. Hence, his succeeding gestures making you choke twice as he brought it over his own lip, giving it a feathery, detectable sup over the melted residues that stained his finger.

Did he---really? Oh, this handsome mofo.

Thus, this guy who was seated crossed leg in front of you, grinned after a while. Entirely taking heed over your dumbfounded reactions.

It was then and there that you knew he was having the jollification over your wordless ripostes. He just knew or is probably assertive that he could have any woman skipping hearts for him.

There was this fitful urge to break all the Crayolas that were haphazardly scattered around because of him--- just his damned presence alone.

His supercilious, patronizing self can actually be treacherous for anyone, especially to you.

"It's yummy, right?" Gojo taunted and lowly chuckled with a snigger, leaning his broad back on his own seat with arms crossed, watching you like a hawk beneath his mask.

You could feel your entire face rush like you were being cooked, metaphorically speaking---think of it as a sunny side up egg that's constantly being turned from one side and to the other, repeatedly until it was burnt. It was that kind of temperature---too excessive for your feeble emotions and heart to handle.

Heedless over the scowl on your face, you were galled over how you were being mindlessly teased on, not entirely being a fan over how vivifying could Gojo's provocations be ever since after the discussion you had with him.

With each quivering swallow of the bon-bon that has been fed, the more it basks in the honeyed taste. You've heard Satoru shift on his seat, your nerves still unsettled prior to what has happened. The torn manga panels sitting in between the space of your thumb and pointer finger, utterly mindful that it shivered in the slightest. It unraveled the truth that your heart was fluttering, "T-Thish ishn't you. I shwear." your cheeks were tumefied from the sugary cate as you quietly stammered, awkwardly clearing your throat.

Nanami seemed to be like he was resting. As far as how you could perceive from the moment you've laid a quick glance at Satoru's co-worker, taking heed that the 7:3 sorcerer had his eyes closed and his blonde head rested upon his seat. You were safe then. The guy's placidity felt like he had a habit of observing everyone in his own solitude, it was making you dubious that he probably had been criticizing your every move.

"Wanna bet?" Gojo skittishly offered, leaning forward as he brought an elbow over the edge of the table, a palm rested upon his chin, his head cocked to the side while he stared beneath his mask. Would he show it to you today? His eyes that you have been curious about since day one?

Why did it felt like you didn't want to then?

"---If I make you believe that this is really me, would you bake me sweets whenever I want to?"

Satoru patiently waited for you to answer. Though, he expected you would take the bait considering how he'd built up the intrigue a little too long now that his presence has kept you restless day by day, "Just that?"

"You want more to bet?" the latter bargained, already listing all the other proposals he had in mind. His thoughts grasping in the bids that came tumbling down his pretty head. Heedful of the others that left him in wonder to behold, regardless that most were wholesome.

Yet, he least envisaged the ones that remained to be...somehow, insalubrious. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer had to clear his own throat to that and emphatically omit them out of his imaginary bulleted list of proposals he wanted to offer.

"Deal, then." you consented with a determined cross of your arms, leaning back as you've crossed your fidgety legs over the other, the soles to your feet felt oddly warm from the dying anticipation.

Satoru lifted his chin in a minimal amount, appearing to be taken aback by the swift acceptance towards his offers. This meant you were going to bake him sweets whenever he wanted no matter what time of the day, right? Even if it would've been at three in the morning? "W-Wait---I think I may want to add more to it---" his thoughts were in a jumble of mess, the bidding of avarice making him stumble over his own words as he held a palm over his own face whenever he was being asked questions that made him think twice.

You've cut his train of thoughts, expectant that he would add more to it and your heart was pounding for what he actually wanted to append in the proposition aside from cooking for him, "I'm waiting..."

"This is unfair! You demand too much from me!" Satoru dramatically bellyached, clutching his chest over how you didn't give him anymore chances upon changing his manifestos.

"I'm only demanding to see if you truly have eyes or not!"

"You're the only woman who's difficult to be swayed and it's already been a week!" He pursed his lips upon the finger pointed at his face, quietly grousing like a child being upbraided for his nonsensical choices over choosing what flavor of ice cream was better---vanilla or chocolate? Satoru would've probably chosen both. Ice cream was ice cream. No matter how people argued over which flavor was best, it was still sweet. Sugary. "---It's like you don't trust me a lot. A stubborn, non-sorcerer who never believed 'the strongest'. I can't believe this girl,"

"Stop whispering. I can hear you." you nasally sighed, comprehending what he was trying to whisper as if he wanted you to actually comprehend his fatuous bleats. Your feet were purposelessly being shaken due to waiting too long for him to just take them off. It wasn't like he was keeping his eyes hidden from anyone because it's where he gets his abilities right? your consciousness asked that inner voice inside your head, "---Besides, it's difficult to trust a blindfolded man who seems inconspicuous to me."

Satoru had a palm over his chest, a grin breaking his lips apart from how you claimed him to be unimposing. You certainly did not just say that. He thought to himself as he wordlessly huffed. This comeback just fueled his burning pride into his steadfast determination upon making you realize who you were actually talking to, "Inconspicuous? Me? You sure about that? Once you see my handsome face, you promise not to fall in love, alright?"

Your mouth kept shut at that from his cavalier attitude over the whole idea of it. Was it how he sounded? how brusque those words escaped his mouth like it was a point that will never come across his mind---ever.

"Because...Wait, a second---I've said this to Yuta before," Gojo raised a finger, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts as he fished out his phone from his own pockets as he mindlessly muttered out a name that you never heard of yet. Yuta? who was he?

"---Love is the most twisted curse of all," he continued as a matter of fact, ever so bluntly while scrolling through his phone.

Satoru made it seem like he detested the whole concept of what love does to people. Your mind went blank at that, passing through the chasm of forgotten memories that rung in a modicum of taking a trip down the memory lane. It sounded familiar? where have you heard it aside from him?

You squinted your eyes back at him, skeptical over the whole 'quote' being said. He probably had a bundle of quotes saved in his notepad to give the impression of being a bibliophile, "Did you really have to look through your phone while saying that? Was that a quote from Tumblr or Pinterest?"

You had no idea if Tumblr or Pinterest existed in this dimension you were currently in. Though, you weren't limiting over the whole idea because if Jennifer Lawrence breathed in the same dimension you were in right now then it was mostly possible that Tumblr, Wattpad or Pinterest existed as well. Moreover, one of your plans during your stay within Satoru's dimension was to also search through other actors if they were also alive and kicking.

"It's mine! I had it saved in my phone," he assertively avowed, sounding to have at least a hint of exasperation over your harmless taunts for his witticism, churning a stifled snort of ha-ha from you. Gojo haphazardly tossed his phone to the side of the table as he brought a hand to purposelessly brush over his fluffy white, luscious locks.

"Wait, who's Yuta---" Your sentence was brought to an untimely end. The sudden nosiness you had for this person named Yuta has been cut short, such topic that was brisk enough to pull you away from the restless interest you had for Satoru's eyes had just been a fleeting---temporary stratagem to stabilize the consternation for it.

Satoru shouldn't have just whisked down his blindfolds without warning.

He had been a tearaway over giving you the Elysian Fields. Satoru was tacit. Thorny as you could see fit---how you discerned from the grin on his face as his thick, long fingers gently skimmed along the satiny Stygian covers of his blindfolds, his actions never taken seriously from your standpoint as he seemed to have a habit of grazing over them whenever you've stared. You were self-reliant that he would prolong the revelation of his eyes because if he wanted to, he would've done it already.

Yet, from the moment he'd leaned forward, the silken mask being brought down in bullet time with a smile on his face, you knew your soul departed from the perdition and then towards Elysium.

You had no idea that you were capable of seeing the Ethers; the bluest of blue---celestial Arctic blue that could define the islands of the Blessed. Satoru was of paramount pestilential for having eyes that could beckon an ailing saint, reinvigorate your flawed soul that traipsed along the crippled path towards Siberia. Your eyes were ridiculously in no match to his as you continued to rivet. It was nearly impossible for one to tear the Zion and have them trapped inside his eyes, the shattered utopias. Where as those exuberant, albino eyelashes and eyebrows influenced to be the gates towards the promised land.

Gojo Satoru had the right to know that he was paradisiacal. Hence, you were beginning to abhor that he was breathing just right in front of you---existed to be real and true.

"Cat got your tongue, Tiny-Chan?" Satoru had his blindfolds around his neck now, knowing full well that he was looking and that you wholly had his attention. The way your mouth went ajar, how you could hear nothing but only the pleasantries of his voice that filled the void of ruptured memories which appeared to be gradually filled in by his existence, knocking together new ones. His white, fluffy hair that has weighed down and cloaked his abnormally, attractive face made you clench your fists tighter which sat on your thighs---igniting a thorough feeling of bitterness because you expected less---tried to anticipate it less.

"---I told you, I'm not blind. I can see well. Hm." he hummed, relishing in the pride that he was gaining from your stupor, "---Probably, a little too much."

"Really." you huffed more to yourself, forcing to shut your eyes closed as you quickly looked away. Straightaway, having the perfect conceptualization of how he indeed appeared to bear a resemblance of. The skies. Also hellfire in addition to his menacing qualities.

In every way, you were now convinced he was the man on the sketches; the man whom he pertained to be one drawn upon the fallen, torn up-papers where you had no idea how it was created nor scraped by.

Ceaseless native sacred oaths of words filled your mind for the exact image of what you have for Gojo Satoru. You were entirely bugged from how he recklessly surprised you with. How dare he.

"SATORU, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BLIND AND NOT HAVE EYES."

You've heard him emit the loudest laugh that he could. A tumultuous one which has made Nanami open an eye to have an idea as to what was happening to the both of you. He actually couldn't rest due to the raucous. The 7:3 sorcerer concluded that you and Satoru have gone all topsy-turvy whenever you were with him. Presumably, It was not a good one that he needed to avoid you both on every occasion.

Consequent to Satoru's guffaws, your next retaliation were immediately interrupted by a flash of images that caught you off guard, kindling a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as your head twitched in pain. Your posture stiffening from the edge of your seat as it flashed before your eyes.

"Don't force her, Gojo." Kento went back into closing his eyes after seeing how you've stiffen from your side of the plane, sighing as he could hear Gojo chortle from his side, thoroughly finding amusement to your surprise. The Jujutsu Sorcerer was dense to see through your mental crisis because he was too immersed over your backlash towards his eyes.

"You said so yourself and Shoko as well. She's handling some kind of eccentric brain injury," His friend added as a matter of fact.

Upon seeing Satoru's eyes, there was this inconceivable light switch that clicked within you. Rheumy towards some parts---several people who were omitted in the visions that paraded within the mirage of memories you hardly could put a name to. It were quick, a foresight of these people whom you were with, how they were involved in a bellicose battle that you couldn't comprehend.

Seeing the visions for Nanami floored you to say the least. He held onto a butchers knife that was wrapped in white fabric, dotted in black, appearing to be adept at handling the tool that he tightly grasped onto, the semblance was caught in a volant chance of not knowing what or who he was caught in a skirmish with.

Thus, the one you had with Satoru had been different. There were no abnormal tools involved. No paraphernalia included nor used. The vision you had only consisted of him and him alone. His masked eyes that he eventually tugged the satiny cotton off his face, manifesting the intensity of what he had been concealing. His face coruscated in a gleam of a tawny shade, your vantage point of illusions favored him alone, the surroundings blurry enough not to know what was happening.

Howbeit, you've heard two words---an echo of his silvery voice that filled the abyss of your memories.

"Ryoiki Tenkai."

Satoru's laugh gradually subsided when he'd given heed how you stiffened on your seat. You seemed to be in some sort of pain as your palm held onto that particular side of your head. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer was knocked sideways, emitting a perceptible 'Huh?' from his side of the plane when he'd quickly and carelessly grabbed onto his recent sunglasses on the side of the table that he usually wore, instantly wearing it on.

Satoru cocked his head to the side, trying to get a good look---scrutinizing you beneath his sunglasses. Might as well say that the sorcerer was also heedless of the fact that he'd grabbed onto a bunch of tissues at full tilt when he'd gotten a sight of your nose bleeding before him.

Without thinking twice, he'd outstretch his long arms to reach over your side of the seat, leniently polishing off the blood out of your nose with a grin to his face. "H-Hey!" the second time he was bound to rub the crimson liquid away, you already had your face in a twist, nose scrunched and fighting shy of his odd need to do it for you.

What was with him and his need for physical touches?

Gojo balled up the freshly stained tissues, tossing them behind, carelessly doing so as he crossed his arms against his chest. He reached out for his blindfold that surrounded his neck, planning to just wear his sunglasses throughout the whole day. "Heh. You could've concealed your bleeding nose after seeing how handsome I am," the latter loosened the knot of his mask, slipping the blindfold inside his pocket instead.

You cleared your throat, the abrupt visions kept your stomach heavy and shaky. This kept you disoriented as you've also realized how this simple visions required such an excruciating pain from your head---that it even gotten to the point of having your nose bleeding without taking heed of it.

"Satoru," you distantly called out to him, lifting a hand to lightly damp the back of your hand through the undersides of your once-bleeding-nose and you couldn't help but shake your head from all the rendered flashbacks that you absolutely have no idea on. Fate had a peculiar way of giving you such a responsibility that has kept you giving the big why's in a literal caps locked way of writing it.

Who were they really. Why did you even manage to have memories of them when you knew better yourself that they were just strangers from a heterodox world you never knew, existed.

"Ryoiki Tenkai: Domain Expansion? What does it do?"

Nanami suddenly shut his eyes open to that, hearing you say the words out of your mouth---dispassionate as it sounded like you were vexed by the consequences of how you acquired the information of Jujutsu Sorcery without anyone of help. As much as he thought of until he began to give Satoru a look of judgement.

"You told her that?" Nanami was skeptical as he asked, chiding the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer along the grumbles beneath his breath, "---You might as well tell the history of it all then."

Satoru had to cease popping another bon-bon inside his mouth from the moment you've uttered them out of your mouth. Ryoiki Tenkai, that is. He'd given his friend a glimpse of nonchalance, going on into shooting down the sweetmeat inside his mouth as he shrugged to himself. He might as well go with the flow with it. Perhaps, showing you his eyes has actually been a good sign after all. If he could've just known it sooner, Gojo should've decided to wake you up with the image of him without the blindfold instead.

"Nanami, I didn't." he was coolheaded as he admitted, no ounce of taunt or lies laced on the ends of his sentence. Hence, he'd turn his head to take in the sight that you weren't giving the heed he wanted from you; the attention that he was suddenly lacking after giving you the privilege of showing you the beauty and pain of his eyes.

It felt like you were intentionally doing so as you were scrutinizing Nanami from his side of the plane, eyes squinted back at the 7:3 sorcerer who was now wearing his distinct sunglasses, achieving at least a nap with the both of you around was impossible. He mindlessly decided in determination.

Were you seriously ignoring Gojo Satoru now after given such a prestigious moment?

"It's...Ugh---how do I---" Gojo thought twice, not wanting to get into the specifics of this with you. He was cautious upon how to explain it in a non-sorcerer way where you could be able to understand. The latter shifted on his seat, his sunglasses fitted like a glove against his tall nose bridge while he gazed fixedly on you.

His words were broken off. Before you could say knife, you were already hollering out for the 7:3 sorcerer which got Satoru pursing his lips. Much to Gojo's chagrin, this felt entirely premeditated.

Unless, his presence---the full image of his eyes alone were distracting you a lot that you were making it seem like he didn't exist around you at all?

Satoru couldn't help but smirk covertly at that, basking in the self-esteem that powered his umbrage over your deliberate cold-shoulder.

"Kento," you uttered out of nowhere, calling out for his real name just like as you did to Satoru even on the first day, your eyes skimmed through the Cheetah-tie he wore, having hunches towards the connection it had with the tool he uses during the fight you saw inside your head.

"---My head's hurting. I guess this is going to be my new-normal. But, please don't cut my head off with your cow-butcher knife or something." a pause of breath, you sighed in relief when the painful tapping along your temples seemed to come to a stop, "---I knew you had something under your sleeves."

Satoru's Arctic eyes grew wide, to say he was surprised was the least way to express it. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer was dumbfounded from how collected it sounded out of your mouth; how your notions were of guarantee as if you've seen fragments of memories inside your head.

You did. You certainly did and Gojo was sure of that.

"You've never shown her that. Right, Nanami?"

Nanami stared back at you with a lackadaisical glint in his eyes, his mouth in a tight thin line as he hummed back at Gojo, giving out a nod to affirm his queries.

"Ha! I won!" Satoru wildly congratulated himself, moving recklessly on his seat as he rowdily clapped for his success. His grin resembling of a Cheshire cat when you still weren't giving him the attention he was entirely incognizant of. It felt like an impalpable itch that was stinging his soaring amour-propre. "---She's going to bake sweets for me right? I actually won the bet?" he gave a nonchalant point of his finger towards you.

Your nose were tightly scrunched from the uncomfortable image of Satoru and his all---without the mask. The representation of what the wide blue yonder would've likely take shape of. Gojo's eyes were like a pie in the sky---an ethereal dream that lingered wretchedly inside your head and you wanted to abolish. It kept your heart in such a cramped space that were giving you the jitters, spurning fidgety toes and feet that you had to straightaway take your ass off your plane seat, deciding on an idea that would probably keep you more at ease rather than suffer throughout the whole day.

You've rather---wanted---chosen to engage within the stolic presence of Cheetah-tie rather than Heavenly Eyes instead.

"Nanami! Let's exchange seats!" you've tried to leave your seat in a rush. How obvious you could be that Satoru's existence and eyes caught you entirely stupefied and enthralled. This was too much.

Gojo Satoru was just...too much.

Hence, as expected---he was relishing in the response, luxuriating over your apprehension like how you expected him to.

Your shameless rush of escape were cut-short by Gojo, he held out his hand and hauled you down to your seat with his large, ample hands that suddenly felt like thunderbolt being struck to your skin, terrifyingly bothering, giving you goosebumps that augmented the belabors of your heart. He kept you steady in your seat and probably had plans to stress you out even more, "Haha! No, you don't!" he laughed out loud, his taunting giggles making you utterly cognizant of your own pounding, heartbeat. You couldn't help but grumble down incoherent words that were in your own language.

Satoru's fingers that encased your arm felt like gasoline inciting the captivation over his existence. It added---intensified over the revelation, striking you dumb especially now that you had the window to identify and discern whenever he was staring or gazing like the nuisance whom people who surrounded him, specified.

"You're sitting right in front of me until we reach Japan and until you're entirely convinced over my compelling existence."

He could be the headache that you'd straight out wouldn't mind, that tiny voice of subconsciousness trailed off in the back of your mind, making you stiffen on your own seat again---your heart racing back and forth when your frame of reference were filled with the image of Satoru who had his gaze fixated on you alone, a roguish glint in his eyes as he surveilled over his Stygian sunglasses. You've felt his thick, long fingers knocking your cheeks together---gamesomely squashing them as if to poke borax over your indignation.

"---Heh! If only I knew then and there, I should've shown you my eyes from the moment I've introduced myself, Tiny-Chan."

His eyes could've been the vault to heaven. Hence, it can even be described as the dome to the nether regions. It was a broach to the memories of tribulation that was meant to be remembered and expectantly plead for clemency in order to forget an impalpable curse that only you would get to see---which not even the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer could ameliorate to hereafter.

Tiny-Chan be hysterical rn---I mean---I would too---Satoru prolonged it far enough for reader to be mad af over seeing his eyes---😭😍 I dunno whether to be embarrassed for her all the time or want to help her from the frustration she feels---🤣

*Suddenly Googles: "HOW TO BE X READER, HOW TO BE Y/N, HOW TO BE TINY-CHAN?"*

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milkyway-writes · 3 years

Text

i’m not ready for that s.r.

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader (anyone could read though)

summary: Even though Steve has been living in modern times for a couple of years now, he still finds himself not used to the present, especially when it comes to women. But when he meets you, an outspoken girl who completely embodies the kind of woman “he’s not ready for,” Steve is forced to reevaluate what he wants.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dry humping, unprotected sex, sex in a hotel room, a small age gap (but not mentioned much), probably some typos and/or bad grammar, disregard for card games and 60′s music

word count: 2,828

author’s note: This is my first time writing a fic! So, tell me what you think and if you’d like more stuff from me.

After waking up in a world filled with people dressed in unfamiliar clothing, using confusing language, and carrying around these tiny devices they called “phones,” Steve experienced the expected amount of disassociation. He said things which earned him weird looks, struggled to understand modern references, and sometimes secretly wished he could just go back to his own time.

But if anything, Steve Rogers was determined.

He kept a notepad to track the new things he learned and reviewed them in his spare time. He made an effort to listen to the radio and watch popular TV shows. Steve even managed to tailor his wardrobe to a certain degree. Except for the khakis. The khakis were essential.

Despite his acclimation and newfound understanding of the 21st century, Steve still struggled with women. And in all honesty, he doesn’t even feel that open to dating. He’s completely content with simply working and living his life, romance not much of a priority of his.

But Natasha keeps pushing it.

“What about that girl from accounting?” she says, “Laura, Lisa…”

"Lillian,” Steve answers, “lip piercing, right?"

"Yeah, she's cute."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that.”

•••••

So, when you show up with a total disregard for authority, a smile that could fool the devil, and a snarky attitude all complete with a cute little nose piercing, Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with you.

Your words are much bolder than any woman he knew from the 40’s. You behave with a certain level of confidence and self-assuredness that it’s impossible to believe that you’re only in your twenties. And you don’t shy away from showing men up, never one to hold your tongue. Steve notices that you don’t mind interrupting people. You seem to get a glint in your eye each time he clenches his jaw after you’ve cut him off.

Everything about you is overwhelming to Steve.

Any time he tries to correct you, you scoff, blowing air through your plump lips. Always rolling those brown eyes in annoyance. (It makes Steve want to scream.)

Nothing is ever easy with you. There is always a rebuttal, or some type of teasing remark, or simply a look that tells him “you can’t tell me what to do.” It enrages him. Steve doesn’t think he has ever met a person who could find a way to fight him on every single thing.

Now, as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips, freshly-manicured nails on display, Steve wonders how he’ll ever manage to get through to you.

•••••

You hadn’t known much about Captain America before you’d agreed to work with him and Natasha when S.H.I.E.L.D. started falling apart.

You had been working for the agency for a while now, assisting in the capture of criminal individuals as a sort of immunity for your own crimes. Your skills were too valuable to waste, and honestly, they knew you’d escape any prison they put you in anyway. Despite this, you weren’t the most reliable.

You often took risks, and your youth raised a sort of concern amongst other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. No one trusted a girl whose main motivation to be an agent was to avoid prison. And because of this, Nick Fury did not bring you on for the Avengers Initiative right away. You needed time to grow, time to figure out your priorities.

For two years, you focused on your development, learning how to control your abilities and use them most effectively, and in the meantime, you only took on small missions. You were happy with this, so happy that when Fury began reaching out to you with the intent to bring you back on for more advanced missions, you promptly avoided them.

One quiet afternoon, you were feeling the soil of your succulent, trying to figure out if the plant needed watering when you got the call that Nick Fury was pronounced dead.

Immediately, your stomach dropped.

Your mind was racing as you rushed to the hospital, hoping that this was all some sick joke. A test. Something Fury had comprised to teach you a lesson.

Natasha noticed as you stood frozen at the door of the hospital room. Your heart ached seeing him lie there lifeless.

While you pretended that you didn’t care about him, Fury had always been important to you. He had given you a second chance when you didn’t even think you deserved it. He saw potential in you when others saw you as a delinquent. This grief, coupled with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised, led you to agree to work with Natasha and her new friend, Steve Rogers.

•••••

Since the beginning, your presence had been an immediate concern to Steve. Along with your untamed attitude, he didn’t like the way you would make hasty decisions that left him wondering if you were still alive. He had to bite his tongue at your stubbornness. And each roll of your eyes pushed Steve further and further to the edge. After a while, he had had enough and pulled you to the side to express his disapproval.

You stare at him expectantly with your hands still on your hips, waiting to hear why he’s singled you out.

He lets out a breath, “these antics of yours have got to stop.”

You instantly laugh. Because he has to be kidding.

It takes everything in him to remain calm when you flash him a smile and saunter away, throwing a “oh loosen up, Captain,” over your shoulder.

He has to stop himself from watching your hips sway. He catches your wrist. “No. Not ‘loosen up.’ You need to be more responsible.”

“Well you need to understand that I’m not a soldier,” you yank your arm back. “I’ll follow your plan,” you offer, “but sometimes things don’t go as planned and we have to make adjustments,” you say, speaking slowly as if Steve’s a child.

He steps closer, now towering over your small frame. “Your ‘adjustments’ almost always result in dangerous situations.”

“Really?” You cock your head to the side, “Is that right?”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“So, this is coming from the man who jumped out of an elevator?” Your perfectly arched eyebrow raises tauntingly. “Right?”

You chuckle as he rolls his eyes. You don’t miss the hint of a smile in them.

•••••

You do eventually try to be more of a team player, sticking to the plan when you can. You figured you’d be working with them more often, so it was in your best interest to make yourself easy to work with. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.

Steve is grateful that you don’t pull any surprises when the Winter Soldier makes his attack. The revelation that it was his best friend already enough to throw him off.

Surprisingly, when Steve decides to go after Bucky, you offer to join him and Sam. Your excuse being that you don’t trust two men to get the job done.

Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to your life before. Working with Steve was exciting. He was exciting. The way he’d catch your eyes after you’d say something snarky made your stomach flip because there was a hint of a threat in them.

You enjoyed the way he wasn’t afraid to touch you. He liked to grab your arm and pull you to him when you didn’t listen. He’d once backed you up against a wall when he thought you weren’t telling him the full story pertaining to the mission. And while he was angry, you couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to have him take you right then and there.

You had come to terms with the fact that you wanted Steve Rogers. You just didn’t know if he’d want someone like you. You were aware that he probably hadn’t encountered many women like you in his past life.

•••••

While your eye rolls and sassy comments do remain, Steve finds himself enjoying your presence despite himself. The struggle between the two of you slowly morphing into playful teasing, teetering the line between that and sexual tension.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” Steve asks as he lays down an ace of spades.

You grimace and tuck your king of hearts back into your hand in embarrassment. “We’re on a mission, silly.” You giggle, the diamond in your nose catching the light.

“Mhm very funny,” he says. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You don’t say anything. The only sound coming from your breathing and the Solomon Burke song that’s playing through your phone speaker.

You hum along as you pretend to search your hand for a card to play.

Steve nudges your knee. You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t answered him or because you still haven’t put down a card.

“You mean how’d I end up doing this? Working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He nods.

“It’s a long story,” you manage to let out.

“We’ve got time.”

You sigh and place your cards down on the mattress knowing you were gonna lose anyway.

“A while back, I lost someone…someone very important to me,” you say, “and all I wanted was to hurt the people who took them from me.” You glance up to meet Steve’s eyes, “one thing led to another, and I sort of lost myself. I hurt people in ways I never intended to, caused the kind of pain that,” you search for the words, “that I had always been so afraid to feel.”

“I was so blinded by rage,” you shake your head, “I just completely forgot my morals.”

You feel the bed shift, and Steve reaches out for your hand.

“Long story short, Fury offered me a job. Said I could use my skills for good. And next thing you know I’m going on these crazy missions and catching ‘bad guys,’” you say using finger quotes.

You sigh, “you must think the absolute worst of me now, huh?”

Steve chuckles, “no, not at all.” He pauses and his eyebrows crease. “It actually makes me respect you more.”

You let out a laugh, “well then, sir, you are most definitely twisted.”

He shrugs, “maybe I am.”

You notice that he never let go of your hand, and for a second you swear you feel a flutter in your abdomen. Lightly, you slide your fingers up his arm, tracing the veins. He doesn’t move or protest. Instead, he brings his other hand to rest on your knee. You look up at him as his hand moves from your knee up your thigh, gripping you firmly where your shorts end.

Steve looks at you for approval, and when you nod, he pulls you in by your hips and leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours.

You haven’t felt like this in awhile, and it takes a lot of strength to hold back a whine. Steve continues to tease you, only letting his lips lightly touch yours while rubbing circles into your hips under your shirt. Impatiently, you link your hands together behind his head, and when you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, Steve finally leans in, letting his lips press against yours.

Almost instantly, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. The playing cards from earlier are hastily pushed aside as Steve scoots back, bringing you with him.

His hands find your hips again as he sucks on your bottom lip. You softly grind into him, causing Steve to groan into your mouth. He works to control himself. He hadn’t expected it to feel this way with you. So desperate, so needing.

You can feel his hardness through the material of his sweatpants, making your arousal even more apparent.

Steve leans down to kiss your neck. The feeling of his tongue makes you buck your hips, searching for some type of friction. His hand travels up your side and comes to cup one of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden.

This must give him an idea as he moves to pull your shirt over your head. He grabs you again and takes your nipple in his mouth. You moan, continuing to grind onto him as his hands cup your ass. At this point, you’re sure that your arousal is leaking through your shorts.

Steve feels completely lost in you, your body setting him on fire and awaking something within him he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.

He continues his assault on your breasts as you fight to control your arousal. You feel his cock twitch under you. “Please, Steve,” you say breathlessly.

“Please what?” He mumbles around your breasts.

“I need you.”

Those seem to be the words he needed as Steve promptly flips you over, roughly yanking your shorts down. He tosses his shirt off as you grab onto the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off. He pushes you back on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his knee press into your cunt and let out a moan.

Steve grabs your face, kissing you sloppily, and trails his hand down your body. You nearly grind onto his hand as he places his thumb over your clit and rubs slow circles over it.

“You like that, honey?” He teases as he rubs you over your panties.

You nod, biting your lip.

He grabs your chin, “I said do you like it? Answer me.”

You cry out, “yes, Steve yes,” You whimper, “please I need more.”

He scoffs, “who would’ve thought to get you to act right, I’d just have to play with this pretty pussy?”

You let out a pitiful whine.

“Now you wanna be a good girl huh?”

You’re afraid you’re going to cum just from his words when he stops and drags your panties down so slowly that you want to scream. The smug look on Steve’s face makes your face burn. He’s enjoying this too much.

Once they’re off, Steve settles between your thighs, making you look him in the eyes before reaching his hand down and dragging the head of his cock from your folds to your clit. You moan as he gently taps it against your clit a few times and makes a comment about how wet you are. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he lines himself up at your entrance. Steve groans as he eases into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.

He bottoms out, and you both moan. Steve begins to thrust, and you’re already so worked up that you know you won’t last long. He brings his hand down to rub your clit causing you to cry out.

His thrusts become more forceful. Your eyes close tightly, your sharp nails digging into his shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours, “I know you want it, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum.”

His words shock you but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core.

“Come on, honey, cum for me.” Steve says as he thrusts into you. Your walls spasm around his cock, causing him to groan into your neck. He never lets up on his thrusts though, continuing to slam into you as your first orgasm ripples through your body.

“You feel so good around my cock, baby,” he brings a hand up to lightly wrap around your neck.

You groan in response feeling your abdomen tighten once again.

You can tell Steve is close now, his thrusts becoming frantic and rushed. You clutch onto him as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. Your name falling off of his lips repeatedly in your ear.

“Cum inside me, Steve,” you plead, “I wanna feel you.” He groans at your words, and you feel his hand tighten around your throat. You look at him, and his eyes are dark with lust, you feel yourself clench around his length. The look he’s giving you fills you with a primal need. You plead one more time, pushing Steve over the edge. His thrusts begin to slow, the feeling of him filling you up is enough to bring about another orgasm.

You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sleep begins to take you, and you drift off with Steve guiding you to lay your head on his chest.

With one hand caressing the side of your head, Steve stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room, Nina Simone’s voice floating out of your phone.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,”

“And I’m feeling good.”

•••••

Initially, seeing a girl like you would have made Steve doubt himself.

But now, he knows he’s ready for you as he sits next to you holding your hand as you prepare to get your first tattoo.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x black!reader #black reader #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america x reader #enhanced!reader #steve rogers x enhanced!reader #captain america smut #chris evans

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Text

How bnha boys would ask you out (Big three edition)

Request: Since you watched Season four, can I have some Mirio and Tamaki headcanons? Similar to your "how they ask you out" post before.

I assume you mean separately because I am not comfortable with writing poly.

Pairing: Mirio togata x reader, Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Notes: Reader is their underclassman, a student of 1A, met them during the work-study arc. Condition: the reader is single. Female reader I guess.

Warning: Just big Fluffs.

Mirio Togata

Before

Sunshine. That is what Mirio is, a pure package of warmth and enthusiasm. If you are shy like Tamaki, you would probably envy his outgoing spirits.

He notices you as soon as he first sets foot in your classroom. You sat there with a hand underneath your chin, looks up to your senpais with those shiny eyes. He seen you around the campus before, also seen your exceptional performance at the sports festival.

When they were introduced as the big three, he did not miss that bright light of admiration in your eyes. Congratulations, you successfully peaked Mirio’s interests. During his short speech, his eyes would circle around the classroom, resting on you for a few more seconds.

When he trained with you that afternoon, whether you are a long-ranged or melee combatant, Mirio would knock you down the first chance he got. Would not want you to hurt yourself recklessly, right? He also thinks how you try to counter him is absolutely adorable.

Nejire and Tamaki notices the extra attention Mirio is giving you. While Neijire would tease him and jokes about it, Tamaki just silently assess you with his intense glare. Mirio is happy that they both think of you as a hard-working kohai, and their approval is just icing on the cake.

After the beat-up training, Mirio approaches you causally and ask you to train together sometime. To make his intentions seems less suspicious, he also extends that invitation to Midoriya.

After a couple of training sessions, you start to warm up to him. You no longer seen him only as Togata Senpai, just Mirio the friendly upperclassman. But he is still not satisfied with the result.

His quirk is made for stalking. I do not accept counter arguments. You all seen how he scares Midoriya Izuku. Probably stalks you as a pastime, you wonder if you are losing your sanity since you always feel like someone is watching you.

During

After another intense afterschool training session, Mirio would ask you to get dinner with him in the city.

“You’re working so hard lately; you deserve a break! Why don’t we go get a bite in the city? My treat.”

You accept delightfully, did not think of it as a date. Just your upperclassman friend treating you with something tasty. You chatted with him about all sorts of things, such as your homework. It feels nothing more then hanging out with a pal.

It is when he tries to kiss you on your way back, you realize something is off.

If you accept, he will become eccentric. You thought the normal Mirio is energic enough, but this mode, good gracious.

Lifting you up by the knees with his strong arms, he will give you a bright smile that can make you blind. “Oh! My dearest (y/n)! Thank you, thank you, thank you! We’re going to be the cutest couple!”

If you flinch and distance yourself from him, that is another story.

“(y/n), not going to kiss your date goodnight?”

When you explain you see him nothing more then a friend, Mirio would laugh. It honestly creeps you out since you expect him to yell, or even show you a hint of anger. Then he would bid you goodnight as if nothing is wrong.

The next day you found an elaborate flame rose bouquet on you desk, without a single clue of who the sender is. Mina would start rambling about how sweet your secret admirer is, but you just felt shivers down your spine.

You texted him. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, anything for you.”

When you meet him in a nearby café few hours after, his usual enthusiastic attitude is still present. The sunshine boy sure knows how to hide any stormy clouds.

Mirio urges you to reconsider, sing you praises that made you blush like mad. You told him you would. “I just never thought of you in that way, but I guess there’s no harm in trying.”

Once the sunflower got you, he will spoil you, probably not with expensive gifts, but with all of his attention.

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

Tamaki Amajiki

I relate to him on so many levels, you have no idea

Before

If his best friend is the sun, shines proudly with endless energy, Tamaki is the moon, shy and would hide behind clouds. (I love this analogy you cannot blame me)

Just like Mirio as soon as he saw you in 1A classroom you got his attention.

Nejire and Mirio would notice how his gaze linger on you more then others, and tease relentlessly until Tamaki is flustered mess.

He asks Mirio to go easy on you on the beat-up training, but Mirio said if you want to get strong, he should not.

It takes a while to get Tamaki even say hello to you, however his eyes will not be left you when you are in the same room as him.

Surprise, surpise, it’s Nejire who come asking for your number, when you ask her why she needs it, she just tilts her head and say: “Tamaki said he wants to train with you sometimes! Here’s his number for you.”

If you are aware of the surroundings you could find a red-cheeked ravenette hiding in the shadows. You wonder why you, out of all your classmates who all have just as much potential.

Tamaki likes to observe small details. How you wave at your friends, how you dash through the hallways as the bells rang, how your sight follow pretty butterflies, how the rice sticks on your chin at lunch time. He got it all down.

You need to text him first, no doubts here. “It’s kouhai (y/n). Hado Senpai said you want to train together? When are you free?”

He felt he has been run over by a train. Is this what having a crush is like? No wonder why people act so stupid while in love.

His reply would be short. Tamaki is not doing that to be rude, he is just at a loss of words. Even though you would never ignore him even if he made typos.

When you offer him a bottle of water after training, he would freeze. After ten seconds or so, he would snap back, take your gift, and mutter “thank you” before running away, leaving you there confused.

From then on you two would text on a regular basis. You ask him to help with your homework and training, he would ask you about how to deal with social anxiety (if you are outgoing like his best friend). You figured he is a lot more expressive through texts then in person, even though you still need to initiate conversions most of the time.

Tamaki starts to check his phone so often, even when he is at work with Fat Gum. The pro hero would also tease him (poor him, just endless teasing) about his “little girlfriend”. The older man laughs as Tamaki stutter how you two are only friends.

During

After he answers some of your questions concerning an assignment, Tamaki offers to buy you ice cream. You met him by the gate, in your casual clothes.

As you two are walking back licking your treats, you notice how his dark hair has fallen in front because of the afternoon breeze.

“Ah, your hair is getting in the way. Let me help you.” Your fingers brush his face lightly as you tug strands of raven hair behind his pointy ears. His blush confirms your suspicions. Rumors has been swirling around about you two being more then regular friends, since Tamaki never spends much time with anyone apart from his two best friends.

“(y/n) ...” He dips his head as he finishes the ice cream, screaming inside. What if you say no? How is he going to face you afterwards? What if you say YES by some insane fluke?

“Would you...consider d-doing this s-some other time? W-with me, I mean.” Tamaki instantly regretted it as soon as it comes out. He seen enough rom com to know this is not how you ask a girl out.

If you said “Yes, of course!”, Tamaki would panic. He was not expecting you to, he seen how the other boys in school gazes at you. “Can you pinch me, please?” The sharp pain confirms this is all real, not some wild dream. Very insecure, he would get jealous easily. If you have male friends, he will not interfere (you need your own space too). but if you are being hit on in front of him, Tamaki would like you to kiss him on the cheek and proudly proclaims that you are taken.

If you turn him down, Tamaki’s expression turns grim and he said he understand. Of course, who would love him when they got so many other better options?

Tamaki would not attempt to court you like Mirio. To him your happiness is his top priority, his personal feelings comes after. If you are happy, Tamaki is content. To him if you love someone, you need to ensure they are happy no matter what (such selfless love is true love). If you eventually come around, he would be over the moon. Tamaki would bury his face in your chest, saying “thank you” over and over again, and hug you like he would never let go.

The shy ravenette may be timid and emotionally vulnerable, but Tamaki is the kindest soul you will ever find. Treat him with lots of affections and he will give you triple in return.

These boys are just so lovable aren’t they? Honestly I won’t say no to either of them...

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha mirio togata #bnha tamaki amajiki #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #mirio togata x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader

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wolfish-trickster · 4 years

Text

A block

Loki x reader

Word count: 1 548

Summary: when a writer's block hits you, your amazing boyfriend is there for you

Warnings: angst, implied smut (teeny tiny bit) and besides that just good old fluff

A/N: kinda messy oneshot, possible typos and grammar mistakes, enjoy <3

You were lying in your bed. Raindrops were softly tapping on the nearby window, lulling you. Light from your opened laptop was illuminating your bedroom, keeping you from falling asleep.

Not the light, rather the opened tab. Word document. Empty. Not a single word. You turned your body towards wall and hid your head under a pillow.

It has been like this for at least two weeks. You used to have so many ideas, so many stories that begged to be let out of your head onto the paper. Or a computer screen.

That was a long time ago. Your head was empty now. No idea. No new adventure. No nothing.

You tried anything. Meditating, reading books and watching movies for inspiration, even writing down some of your dreams right after you woke up only to realise they make absolutely no sense.

You wanted to write again. You wanted to create. But you just couldn't anymore.

'It will pass,' you told yourself. 'It will pass and soon I'll create again. Just like before.'

It didn't pass. Not one bit. You don't even check tumblr anymore. You felt miserable even without seeing all those beautifully crafted stories written by people who actually do something instead of lazying around, like you are doing now. Curled up on your couch, watching a movie you don't even pay attention to.

You felt like the laziest piece of garbage in the world. Like, how can writing be so hard? Just sit down, hit bunch of keys and create senteces. That's it. It's THAT easy. So why does it feel like the most difficult thing to do?

You groaned and hit your face with a throw pillow. 'You're stupid. So stupid. Lazy, stupid, illiterate-'

"Darling? I'm back," Loki's voice called for you, stopping your negative train of thoughts.

You stood up and ran to hug him. You could've knocked him down with the force you collided with him, if it wasn't for his godly strength. You nuzzled his neck and murmured. "I missed you. I'm so glad you're here."

Loki wrapped his arms around you and brought you close. "I missed you as well. How have you been without me?"

You smiled at him. "It doesn't matter. I'm better now, when you're with me," you stood on your toes and softly brushed your lips along his thin soft ones in a loving tender kiss.

You felt his big hand cup your left cheek, turning your face slightly to the side and deepening the kiss. His tongue met yours in a passionate dance only you two knew steps of and danced only when you were all alone. His hand slowly slid down to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. Your fingers got lost in his coal black hair, tugging here and there, making him moan into your mouth.

You loved moments like this. When you reunited after a long separation and it was just the two of you again, two people who simply love eachother. These moments make you forget everything that troubles you. *He* makes you forget everything that troubles you. The pain and guilt over your laziness in your chest disappeares, beeing replaced by a warm love Loki was pouring into you.

After your mouths separated with a wet pop you stood there, forheads touching, eyes closed, smile playing on both of your faces.

Loki's quiet voice broke the silence. "You said you are better now, which means you were unwell before. What happened?"

You shook your head. You wanted that pain away from your chest for a little while longer. "I don't really want to talk about it. Not now."

Loki's hands moved from your waist to your hips, drawing small circles with his thumbs. "Alright. I won't pressure you. You will tell me when you are ready. I can take your mind elsewhere. Much more-," he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the side of your neck, "-pleasurable place. If you allow me."

Of course you did. You didn't want to think about anything other than him tonight.

Loki's heartbeat under your right ear slowly woke you from your dream. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his naked legs tangled with your own under your sheets.

Loki's affections took your mind off your misery, but it soon returned. It's only a matter of time till Loki asks if you'd written anything new. He always asked about your creations. His disappointed face after telling him you haven't written a word for nearly 2 months haunted you in your dreams.

It started to dawn. Loki was a morning person and with every new ray of sunlight a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if it's the first thing he asks? What would he, a skilled poet and story writer, say about you and your inability to write even a small drabble?

"Mhm, mornin' darlin'," he mumbled with extremely raspy voice and the deepest british accent you ever heard and pressed a small kiss to your temple. You snuggled into his chest and mumbled a quiet 'morning'.

"Do you want some breakfast?"

You felt his fingers run up and down your spine. "Right now?"

"Right now."

"But I wanna cuddle with you..." you pouted at him.

Loki chuckled and pecked your pouting lips. "Tell you what my love, I'll go make a quick breakfast, then we can lazy around in our bed the whole day. What do you think? Besides, I think you need it, you are working so hard all the time the word 'lazy' and 'break' probably left your dictionary."

And there it was again. The guilt. You didn't think you worked hard at all. If you did, you'd have finished all your drafts and WIPs while he was away.

You were so grateful he had closed eyes, he didn't see the sadness crawling back on your face. You forced some strength into your voice. "That sounds lovely."

Loki then stood up, put on his favourite sweatpants and padded barefoot into kitchen. You pulled his pillow to your chest and inhaled the smell of him. It calmed you down a little. But the thought of other people being productive and you just lying in your bed being SO LAZY to even make yourself a breakfast didn't leave your head.

'I can at least reread my story ideas, maybe that will start my creativity' You sat up, your eyes fell on your table where your laptop is. Where it usually is. But its place is empty.

'Fuck'

You started to panic. You remembered you left it in the kitchen. OPENED. UNLOCKED. LOKI WILL FIND IT. HE WILL SEE.

In the speed of lightning you put on some clothes and ran to kitchen.

You were late.

Loki was sitting at the table, your laptop opened infront of him. His face was the epitome of poker face. He lifted his head and looked at you standing in the doorway. "Sorry dear, I didn't mean to look through your laptop. I was just curious if you have written anything new and- are you okay?"

You didn't realize tears were running down your cheeks until he brought you back to reality.

"I'm sorry Loki," you wiped your tears.

"Why are you sorry? Writing is your hobby, not your work. You don't have to write all the time," he walked to you and cupped your left cheek, his thumb wiping new tear away.

"I know, but.... Everyone is still writing and I'm not. I mean- writing is so easy and I can't even do that anymore! I'm just lazy a-and out of imagination and m-my grammar is horrib-" Loki stopped your rambling with a single finger against your lips, making you look into his face.

"My love, whoever told you writing is easy is a filthy liar. Nothing about creating a whole world using only your words is easy. And while you can have grammar mistakes and typos here and there, I always get lost in the story I barely notice them at all. You are not lazy for taking a break."

"But this is not a break," you hid your face in his chest, hugging him to you. "I don't have any ideas. I want to write, but I don't know what about," you felt his fingers thread through your hair, caressing you.

"Then start out slowly. Write about your memories. Small parts of your life that make you smile. They are all little stories only you know and can share with the world. And sooner than you notice, inspiration will hit you again and you will write just like before. But for now, my darling, baby steps."

His words helped you, a lot. You still kept your face pressed to his chest, listening to his breath, his heart. His fingers were gently scratching your head in a calming rhythm, his other hand kept your torso pressed to him.

"I love you Loki, thank you for helping me," you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek.

"Always my dear," he kissed your forhead. "Always."

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #fluffy loki #loki fluff #domestic loki

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mendesblurb · 4 years

Text

WHERE IS THE LOVE

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning: fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors and maybe typos

GIF Credits to owner and maker @tannerandthesociety-backup

It felt like it was just yesterday when you were a new transfer student entering a high school in Toronto.

You were forced to relocate to another country because your dad was offered a promotion at work. You were so happy when he conveyed the news even though you were a little sad that you had to move to another country.

First day of school was tough as nobody wanted to get to know the new kid. You were about to give up when a group of guys asked whether they could sit with you during lunch.

Because you were lonely and desperate for friends you said yes. Those guys were Shawn,Brian and Connor. Soon the four of you became inseparable, you see the thing is for other people at the school they were the three weirdos and now you were their newest member.

The three of you were there from the beginning of Shawn's music career. You were there when his vine blew up and you were all so proud when stitches went trending.

Fast forward to now, you are currently on a summer break from university and what better way to spend your break than joining your best friend’s world tour.

Today you were off to the land of the rising sun aka Japan. As soon as you reach your seat, all you want you to do is take a nap. But unfortunately that was just impossible as you were sitting in next to Brian and Connor.

“Guys please let me sleep.” You whinnied

“Nope, Y/N you're so busy with boring University assignments and now we can finally catch up with each other .” Brian said

“Hey Y/N, what’s stopping you two?” Connor asked

“What do you mean?” You said in lazy tone and eyes still closed

“Let me rephrase it for you my dear, do you or do you not still have feelings for Shawn?” Connor said cheekily

You opened your eyes immediately and said, “Connor wtf?” You said while elbowing him

“Owww, but seriously that sounds like a yes to me, right Brian?” Connor said

“Uhm without a doubt.” Brian nod his head

“Look Y/N, all I’m saying is It will be a dream come true if you and Shawn finally decide to take your friendship to the next level.�� Connor said

“What are you trying to say Con, stop giving me riddles.” You whined

“All I’m saying is I know our Shawnie like you too and I have a plan to make him confess his feelings to you.” Connor said

“Whatever brilliant plan you think you have, I don’t want to know because whatever feelings I have towards him will just ruin our friendship.” You replied

“Cmon Y/N, please!” He said while giving you his puppy eyes

“I just don’t want to ruin our friendship, Con.” you said

“I pinky promise, your friendship won’t be ruined.” He said

“Fine, tell me your so-called amazing plan” you replied

“Brian, will you do the honours of explaining the plan to this amazing lady here.” Connor said

“ it would be my pleasure.” He said while giggling

The next few hours flew by and soon you were arriving at theHaneda Airport. Upon arriving the four of you and all the crew rushed to the hotel.

————The next morning———————————-

“Good morning Y/N and Con.” Shawn said in a clearly still sleepy face

Shawn was sleepy but not blind as he saw his 2 best friends standing rather close to each other. Connor’s hand was wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in your neck.

“Oh hey Shawn, didn’t see you there.” You said and immediately you turned your attention back to Connor and he whispered to your ear,”pretend I said something funny and you loved it.” In response you just giggled and Completely ignored Shawn.

Shawn felt annoyed and decided to go and find Brian. After spotting Brian, Shawn decided to approach his table.

Shawn plopped on the seat next to

Brian, resting his head in one of his hands while the other aggressively stabbed the watermelon in his bowl with a fork.

“Dude, don’t blame the watermelon when you have a jetlag!” Brian said

"I am not jetlag" Shawn mumbled through gritted teeth and annoyed expression, lifting his eyes to look at you again, gripping the fork tighter when he saw who you were with.

Brian followed his friend's eyes, and he was crossing his fingers and hoping his plan worked when his eyes landed on you. But for now he just sighed and put his hand on Shawn’s shoulder, to somehow give him support over the image of his two best friends acting all flirty toward one another.

You made your way through the hotel restaurant to find Brian’s table while holding Connor’s hand. This was part of the whole plan, you and Connor had to act all flirty with each other during breakfast.

Hey guys" You playfully greeted, reaching the table, a big smile on your face as you sat across from them.

Before Connor could sit down next yo you, he got a phone call from Andrew saying that he needs to finish editing the video now so he excused himself and went back to his room.

"Hi Y/n" Brian happily replied, lightly nudging Shawn’s elbow when he didn't say anything.

Your smile instantly replaced by a frown, when you noticed Shawn was just focused on his watermelon , avoiding your gaze. By now you wonder, whether the plan actually worked because the last thing you want is to ruin your friendship.

"So how did you guys sleep?" You awkwardly asked, focusing your curious eyes on Brian, waiting for him to tell you what was going on with Shawn.

“Uh ... not much but managed to get 6 hours" Brian said. "So, when did you get all lovey dovey with Connor?" He asked to take the attention away from Shawn, but he mentally he knew that's probably the last thing Shawn wants to hear right now.

"Oh last night Connor confessed his feelings and I said I felt the same" You smiled back again, meanwhile Shawn just choked at his glass of milk.

By now Shawn was coughing and you quickly asked, “ Shawn you okay, here have my water.”

“I’m good Y/N, thanks.” Shawn replied but still avoiding your meet your eye

“He confessed his feelings and now you guys are showing all the PDA" He teased in a mocking tone making you frown for the second time, because it wasn't a sarcastic mocking tone, it was a mean mocking tone.

"I mean he is proud to say that He has feelings for me and now he just wants other people to know about our love too so I will say it’s a sweet gesture he likes and I really enjoy it too" You defended yourself, and Shawn just chuckled.

"I'm pretty sure that's just a rebound,I mean we're talking about Connor, He makes everyone think he has moved on from his ex and Y/n, I'm sure he just wants to have a tour fling to show his ex." Shawn proudly said

"So you're saying I'm just some fling for him?" You asked, ignoring the way your heart ached from Shawn who was thinking so low of your other best friend.

"What I'm saying is the guy still constantly talks about his ex , so my advice is you shouldn't be that excited about your new relationship status because he'll just end up going back to his ex.” He stated while obviously still clouded by jealousy.

"Seriously why can’t you be happy that I end up with Connor, Mendes" You painfully said, before getting up from the table and leaving your bowl of cereal behind and you went back to your room.

Jealousy could trigger many things and you certainly didn’t expect Shawn would say that about Connor.

“Mendes, when was the last time she called you that?” Brian said

Mendes, you only call him that whenever you are upset with him. And now he realised that he too was blinded by the jealousy that he didn’t monitor all the words coming out of his mouth.

“ You know what I still can’t believe, I am still surprised that a guy like you could write so many songs but can never truly say anything to the person who inspired all the songs.” Brian shook his head in disapproval and left Shawn all alone at the hotel restaurant.

…………………….Later at rehearsal…………………..

Part B of the plan was for you and Connor to arrive together at the rehearsal but also you need to arrive a little late to build some type of tension, at least this theory was stated by Brian.

“Okay everyone let’s take 5, before we start.” Shawn said to the band, “Brian where‘s Y/N?” He asked

“I don’t know probably, with Connor.” Brian replied

After rehearsing for 2 songs you finally arrived at the venue with Connor.

Usually during all rehearsals or concerts you will give your full attention to Shawn and after every song you would give him a thumbs up and clap for him.

Today however it was different as he looked across the stage he saw you sitting in Connor’s lap and giggling at his cheesy jokes.

Shawn felt heartbroken when he saw you, his girl, well not exactly, his girl that isn't his but is his ... the girl he loved forever... anyway, when he saw you laugh with someone that wasn't him his heart instantly dropped.

Especially when that someone was Connor Brashier, I mean he knew that Connor was aware of his feelings toward you and he didn’t expect this type of betrayal from Connor of all people.

———- The day of the concert——————————

Today was the big day, usually Shawn felt excited because he was about to meet all his fans but today he couldn’t concentrate, he kept thinking whether things could turn out differently if he confessed his feelings sooner. Would you feel the same? One thing for sure is he would be on cloud nine if you felt the same way he did.

“Shawn, you ready?” Andrew asked

“Yeah, yeah sure.” He said clearly distracted

“Hey.” You said entering the dressing room

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Shawn asked

“Am I not allowed to wish my best friend a goodluck?” You asked.

“Whatever Y/N just go and be with Connor.” He said

“Look Shawn I think there’s something you should know.”

“Look Y/N, I need to focus on rehearsing my lyrics so please don’t distract me.”

“Shawn I’m sorry if I ever was a distraction, I’ll be outside if you need me.” You said trying to hold back your tears

“Y/N wait! I’m sorry I didn’t mean that it’s just you’re a distraction because dammit I am in love with you and I understand that you’re with Connor now and I just think you should know how I feel about you .” He said

“Shawn I’m not with Connor, I mean the whole thing was them trying to prove to me that I wasn’t the only one who felt that way towards you… the truth is I have loved you since high school if I’m being honest.” You confessed

The next few minutes was a blur as Shawn got up from his seat to kiss you…. what you didn’t know was that the dressing room door was open and Connor and Brian were standing there.

Seeing that Brian grabbed the door handle and closed the door.

Standing at the side stage, Connor happily said, “we did it bro.”

“Damn right we did.” Brian sighed happily and they fist bumped each other.

@itsalwaysbeen305

#Shawn #Shawn mendes #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes fandom #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes #Shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes oneshot #Shawn mendes stories

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classysansy · 3 years

Text

Cute self/reader-insert classic Sans shipping ahead! (Beware, there will be a purring skeleton ❤️) (This is of course a oneshot lol. Enjoy!)

The day was going slow. I had the day off work because I had just wanted a day to relax…so, I had decided to watch TV.

Sans was at work; a security guard at the mall. He was amazing at his job, especially that one time he was able to dodge three bullets and then pin the criminal to the ground until police arrived.

I was always super worried about him when he did that. I told him he could get killed. The surface wasn’t as easy to navigate as the underground. He simply gave me that ‘seriously, kid?’ look he has and tousled my hair.

I couldn’t find anything to watch at first, until I flipped through the channels straight to Spongebob. Huh…I had no idea Nickelodeon was still airing that. It seemed too old to be aired…and when I watched it, I realized they definitely had ruined it with the modern traits of kids’ shows nowadays.

I glanced at my phone. Sans would be home in an hour. I sighed to myself and slid further down into the couch cushions. I hated the days I had to wait for the skelebros to get off work. It was usually quite boring and I missed them a lot.

I began to realize I was tired, even though I had done absolutely nothing that day. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and gently shook my head, and before I knew it, I was yawning. ‘No,’ I thought to myself. ‘I have to stay awake for Sans….if not for Sans, then for Spongebob.’

I was able to continue watching the show for a good twenty minutes…however, I could hardly keep my eyes open at that point. I could feel my head start to get heavy, and then…I fell asleep.

I don’t know how long I was out. Ten minutes? Twenty? A half hour or so? I suppose it didn’t matter, but hot damn was that a good nap.

Almost as soon as I remember falling asleep, I heard a deep voice hidden behind the fog of my incoherent and drowsy mind. I dismissed it as part of a dream, as I was still half asleep.

Suddenly, I felt something warm but hard touch my cheek. Needless to say, it woke me up and I opened my eyes to be met with Sans’ own. He was grinning, amused with my sleeping habits.

“Hey,” he mumbled, moving his fingers from my jawline to my hair to brush some strands from my face. “You were sleepin’ good, kiddo. Ya didn’t wake up no matter how many times I said your name.”

“…Sans?” I muttered back. “I, uh…” I trailed off, trying to get my post-sleep thoughts together. And then my consciousness fully came back and I gave him a tired smile. “I must have dozed off.”

“No doubtin’ that.” He chuckled and stood up from the sofa, shrugging. “Wonder what made ya so sleepy. You never nod off watching TV.” He took off his security guard hat and set it on the end table before starting to head upstairs.

“What? Why are you leaving your hat down here? You could just bring it with you.” I scoffed, a brow raised. I should have expected his laziness, but no matter how long we were together, I couldn’t get past it.

“Nah. It told me it wanted to keep ya company,” he replied.

“Oh, did it?” I smirked at him, shaking my head. “You didn’t tell me hats could talk. Is that a monster thing, or..?”

“Well…hats actually can’t speak, so I dunno why you thought they could, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Sans! You were the one to-“ I began, my brows furrowed.

He cut me off, “Gee, ya don’t have to raise your voice about it.”

I huffed at him, but couldn’t help but smile at his silliness. “You changing, then?”

“Unless ya wanna cuddle a sweaty pile of clothes, yeah.”

“Okay. Well, hurry up. I want to ask you about your day.”

“Sure thing, kid.” Sans nodded and continued up the stairs. He soon disappeared behind a door.

I turned off the TV and stretched slightly, appreciating every crack my bones produced. If Sans were downstairs when I did that, he probably would’ve told me to knock it off; he hated hearing joints crack.

After a couple minutes, the comedian made his way back downstairs in his usual apparel: a blue hoodie, basketball shorts, and pink slippers. When I first had met him, I didn’t get his fashion choices, but I learned to accept it with time.

He plopped down next to me on the couch with an exaggerated grunt (he was always looking to get a laugh from me) before glancing at me. “You still tired?” he asked softly.

“…a little, yeah. But I want to talk to you about how today went,” I responded, enthusiastically turning my body towards him so I didn’t have to strain my neck looking sideways at him. “Sleep can wait.”

“Lay down,” he said.

“I told you, I-“

“I mean on me.” He motioned to his legs. “Lay across the sofa and put your head in my lap. I won’t tell you about work if you don’t.” His grin widened, and he was clearly amused with himself.

“I’m fine, I’ll fall asleep if I do that,” I explained, frowning. “Just-“

“Hey, it’s no skin off my back if ya do. Ya obviously need the sleep.” He shrugged. “Lay down ‘n I’ll tell ya all about today. Okay?”

I rolled my eyes and let out a breath. There was no use arguing with him. He usually always won these discussions. He cared about me more than I cared about myself, and it drove me crazy sometimes. Nevertheless, I did as he said and laid across the couch, my head in his lap and my eyes towards the ceiling.

I awkwardly shifted my body, trying to get comfy. All the while, Sans was looking down at me with his usual lazy expression…half lidded eyes and a consistent grin. I finally was okay with my position and nodded at him.

“Okay…so, ya know Jerry?” he started. “Well, he tried to steal some sorta shit from Spencer’s. Just…casually walked out with a hookah, thought I wouldn’t notice. Of course, I did, ‘n I…”

I began to zone out a bit, simply just admiring Sans’ face and voice…everything about him. He knew I spaced out during his usual workday updates, and he was fine with it. We were just happy to be with each other, most days.

I caught words like ‘tackle’, ‘smiled’, and ‘shop’ throughout his ranting, and I reacted accordingly to each of them. With a quick scowl, a smirk, and a nod.

After about twenty minutes, I noticed he wasn’t talking anymore. When had he stopped? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t continue questioning it. I was used to those zoned-out moments that had me wondering things like that. Sometimes I would be so focused on admiring his face that I wouldn’t notice when he was done speaking.

Now he was staring into space…or maybe he was looking at our reflection on the TV screen? Either way, I gave him a little grin, reaching my arm up his chest and gently hooking my fingers along his shoulder. It took a second, but he glanced down at me.

“Finally with us, again?” he teased, softly chuckling. “I’ve been done talking for an hour. I was getting bored waitin’ for ya to notice.”

“It hasn’t been an hour,” I replied, giggling.

“Yeah, guess you’re right…but it was fun to say it was,” he answered, looking me in the eyes.

It then went super silent. Not an awkward silence, but something soothing and comfortable…something that was mostly likely a bonding moment if you let it be. The kind of silence that made everything in the world feel…right.

After a couple moments, I heard a low sound…almost like a gentle rumbling. It was slightly familiar, but I couldn’t tell where I had heard it before.

I frowned, and looked around. There wasn’t really anything in the room that would be making that noise. I then fixed my gaze to Sans, again.

“What’s up?” he said.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That rumbling sound?”

“…huh?”

“You don’t hear it?” I raised a brow, and he shook his head.

I scoffed and sat up slightly, only to notice it was louder near his chest. I subtly tilted my head and put an ear to his rib cage.

“What’re ya doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, his own brow also raised.

“Sans, I think you’re…purring,” I replied, noticing I sounded extremely confused. I was. Extremely confused, that is.

“Wh-“ he mumbled. “I…I am?”

“You didn’t know you could do that?” Now I sounded even more puzzled.

“No,” he quickly told me. He paused. “No, no I didn’t.”

The purring began to fade slightly, and I decided to experiment; I sat up and turned so I could see him straight before leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss on his cheek. He blushed. Just as I thought, the purring became a bit louder.

“Ha! You’re purring because of me!” I snapped, excited at this discovery.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty,” he responded, almost shyly.

“I didn’t know you could purr.”

“…neither did I.”

“Now we know.”

“Yup.”

“It’s adorable,” I cooed.

His smile widened.

“Guess what?” I questioned.

“What?” he replied.

“I didn’t fall asleep while you were talking.” I giggled.

And with that, he pulled me into a kiss…and I knew that he loved me…and I hoped he knew I loved him, too.

(Voila! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot. Not my best writing, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Sans fluff is my favorite fluff 😊 also there might be grammar mistakes and typos I’ll probably fix later, just so you know if you see one.)

-Inspired by @calcium-cat and @little-lex -

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weakzen · 4 years

Note

Left on the detective’s desk, a single red rose and a note written in precise handwriting:

Alex,

What happened to you - you didn’t deserve it. You can be loved, if you let yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day

(yolo experimental style; alex/mason, early established relationship, angst and fluff; no direct mention of abuse, just oblique circling and fatalistic thoughts; rated m for mason; also on AO3~)

Even though I didn't finish reading it, even though I hid it from sight, imprisoned it in darkness, cast it to the depths of the bottom drawer until the end of shift, when it would be possible to smuggle the thing into the break room recycle bin without risking Tina's eyes or interrogation, that stupid fucking note has somehow still managed to reach up through all those heavy files and twist my stomach into knots.

For hours.

Plucking my nerves hard enough to make my hands fucking shake too. Typos in every report, backspace key pulling overtime without pay. Not helped by eyes that won't stop stinging. Armpits that haven't fully dried either, along with a weird chill, shivers that persist despite the sweater and the cranked-up thermostat.

At least the rose is gone. Snuck it into the arrangement on Tina's desk, the one I get her every year.

It looks better surrounded by friends.

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Can still smell it perfuming the air.)

And if I could get rid of my thoughts as easily, I would. Because after half a day of chasing them in circles, I still can't figure out who the fuck sent that goddamn note, who the fuck would write something like that—say shit like that, to me—who could possibly fucking think or know or say anything about that, or that I-I, that I—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuck.

That sickly feeling wrenches again, hard enough to jerk me forward over the desk, face buried in my hands while my breathing shudders into something unsteady and vaguely gasping.

Fuck.

It can't be Tina.

It can't.

It should be, but it can't.

The writing's not loopy enough to be hers, and it's not slanted enough to be Verda's, and the damn thing isn't covered in nearly enough heart stickers to be from Felix. We all should know. Nate's been sighing nonstop for the past week, scraping them off every available surface in the Warehouse—except for the lacy pink one Felix managed to sneak right between Adam's shoulders.

And the glittery red one I pressed covertly to Mason's ass.

(Maybe not so covertly. Found a few hearts stuck to my underwear later when I slipped outta my jeans, and the secrets of how the fuck he pulled that off are still locked behind his smirk.)

A smile tries to pull at my lips, but the tightness in my gut warps it crooked.

Another shuddery breath.

It can't be from Adam either. If he had something to say to me, he'd just say it, preferably after he finished laying me out on the mats, all sweaty and sucking down air from another session of his gentle ass-kicking. Nate, however, would write a note to me. Has written a note to me. Has written many notes to me and still not made a dent in that stack of expensive stationary, and although the card stock was silk cream, the pigment obsidian night, and the calligraphy swooping in almost a dead ringer, I know it can't be from Nate because he would never leave a rose with his words, not the ones meant for me.

But there isn't anyone else.

There's Mason

And it can't be from him.

It's not his handwriting, to start. I think. I'm pretty sure. I've never actually seen his writing, but I can't imagine it would be anything resembling neat or careful. It's gotta be complete chicken scratch. All cramped and illegible. He's left handed too, barely patient enough to sit through a stoplight, much less give ink the time to dry, so there'd be definitely be smears, and there weren't any smears. At all. Can't be him.

Not to mention he'd never do anything like this.

Don't know why he keeps coming to mind anyway. Just because we're…

Together

—for now.

Doesn't mean he'd ever say anything like that—

He already has

(He did. He said I deserved better and I believe him, but I don't, I can't.)

—only because he'd say differently if he knew.

If he really knew.

He'd say different and I'm not gonna fucking tell him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway, it doesn't. Shine's gonna wear off soon enough. Novelty, satisfied. Boredom, returning. And at least the conversation won't be awkward, just… blunt. To the point. A first for us both, in topic, if not style.

I've never been dumped before, at least not in a romantic sense.

Another breath. Another shuddery breath.

Wonder how it's gonna feel.

(It's gonna suck.)

No fucking shit.

If it can't last, why agree to it at all?

I rub hard at my eyes, grinding palms into sockets.

If it can't last, why not tell him anyway?

Because I already fucking know! Don't need to hear it from him, don't wanna hear it from—

If it can't last, why does it matter what he thinks?

“…Stupid fucking note.”

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Someone took the time, wrote it, left it in here. Someone cares.)

Someone's playing a sick fucking joke, more like.

What if it's genuine?

I scoff ragged, squeezing fingers around the back of my neck.

(Tina cares. So does Verda. The whole team, so many others, I know, and I believe them all but I don't. I can't.)

What if you didn't deserve it?

I did. I stayed and I did. My fault. Fucking stupid, like he always said.

(All Mason ever speaks is care. In a thousand different ways of touch, in silence, in lingering looks, he cares.)

What if you can be loved?

What if you can?

A brittle laugh wheezes past my lips and shoots toward something hysterical, boosted by acid burn and cloying petals and that churning, churning tightness. My shoulders hunch high around my ears while the sound pitches even higher, lungs immolated and screaming along, nails digging, cutting crescents as I shake and curl tighter, smaller, compacting into stiffness hard enough to rival diamonds, every muscle verging on a cramp and my throat is stinging and my eyes are on fire, hot, wet, and the door is closed, the blinds shut, and maybe I could just— this time— if I stayed quiet, I could—

I could—

But I don't.

I swallow once, twice, suck down, blink it away, then snap upright and get back to work. There's too much shit, not enough time.

Never enough time, not for that.

For you

(Remember to eat lunch.)

I don't.

I don't really remember talking to anyone either. Or finishing paperwork. Answering email. Clearing the inbox backlog, digital and otherwise, but the stack depletes, the numbers go down, Tina gives me shit from the doorway, and soon the peripheral lights tick off overhead in the foyer, a mop bucket rattles its rounds, darkness crept into my office at some point for a visit and now it's here to stay, just its quiet company along with the monitor blasting eye strain, clacking keys, tight shoulders, a headache, and then—

A familiar ass plops down on my desk and scares the shit out of me.

I jerk back in the chair, wheels rolling, hand over heart to keep it from pounding free and Mason looms above it all, bathed in harsh blues, deep shadows, a deeper frown, and eyes that refuse to obey the rules of any ambient illumination.

Right now? They're crinkled soft, even as they scrutinize.

He looks… worried.

When did he even open my door?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“…Yeah,” I mutter. A lie, an obvious one, but I fight the urge to glance away and dare him to call me out anyway. “You need something, sunshine?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You're late.”

“For what?”

We didn't make plans.

“Getting home.”

Fuck.

I sigh, slumping in the seat, and now I'm looking away, now I'm backing down, running a hand through my hair, mussing and tangling, just like he always does when he's uncertain.

And when the hell did I start doing that?

“Yeah, I'm still behind on shit from my vacation. I was gonna stay late tonight, try and catch up…” I explain, because Tina and I also didn't make plans this year.

(Because she's been marinating in smugness ever since I sighed and told her about the relationship. Because she dropped that shit-eating smirk earlier—that I remember, at least—dripping suggestion all over my office as she waggled her brows and winked and made obnoxious kissy faces until I shoved her out the door, but not before she told me to 'have lots of fun tonight, Alexandra.')

Sure.

“Sorry I didn't text. I… forgot.”

That tightness in my stomach does another loop, and I huff a quiet breath.

Stupid fucking note.

Mason folds his arms. “…The fuck is going on with you?”

Concern blunts the teeth of his words, not that there's any real bite. There never is, not with him, but I tense up anyway, expecting it, expecting to be ripped open.

Blood and pain.

I'd tense up no matter how he asked.

It's okay

(He's not Bobby.)

“Nothing,” I reply, folding my arms, eyes down, “just…”

It's okay

(He's not looking to hurt.)

Probably will anyway, but fuck it. I already know his answer.

Let's just get it over with.

“You didn't leave me a valentine earlier, did you?” My gaze snaps to his. “On my desk?”

Mason scoffs. “Why the hell would I do that?”

This time, it stabs instead of twists, higher up, somewhere in my chest. Something sharp instead of dull.

Disappointment? …Relief? I'm not sure.

Just that it stings.

And it's nighttime, so maybe he feels it too, and maybe that's why he unfolds his arms and shifts toward me, boot heel dangling by the bottom drawer while his voice drops to a softness that matches his accent. “What it say?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, even quieter than him. “Just someone fucking with me. It doesn't matter.”

It does

(Shouldn't lie, not to him. Don't need to. Don't want to, don't like it.)

Mason doesn't like it either, but he doesn't push it. Neither do I.

We look away from each other.

The office swelters around us, too stuffy, too small. Too silent and uncomfortable now to stay. I roll forward to save my work, then turn the computer off and Mason's already waiting for me by the door, a dark silhouette framed by distant fluorescent, my coat and bag hanging off his arms. He pulls me in while I put it all on, yanking me by lapels before abandoning them for the sweater on my lower back, the loose hair at my nape. His lips brush against mine in slow movements, soft nibbling, and he's whispering something to me with it all, with the strokes of his fingers and the circle of our chins, but I can't quite hear.

So ask

(He'll answer—and he won't lie.)

I swallow, then I do.

“…What kind of kiss was that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs beneath my hands, breath tickling my face. “I want you to feel better.”

“Oh.”

A shadow flits behind his eyes.

“…And if he's still bothering you, I'm gonna break his fucking jaw again.”

I chuckle softly. “Pretty sure it wasn't him this time.”

“Good.” Mason nibbles another kiss, then smirks. “Might still do it anyway.”

That gets a laugh from both of us, one that sprawls into a pause, grey eyes locked to mine while our grins fade out and our breath catches on everything unspoken and nameless rushing in to take the space.

Honesty. It's what I try to speak. Trailing up from the emotional ooze, raw and sticky.

I hope he can fucking see it, hear it cry, but I wipe it off and whisper the words into shape anyway, cheeks flaming, just to be sure—

“I'm sorry, I just… I don't wanna talk about it now.”

—and he answers me with a brush of his mouth, with his tongue parting my lips, with the way he teases into me before licking deeper, the way he jerks our hips together then shoves, a knee between my thighs, my back into a wall, a door frame, a sharp corner, a low groan rumbling up his chest directly into mine and I hear it all this time, in his breathy panting at the edge of our kiss, the firmness in his fingers angling my face to his, the solid heat of his cock pressed hard against me, grinding slow while I cling tight and moan, I hear it all, but he sucks my lip in with a sharp inhale, rolls me around his mouth before releasing with a drag of teeth, and he murmurs it aloud anyway, just to be sure—

“I know, sweetheart. It's fine.”

—then he nips down hard, and it's hard not to smile, hard not to laugh, harder still not to nip that asshole right back, so I don't.

Hold back, that is.

Our lips are swollen and sore by the time the station door swings shut behind us.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc m #twc mason #mason x detective #mason #the detective #zfic #alex/mason #alexandra black

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khadij-al-kubra · 4 years

Text

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

<=PREV

NEXT=>

Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon*

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that.

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy; he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses. “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I’m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn’t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

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goatsandgangsters · 4 years

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do you have any writing tips pls 🥺🥺

Ohhh big question! I’m flattered that you want my writing thoughts, anon!

So. Are we talking about tips on getting through writer’s block/sitting down and actually writing? The mechanics of writing itself, the individual sentences and word choices? Developing a plot? Characters or dialogue? Drafting and revising? If there’s a specific part of the process that’s angsting you, let me know, I’m happy to say more on that. For now I’ll try and touch on as much as broadly as I can.

Writing is a process, a craft, a practice. A joy and a trial. The act of hitting some keys with your fingers but also making something out of nothing. Which is to say—it comes with practice, it can be frustrating, it can be rewarding, and however you’re feeling about writing, you’re not the only one.

Inspiration/actually sitting down to write:

I find that writing is like exercise. Yes, in the sense that it takes practice to build up those muscles, but MORE IMPORTANTLY writing, like exercise, makes me groan and go “but that’s haaaaard I don’t wanna doooooo it, what if I just siiiit here insteaaaad.” And then I grudgingly get started. And I start to get into the rhythm. And then “oh goddammit. This DOES feel good.” I’ve still never experienced a runner’s high, but I have experienced “no I don’t wanna write. well I guess I’ll write. oh hey I’m writing. oH HEY!! I’M WRITING!!!” Sometimes you just need to push yourself through to start.

That said, sometimes you don’t need to push yourself to start. Sometimes it’s better to let something sit. It’s okay to pivot to another project if you’ve stalled out on one. I saw a post once that called this “crop rotation” and I think that’s true. Sometimes the challenge is getting started, but even when you can’t get started, the time away can be valuable, because it allows you to return with fresh ideas and fresh ideas.

I love using Fighter’s Block for when I can’t get started. It curbs my perfectionist tendency to write the same first sentence over and over again by forcing me to write consistently and quickly without refreshing tumblr between every sentence. Once I’ve got a paragraph, I’ve got enough of a rhythm going to keep writing on my own. You can use it for longer stretches of time, but I find a couple rounds of 200 word count goals is enough to get me through the inertia of getting started.

Read a lot:

Reading makes you a better writer. You will absorb aspects of the craft in the process—sentence structure, rhythm, plot beats.

Then think about what you read. Think about what works. Think about what doesn’t. Notice sentences that you love—not by meaning but by sound. Think about how the story is told, how the plot elements come together, how the themes operate, how the narrative is structured. Did the flashbacks works or were they superfluous? Did you love the metaphors and descriptive language, or did it feel vague and unhelpful? What parts grabbed you, what parts didn’t?

Being able to identify what does and doesn’t work in someone else’s writing will help you apply it to your own. It will also help you craft your own voice and style.

Use writing tips as a challenge, not a rule:

We’ve all seen those “writing rules” like don’t use adverbs, don’t say feels or thinks, don’t say said. Never listen to writing “rules”; instead, see them as a writing “challenge.” You don’t need to jettison every single adverb or permanently strike certain words from your writing. Sometimes, an adverb is the best word. And sometimes it isn’t.

These tips are useful, but not as hard-and-fast rules that must be obeyed every time under every circumstance. Instead, use them as tools to challenge you to think about your writing in new ways, to see if there’s a better way to say something (and maybe there is and maybe there isn’t), and to bring a freshness to the process.

I actually do really like to challenge myself to minimize feels and thinks. “He feels sick to his stomach” will pretty much always be less powerful than “His stomach lurches.” But sometimes feels and thinks work better, either because I need quick exposition or because it specifically emphasizes a thought or a feeling as perception. Again, it’s not about rules. It’s about challenging your habits to breathe new life into your writing.

Revising tools:

if you’re a tactile person and you own a printer (which I am but I don’t), I like to print out a draft and sit on the floor with a pen and a highlighter and highlight anything that sounds clunky or that doesn’t quite fit. Then I massage those specific sentences, looking for other ways to say them, and narrow in on those parts rather than trying to edit everything overall.

The hemingway app method (as long as you know you’re allowed to disagree with it) can be good to catch certain things. Sometimes I use it and think “yeah that sentences IS too long and awkward, I should rephrase it” and sometimes I think “nah, that sentence is long but it’s controlled and it works.” Sometimes it’s useful in pointing out that I used the word just way too many times; sometimes I’ll keep my adverbs thanks.

Retyping the entire thing in another word document is another revising trick. So is reading the entire think out loud to yourself (your actual ear will catch awkward rhythms or typos that your inner voice glossed over).

(Note: I don’t do all of these all the time. I revise with whichever method I happen to be feeling at the moment)

Character interactions:

Overly expository character interactions are probably my #1 writing pet peeve. People don’t say what they mean. They don’t calmly and carefully and eloquently articulate exactly what they feel. If your characters are conversing in well-practiced monologues where they’re able to objectively analyze and express their exact feelings, it’s not believable. It’s also not fun for the reader, because Explanations of Emotions are being used as a stand-in for actual emotions.

Example: You don’t have a breakdown because you’re stressed about losing your job and you had a fight with your sister and you’re also the protagonist who has to save the entire world. You have a breakdown because you can’t find your fucking pen. It was here a moment ago, you know it was, you put it THERE because that’s where you PUT things but now it’s gone and the pen is gone and you can’t even find the fucking pen so how are you going to save the world and everything is going to SHIT because you can’t FIND your goddamn pEN.

Your character is probably not even an expert on their own feelings, let alone able to objectively explain them to someone else. There are things we can’t make ourselves say out loud. We deflect. We put all the big feelings into small things. We squeeze someone’s hand and say come on, let’s make dinner because you can’t say everything is going to be okay I promise you and I love you so much and one day you’ll see that it’ll all work out.

What are your characters saying with their body? What are they saying with what’s left unsaid? And when are they saying something Else that’s really about Them? (“You did what you had to do,” character A assures character B, because character A’s own guilt weighs on them. They’ll never say this out loud. They don’t even need to specifically think “just like my own guilt, which weighs on me.” We know it by what they say, about other people and about other things, because these are the times when you’re really talking about yourself)

Also, the size of the emotion displayed does not translate into the size of the emotional impact on the reader. A big sweeping declaration of I love you shouldn’t be used as a stand-in for real chemistry or a moment of love that is specific to those characters. An absolute sobbing breakdown isn’t inherently more tragic for its size. You don’t need torture porn to evoke angst. Emotions are a lot more subtle than that. Using a caricature of emotion in the extreme often cheapens the emotion for the reader, rather than enhancing it.

Other assorted tips:

Write notes! Sit up at 3 AM and write down a snippet of dialogue in a note on your phone! Jot down the plot idea for later! Note the phrase you heard someone say that sounds like it would be a good title.

If you can’t figure out how to end your story or your section or your chapter, it might be because it’s already over and the story has finished telling itself. If the beginning doesn’t feel right, if it feels slow and clunky, it might be because your starting place is too early. If the character interaction feels wrong or the scene isn’t going right or you can’t make that line of dialogue work, the problem is probably about 5 or 10 lines up where you took a wrong turn.

An em dash—like the one I used here—separates out a part of the sentence that couldn’t be a sentence on its own. Semicolons join two independent sentences together; this is an example.

The dialogue tag is part of the sentence. Correct: “I love dogs,” he said. or “I love dogs.” Incorrect: “I love dogs.” he said. or “I love dogs,” He said.

That’s everything that comes to mind immediately. If there’s another part of the process that you want me to focus on, let me know! I’m happy to go more in-depth on specifics!

#writing #me??? you want tips from MMmee???#a n o n 💖#writeblr #anon tag

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versdan · 4 years

Text

Not All That (College!Carol Danvers x Reader)

Summary: Carol puts on a big persona being one of the most infamous jocks in the school. But what happens when someone like you can see right through it?

A/N: This is for @stuckonjbbarnes ‘ writing challenge! I’m so sorry this is hella late oh my- but! congrats again babes! I’m a sucker for college!Carol omf- Also, I took some lines out from the lyrics so some may be missing if you know the song. Also, quick thank you to my tumblr gf/mob gf @envoyofyagami for proof reading this. Love you babe 💞 I hope you guys enjoy & sorry for any typos! Requests are open!

Song: Cooler Than Me - Mike Posner

Pairings: Carol Danvers x F!Reader

AU: Frat/F-boy/College ish

lyrics are italicized & bolded!

please don’t repost/plagerize my work! x

———

If I could write you a song to make you fall in love

I would already have you up under my arm

You don’t know what your infatuation was with her. Maybe it was her confidence or the way that she just went about her life not caring but it pulled you in hard. Carol was one of the most talked about individuals on campus, having been known for her attitude towards people and just known as the life of the party. So when she began to develop a bit of a soft spot for you, it almost seemed to change her demeanor around her friends.

You both had been roommates since the beginning of your second year in college so you both had a small connection already which only allowed your feelings to blossom for the girl.

I used up all my tricks, I hope that you like this

But, you probably won't, you think you're cooler than me

You had tried to push through Carols’ tough girl act but you couldn’t seem to budge through and it made you a bit sad. You had wanted to get to know her and yet it almost seemed as if she had begun to shut you out once she began to open up slightly. You never wanted to push Carol to her breaking point but it felt as if you did a bit.

Carol on the other hand was scared. She was scared to fall for someone again for her just to end up broken hearted like in her previous relationship. When she felt herself growing feelings towards you, she immediately separated herself from the friendship out of a good decision for herself, or so she thought it was.

When you saw that she was spending less time in your dorm together and eventually moved out to live in the frat house along with the other mates, you felt worse for even trying to pester her with questions in the first place. You tried to not think about her and hang out with your new roommate but no one can replace Carol in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about her and it hurt to see her around campus as you both acted like strangers.

And you never say hey, or remember my name

And it's probably 'cause you think you're cooler than me

In class, it was odd sitting next to each other. Not speaking a word when you both were known for being the loudest pair in class during lectures that you’d even get in trouble more than once from the professor and other classmates. Carol eventually stopped showing up or even moved her seat to another row, far from you and that’s when you knew things had definitely changed. You had no choice but to accept this big change even if you didn’t like it.

You sat in your room, studying for your bio exam you had in two days so light cramming was your go to at the moment so you wouldn’t cram every chapter the day of. Your roommate came rushing into the room, throwing the book bag onto her bed before throwing herself on top of yours, laying all over your papers and notes. You sat there staring at her before laughing. “You alright?”

She sighed, rolling over onto her back, extending her arms out. “Classes are so boring. I feel like I am mentally drained that even answering the simple question of what is two plus two makes me blank” she said, rubbing her eyes with her fingers as you shook your head, continuing to write down notes.

“And watching you write notes, isn’t helping! Come on, (Y/N). Let’s go to the frat party tonight, everyone in the dorm is talking about it” She said, lowering your notebook from your hands as you sighed.

“I have to study for this exam, you know this” you told her, looking at her as she gave you puppy eyes. Sighing, you closed your notebook, knowing you couldn't resist the puppy eyes. “Fine. But don’t think this will happen again” you told her as she screamed getting up and running over to the shared closet for an outfit to wear.

You dreaded wanting to go to this party. You knew it was gonna be at the frat house Carol hangs out the most at and you didn’t want to run into her after everything that has happened. But another part of you wanted to show up to the party and forget about everything. To just let loose and if Carol sees, then Carol sees.

“Oh, what the hell” you said to yourself, getting up to go to your dresser trying to find something to wear as well.

But you don't know the way that you look

When your steps make that much noise

You both arrived at the party and the front lawn was already trashed with loads of people outside, making out or talking to one another. Walking through the front door, the music immediately made your head pound. Your roommate weaved her way easily through the crowd, leaving you alone. Typical.

Making your way to the kitchen, you grabbed an empty cup and filled it with the nearest drink you could grab and took a sip. It burned a bit but it was bearable. Looking around the kitchen and into the living room, you had underestimated how many more people there were tonight compared to every other party. Letting out a breath you tried to look for your roommate so you wouldn’t be alone at this party.

When looking around the room, you had locked eyes with Carol. She stood near the doorway, seeming to have to just walked in as she stopped greeting people midway. Your breathing hitched as a part of you almost seemed to flutter after not seeing her for so long. Turning around quickly and downing your drink, you threw your cup away. A random guy who had seen you down the drink, looked at you in awe. “Beat it” you spoke out softly before walking out the kitchen.

Walking past people dancing and away from the eye site of Carol, you made your way to the other side of the house where it was less packed with people and took a seat on the couch. You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding in. It was predictable that you were going to see her tonight no matter if you were going to hide in the farthest corner of the house or not, but you didn’t think a part of you would want to see her. Would want to talk to her tonight and just be close to her.

“You shouldn’t think too hard, ya know. It’s not good for you” you heard a voice say which pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking up, Carol stood smirking down at you while holding a drink. She took a seat next to you as you turned a bit away from her.

“Oh, come on. We’re old friends, don’t act like a stranger now” she said, taking a drink from her cup, looking away as you looked towards her and scoffing. She didn’t just call you a stranger

“You’re really one to talk and call me a stranger” you said, rolling your eyes as she turned to look at you giving a small smile.

“Oh, look! she speaks” Carol teased as you scoffed again, getting up to walk away before Carol reached out for your wrist and grabbing it.

“I’m only teasing. Come on, you know me (Y/N).” she told you as you turned to look at her, feeling anger bubble up inside you.

Shh, I got you all figured out

You need everyone's eyes just to feel seen

“Do I know you? because the Carol I know wouldn’t just leave me with no explanation” you told her as you saw her shoulders drop a bit as she let go of your wrist. A part of you didn’t want her to let go of you. You missed her touch already and it was only there for a good 30 seconds.

“I know, I just-” she started but you interrupted her.

“You just what? Found better people to hang out with? Shut me out completely even if we had made a pact? I was there for you and you knew that yet you still shut me out” you told her, finally airing it out to her but you couldn’t tell if it hurt to say that or felt good. You didn’t want to cry at a stupid frat party but here you were, beginning to tear up infront of your long-time crush.

Carol looked at you and placed a hand onto your cheek to which you leaned into her touch, closing your eyes for a second before looking at her.

Behind your makeup nobody knows who you even are

Who do you think that you are

“I miss you Carol. The real you, not this version of yourself that I lost you to” you said softly and it broke Carol’s heart. She knew she shouldn’t have pushed you away for any reason but she was scared.

“I’m sorry. I was scared of what really was happening. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I was falling for you because I was scared that once I had you, I would lose you. I never wanted to lose you and that is exactly what happened” Carol said, feeling a weight off her shoulders finally telling you how she felt. You shook your head at her, grabbing her hand that was on your face and taking it into both your hands.

“I’m still here for you. I’m always going to be here and you know that” You told her, pulling her in for a hug to which she returned. Everything felt okay in that moment, like all had returned to normal and never changed. You closed your eyes and savored the moment before Carol pulled back, placing her hands on either side of your face before leaning in and pressing her lips against yours. You kissed her back, placing your arms on her shoulders. You smiled into the kiss before pulling away and hearing a few cheers around you both. Looking over you saw Tony and Steve cheering you both on as you let out a small chuckle.

“Let me re-introduce myself” Carol said, looking back at you, pulling away slowly and outstretching her hand. “My name is Carol and I think you are absolutely stunning” she said with a smile. You let out a chuckle, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you, Carol. I’m (Y/N) and you’re not so bad yourself” you said, smiling at her as she raised your hand making you turn so your back was against her. She placed a kiss on your neck before wrapping her arms around your waist as you both swayed to the music. Maybe you both lost each other for a reason in order to find yourselves in the end.

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