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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

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Crave (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, NON-CON, vampire!Peter, bloodplay, mentions of animal cruelty, mentions of murder, mentions of X-Men characters

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

divider provided by @/k1tty4rk

summary: when Peter goes missing while on a mission, he’s not exactly himself when he returns. His appetite is a little different now, and you soon find out that he’s hungry for more than just blood

You should’ve known that something was wrong when your phone went off at nearly 3 in the morning. No one ever called you that late, not even Peter. Your best friend was more likely to slip through your window if he needed something. Groggy with fatigue, it took you a moment to realize that you had not plugged your phone up before going to sleep like you thought, and that it was instead in your sheets somewhere.

“Hello?” you finally grumbled, eyes still closed as you wondered just who in the world was calling you.

“Kid, it’s Tony. Is Peter with you?”

You were suddenly wide awake, blinking your eyes open as you forced yourself to sit up.

“No…? I thought… Isn’t he on a mission?”

Worry began to bleed into your heart, and it only increased at Tony’s words.

“He was, yeah.”

You threw the covers off of you, hurriedly sliding out of bed as you searched for some shoes.

“What do you mean ‘was’?”

The older man sighed, and you noted that his voice shook a little bit. You froze, heart dropping into your stomach as the severity of whatever was going on registered. Tony Stark was worried.

“He was supposed to check in 2 days ago. He was supposed to be back today. Neither of those things have happened.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

Your pitch had risen, and you didn’t bother to mask your fear.

“I don’t have much time to explain. Capsicle and Robocop are coming with me to see if we can find him. We’re leaving shortly, but my coordinates show that he’s still in Bulgaria. That’s where we sent him. We just haven’t heard a word from him and can’t seem to get in touch with him.”

You could hear things going on in the background, and you figured that they were only moments away from leaving. Your stomach churned, and you felt like you might be sick. If Tony Stark with all of his gadgets and resources couldn’t get ahold of Peter, then something was really wrong.

“Look, I have to go. If he shows up there, let us know immediately.”

He hung up before you had the chance to tell him that you were coming straight to the compound. You stared at your phone for a bit, brows drawn together as you processed this news. You hadn’t thought anything of it when you hadn’t heard from Peter in a few days. He wasn’t a kid anymore, had graduated college alongside you only last year, so his presence on the team was needed a lot more. His missions were less juvenile, so losing touch for a week at a time was nothing new.

As you threw on a coat to combat the biting New York air, you tried not to dwell on the worst. It couldn’t be helped though, and as soon as you stepped into your apartment hallway, shoulder grazing your door, tears filled your eyes. If Tony could see where Peter currently was...and he wasn’t able to get in touch with him...then that meant he was dead right? You shook your head, locking your door and tightening your fingers around your purse. There could be so many reasons for that. It didn’t mean he was dead.

The entire drive to upstate New York was a quiet one. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to fill the car with mind-numbing music to distract you. Your fingers were tight on the wheel, legs so tense that when you finally arrived at the compound, they actually hurt when you stepped out of the car. You leaned your back against the vehicle, the warmth seeping through your coat, and you released an unsteady breath.

You had known Peter since high school, easily finding a place with him and Ned, and eventually, MJ too. When Ned and MJ took their college education elsewhere, you had remained. You told yourself it was to save money, a partial truth, but you never wanted to admit that it was also to stay by Peter’s side. You couldn’t imagine being away from him. It was pathetic really, but Peter was more than some guy you loved. He was your best friend.

“I had a feeling you’d show up here.”

The familiar voice reached your ears, and you looked up at Wanda just as she floated down next to you. Her auburn hair was ruffled with a gentle breeze, her eyes sympathetic as she reached out to pull you into her side.

“They will find him,” she assured you.

You could hear Sam on the phone as soon as she guided you inside of the compound, and he sent you a tense smile and wave, which you returned. You could faintly hear other voices as well, and you figured that everyone who stayed back was wrapped up in doing whatever they could to get in contact with Peter. You felt helpless.

“What can I do?” you asked Wanda, already knowing the answer.

“Just be here,” she told you, making you sigh.

“Wanda…”

You gave her a reproachful look, and she smiled at you.

“We know you’re worried just like the rest of us, probably even more than the rest of us,” you swallowed at her knowing look. “...but everything will be okay. The last thing we need is you putting yourself in harm’s way or bursting a blood vessel.”

You nodded, heeding her words. You made your way to your room with a heavy heart. You were far from being a member of the team, you could barely throw a proper punch, but seeing as you came over so often with Peter, sometimes in the dead of night, Tony decided to have you a room put in. Right next to Peter’s.

One of his old college sweatshirts was on your desk, still there from the last time you borrowed it, and without thinking, you got undressed and put it on. It still smelled like him, and with the scent of your best friend filling your nose, you laid down and sought out sleep.

The next day brought bad news. They had found Peter’s suit, but no Peter. It explained his stationary location and their lack of success with getting in touch with him. You had just stepped into the door of the room when Tony told them, his virtual face wracked with fear and worry, something you weren’t used to seeing.

You could tell that you weren’t meant to hear the news just yet by the way Nat’s eyes widened when she finally noticed you. The rest of the team turned as she hurriedly rose, making her way to you just as your face crumbled.

“Y/N-.”

“Wh-what does that mean? What does he mean?”

Tony’s voice faded as she pulled you from the room, and you almost tripped over your feet as your legs shook.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s going to be okay,” she said, attempting to calm you.

“What does he mean by that? Why doesn’t he have his suit- where is he?”

You were in your room now, and she shushed you as she guided you to your bed. You sat down, staring at your feet as your brain whirled. You hadn’t realized how fast your heart was beating, and your whole body shook as you fought to process this news.

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled, more to yourself than the spy before you.

She came into your vision as she knelt before you, her hands taking yours.

“Me neither,” she mumbled.

You fingered Peter’s shirt. You were still wearing it, just with some jeans, and Nat observed the movement.

“How long?” she quietly asked.

She didn’t need to elaborate. You knew what she was asking.

“Since…” you shrugged, releasing a heavy breath. “...practically since forever.”

“Does he know?”

You sadly shook your head. She pursed her lips, red hair framing her face as she studied you.

“We’re going to find him, and when we do, you can tell him. Okay?”

You nodded.

“Okay,” you quietly replied.

Nat didn’t stay for long, and you guessed that she needed to get back to the team to plan the best course of action. You barely left your room for the rest of the day, not having much of an appetite nor energy for anything. It was late in the evening when you found yourself making your way to Peter’s room. You lost count of how many times you slept in here, but Peter was usually with you, and if not, he at least showed up at some point. You liked waking up to the sound of his soft snores.

It felt weird with him gone, even weirder when you accounted for the fact that you didn’t know when he’d be back. If he’d be back. Your face almost crumbled at the thought, and you laid down, grabbing one of his pillows and hugging it to your chest, unable to stop the tears that spilled over, no matter how much you tried.

You slept in his room for days, and for days there was still no sign of him. The team was beyond worried now. You knew it, no matter how much they tried to portray otherwise. They were getting restless and scared. You couldn’t exactly say that you were any different though.

Sleep was hard to find, and even when you did, you found yourself tossing and turning throughout the night. Every time you woke up, you kept hoping that he’d be there, that you’d hear his voice. You were met with a dark empty room each time though, and it always broke your heart. After Peter had been missing for 8 days, Wanda finally came to you.

“I think you should go home,” she told you.

You were sitting cross legged on Peter’s bed, and she sat before you, hands in her lap with her feet on the floor. You frowned at her, wondering if you had overstayed your welcome, but she continued.

“It’s not that we don’t want you here, because you know we love having you around, but… You do not look good, Y/N.”

You squirmed under her concerned stare, clearing your throat.

“I’m fine,” you quietly argued.

“You’re not, and that’s okay. You just...you look exhausted and worried, and you’ve lost weight. A considerable amount in such a short time. What would Peter think if he came back right now and saw that you weren’t properly taking care of yourself?” she wondered.

Guilt flooded you, and you reluctantly nodded.

“I know that being here brings you some comfort, but I don’t think it’s worth the toll it’s taking on you.”

Your shoulders sagged, and you reluctantly admitted that she was right. You wanted to be near Peter in any way you could, but constantly waiting and listening out for any news was stressing you out.

“Go home. Sleep in your own bed. Get some rest. You can always come back,” she said.

“Okay.”

So, you did. You took a shower as soon as you made it back to your apartment, finding another one of Peter’s shirts he’d left. You forced yourself to at least eat something of substance, and when you had all you could take, you made a cup of tea. You had tried to watch tv, but funnily enough, the news was reporting on a crime that Spider-Man’s had helped solve months ago. Unable to stomach it, you turned the tv off and opted for bed.

Strangely enough, you were able to sleep better in your own bed. It happened quickly, and you didn’t toss or turn much. The first time you floated back to consciousness, it must have been around 3 in the morning. It was the longest you’d slept in days, and you knew that you’d be drifting back soon. However, you faintly noted that goosebumps had erupted over your skin, like you were cold.

Considering it was cold outside, you kept your heater blasting.

You blinked, staring at your window. It was closed, but the curtains were parted, and you could see that it was snowing outside. For the first time in days, a small smile tugged at your lips, and with a sigh, you rolled over. A dark figure was standing beside your bed, and the scream that you let out echoed through the apartment, filled with terror.

You fought back against them as they reached for you, struggling to get away and move further back on the bed. Their hands were cool, like they’d been outside for a while with no gloves. You were sitting up, pushing against them when they reached over and flicked on your lamp. When light flooded the room, your eyes widened.

Peter stood before you, dressed casually in dark clothes and looking completely unharmed. You sharply inhaled, all of your breath leaving you as your lips parted, eyes welling with tears. You blinked a few times, feeling like you might have been dreaming, but Peter remained. You reached out to him with shaking hands, and your vision had started to blur.

“Hey, breathe. Breathe, Y/N,” he softly ordered, brows furrowed.

You did as he said, and your chest burned as you moved closer. You slid off of the bed, moving to stand up, but your legs were unsteady. Peter caught you just as you fell into his arms, wrapping your own around him. You buried your face into his chest, your tears wetting his shirt, and he enveloped you in his arms as he shushed you.

You were shaking so much, and you just couldn’t stop. You couldn’t believe that he was here, and he looked perfectly fine. You sobbed into his chest, and you felt him tighten his arms around you. You clung to him, maneuvering to bury your face into the crook of his neck, feeling guilty about his shirt. You could feel him do the same, his nose brushing against your skin, and he took a long inhale, breathing you in.

“You’re okay,” you blubbered.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m okay,” he whispered.

You pulled away from him, roaming your eyes over him before meeting his own eyes.

“Where...where have you been? Everyone is looking for you,” you softly told him.

“I know,” he replied, looking sheepish.

“We have to call Tony,” you said, reaching for your phone.

Peter stopped you before you could, his hand tight on your wrist, and you found yourself wincing at his harsh grip. You looked at him with a frown, heart skipping a beat at his sudden dark countenance. He swallowed, and your eyes were briefly drawn to the subtle movement in his throat before he eventually let you go.

“I can’t...I can’t go back,” he told you, shaking his head.

Your eyes widened at him, and confusion filled you. What?

“What are...what are you talking about? Everyone is worried sick, more worried than I’ve ever seen them. Peter, they have no idea where you are or if you’re even okay! We should at least tell them-.”

You swallowed the rest of your words as you noticed that he made to leave.

“I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come here-.”

“Wait, wait!”

You grabbed onto the back of his shirt. You weren’t any match for him, but you were thankful that he halted. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, your lips brushing his shoulder as you spoke.

“Stay. Please stay,” you whispered.

His shoulders heaved as he sighed, and you continued.

“I’m sorry, okay? We don’t...we don’t have to tell them anything. If you don’t want to go back that’s fine, but… I’ve been so worried.”

That last part was said so softly, it was a wonder he even heard you. He didn’t say anything, nor did he move for a while, but eventually he turned around, and you let your arms fall. When your eyes met his again, you watched the way they narrowed, forehead creasing just a bit. You didn’t understand why until he reached up to press his fingers to the skin beneath your eyes. You could see the disapproval in his eyes, and all you could offer was a shrug.

“I was so worried.”

Peter blinked, face falling before he pulled you into his arms again. You returned the hug and let your eyes fall closed, just basking in the feel of him. You could hear his heartbeat, so slow...and so faint, something that seemed impossible. You told yourself you were imagining it.

“You’ll stay, right?”

He threw you a small smile when you pulled back to look at him, and you watched the way his dark eyes ran over you, lingering on your neck a tad longer than the rest of you before his eyes met yours again.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

You smiled at him, pulling him towards your bed. You settled in, only just realizing how cold you had gotten, while Peter got in behind you. Your head hit the pillow just as he turned the light out, and you frowned when you noticed that he wasn’t completely laying down. He was on his side, facing you with his head propped up onto his hand.

“You’re not tired?”

His eyes trailed to your window, staring out into the night for a moment before he shook his head.

“No...not really.”

You chuckled.

“So you’re just going to watch me sleep?” you wondered.

He reached towards you with his other hand, brushing his fingers along your neck and collarbone, fingers cool against your warm skin. A shudder passed through you.

“I missed you,” was his only answer, and it made your heart soar.

You knew that he didn’t miss you like you missed him, but it made you happy to hear that nonetheless.

“I missed you too.”

He didn’t respond, and you closed your eyes, the feel of his fingers on your skin oddly soothing. He always made you nervous, but not tonight. You wondered if it was because you had gone without him for so long, unsure if he would ever return. Sleep was just within your reach, but something weighed on your mind that prevented you from grabbing hold of it.

“Why don’t you want to go back?”

Your voice was small in the otherwise quiet room, and when Peter didn’t answer right away, you peeled your eyes open. He had stopped touching you, fingers curling into the covers as his jaw clenched.

“They won’t want me back.”

You frowned, forcing yourself to sit up. You blinked at him a few times, lips parting as you processed what that meant. Why wouldn’t they want him back? Peter was part of the team, one of the most loved members of the team. Said team was practically sick with worry, had been for over a week. Despite the fact that Peter was right in front of you and seemingly safe and sound, worry began to take hold again.

“Why wouldn’t they want you back?”

Your best friend didn’t answer you, and your worry grew, heartbeat picking up. Peter’s eyes were on you now as he sat up too, so focused and intense.

“What happened on your mission, Peter? What happened in Bulgaria?”

Again, Peter didn’t respond, but the minute you moved closer to him, he snatched your arm. Startled, you almost fell over, but his fingers curled around your wrist and pulled you closer, guiding the palm of your hand right to his chest.

Where his heart was.

Again, like before, you noted that his heartbeat was so slow. And even fainter. It was almost nonexistent, and your brows crinkled. You had felt and heard his heartbeat many times before since he’d become Spider-Man, and you knew that this was no effect of the spider bite. You had a hard time wrapping your mind around what you were feeling, and you looked at him again.

“I have...I have to tell you something…”

You fought to keep your worry at bay, noting the way Peter’s voice shook.

“I may even have to show you...but you have to promise me…”

His hand tightened on your wrist, and he released a shaky breath.

“...promise me that you won’t be scared.”

Scared of Peter? He was your best friend, and you couldn’t ever imagine being afraid of him. Still, you felt like he needed this so you nodded.

“Okay.”

Peter’s side of the bed was empty when you woke up, and your heart lurched in a mild panic before you realized why. The sun shone through your window, bathing your room in the warm rays, and you swallowed as you wondered where he could’ve gone.

“I’m right here.”

You snapped your head up to find him standing in the hall, just outside of your doorway. He was out of the sun’s reach, and you slid out of bed to join him. He was watching you like he couldn’t anticipate your next move, and you sent him a smile to reassure him.

“Do you...need anything…?”

You didn’t come right out and say it, but you both knew what you were asking. He studied you for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. I...ate before I came here last night,” he told you.

You nodded and folded your arms over your chest with a long sigh. You could feel his eyes on you as you looked away.

“Look, Peter...I know you're not going to like what I have to say, but…”

You chanced a glance at him and found his dark eyes narrowed at you.

“I think you need to tell Tony.”

He briefly closed his eyes before letting them fall to the ground, hands shoved in his pockets.

“If anyone can help you, he can.”

Peter scoffed, a humorless sound.

“Help me with what? It’s not like he can fix this, Y/N. This goes past Tony Stark and all of his intellect,” he practically spat, frustration coloring his tone. “This is what I am now.”

You grabbed his hands, squeezing them as you moved closer.

“I know, I know. I just meant...maybe he can help you safely get what you need.”

His eyes met yours, albeit reluctantly.

“...and maybe he can help you control your appetite better. That way...that way you won’t hurt anyone else,” you quietly finished, recalling everything he’d told you.

Guilt passed through Peter’s features at the reminder of what he’d done. He closed his eyes, practically squeezing them shut as his shoulders heaved, a small sigh escaping him.

“Maybe...you’re right,” he hesitantly admitted.

You could see the war going on within him when he opened his eyes, conflict and guilt and self-loathing all passing over his face.

“Hey.”

He looked at you.

“You’re still you. You just...your diet’s a little different now, that’s all.”

He cracked a smile, a small chuckle leaving him, and you joined him.

“When the sun goes down, we’ll go to the compound, and...and everything will be okay,” you promised him.

He nodded, and hours later, when the sun was safely behind the horizon, that was what you did. You drove. Peter was still wary of his new strength, strength that far surpassed what he had before. Your wrist was still sore from when he’d grabbed you last night, but you didn’t want him to feel any worse than he already did.

Having called Tony on the way, he was waiting outside when you arrived. As per requested, he was the only one. You didn’t want Peter to get overwhelmed. You weren’t exactly sure of what he was capable of now, neither one of you really were, and you didn’t want to stress him out.

Tony had pulled him into a hug the minute he reached him, and your heart clenched for many reasons. You hoped that you’d made the right decision. Tony loved Peter. He’d help him, right? When he pulled away, the bearded man’s eyes flickered between the two of you with a frown.

“So you’re going to tell me what the hell this is all about?”

Before you could respond, Peter moved to pull him inside.

“It’s a long story, Mr. Stark…”

His voice trailed off as they went inside, and with a small sigh, you eventually followed. Neither one of them were present, and you figured that they went to the lab. You had a feeling that everyone else was there too, or at least not far off. They’d been worried sick and now Peter was back, seemingly unharmed. Of course they’d be concerned and curious.

Wanda was the only one who greeted you, and her eyes were wide as they met yours. They were a bit accusatory, even fearful, and you pursed your lips. She probably didn’t mean to, but it was easy to guess that she’d been inside of Peter’s head. She knew, and there was no telling what she saw.

“Y/N…?”

You shook your head.

“He’s still him, Wanda. Okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue as you moved past her to go to your room. You didn’t see anyone else the rest of the night, and you knew that they were all caught up with Peter. Figuring out how this happened, running tests, coming up with the best course of action. You were in and out of sleep when you heard Peter come into your room in the early hours of the morning.

He wrapped his arms around you as he slid in behind you, and even though he wasn’t as warm as he used to be, the familiarity of it all immediately relaxed you. You felt him bury his nose in your hair, taking a deep breath as he breathed you in, fingers brushing over the skin of your arms.

“Everything okay?” you mumbled, referring to Tony and the rest of the team.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “He wants me to drink pig’s blood, but yeah. Everything’s okay.”

You chuckled at that, sleep finding you once more as you smiled at Peter’s joke. However, it was the next day when you discovered that he hadn’t been joking at all.

“You’re serious?”

Peter nodded with a frown, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the counter.

“He wants to start weaning me off of human blood and start transitioning to animal blood,” he grumbled.

You noted that he wasn’t happy about that, and your curiosity got the better of you.

“Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily, no,” he sighed. “He thinks it’ll help me. That maybe I’ll...crave human blood less and it’ll lower my chances of losing control around someone.”

You blinked, wondering if you agreed with that.

“I mean, he doesn’t exactly know. This is all just trial and error, right now, because probably for the first time in Mr. Stark’s life, he’s stumped,” Peter said with a shrug. “...but it’s worth a shot.”

You felt like there was more to it, like he wanted to say something else.

“He doesn’t know that I already tried that,” he whispered.

You leaned against the opposite counter, watching as his frown deepened, eyes troubled.

“When I woke up...I felt like I had swallowed fire,” he murmured. “My teeth hurt, my throat burned, and my mind was going a mile a minute. I felt like I was losing it.”

He sounded angry as he glared at the floor.

“The only thing that even smelled slightly appealing was…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I must have killed at least 100 animals. Anything I could get my hands on… It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch, only 1,000 times worse. It wasn’t until...it wasn’t until I came across those hikers…”

He swallowed his words, letting his face fall into his hands. You neared him, resting your hand on his arm.

“It was the first time I’d felt okay in days. I could finally freaking think,” he said through clenched teeth, letting his hands fall. “There I was...covered in blood...surrounded by bodies of innocent people...and I was finally at peace.”

You pulled him into a hug as he recounted what he’d already told you. You knew that Peter wouldn’t ever forget that moment, but God, you wanted him to. That wasn’t who he was, you knew it, and you wanted him to know it too. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, nose brushing over the skin, and his hands rested on your waist.

Your conversation with Nat weighed on your heart. Like she’d said, Peter was back, and you could finally tell him, but it didn’t seem appropriate. The man had been attacked and turned into something you thought only existed in books. This was a hard time for him, and it seemed silly to drop one more thing onto him, one more thing that could definitely wait.

“I wouldn’t get too close to him if I were you, Y/N. He might mistake you for a quarter pounder.”

You pulled away just as Bucky’s deep chuckle reached your ears, and you turned to see both him and Sam enter the kitchen. Sam seemed pleased with his little joke.

“You’re not funny,” you told him, completely unamused.

“It’s a little funny,” Bucky disagreed, and you huffed.

You felt Peter pull away, and by the time you looked over your shoulder, he was gone.

“Seriously?”

You threw them an incredulous look, and Sam shrugged.

“Look, we’ve got to find some humor in this okay? The kid’s got fangs and he lives off of blood now,” Sam said like it was the most absurd thing in the world.

Considering that you all were friends with literal Gods and even a woman who controlled the weather, you were inclined to disagree.

“This is hard for him, okay?”

You weren’t sure if they knew the full extent of what he’d done, but you heard Sam sigh, and Bucky at least looked a little sheepish.

“I’m sure he’ll joke about it when he’s ready, but please let him do it in his own time. His whole life has changed...again.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the club,” Bucky sighed.

You rolled your eyes and turned away with a scoff.

“What’d I say?” you heard Bucky ask, but you were already making your way to Peter’s room.

You were surprised that he told you to come in when you knocked, and you slowly stepped inside. He was on his bed, hand behind his head as he scrolled through his phone.

“You okay?”

He let his hand fall, greeting you with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m good. They don’t mean any harm, so I’m not going to let it get to me,” he replied, reaching for you.

You joined him on the bed, laying your head on his shoulder as he told F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn on the tv.

“Want to watch a movie with me? As silly as it seems, all I could think about was curling up with you and watching a movie the whole time I was away,” he confessed.

Your heart fluttered, sure he could hear it, but he didn’t comment on it. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

His hand tightened on your hip as you figured out what movie to put on.

Every day, Peter went to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and every time he returned, he always seemed irritated. You tried not to comment on the harshness of his eyes and tautness of his jaw, but eventually, you had to express your concern.

“It’s nothing,” he told you one day. “They just keep treating me like some science experiment gone wrong.”

He played it off like no big deal, but you could tell that he was genuinely bothered.

“...and its this stupid diet or whatever you can even call it! It’s not working. It’s not satisfying or fulfilling, at all. I can’t taste a damn thing, I’m just drinking to get full? If that’s what you can even call it. It does absolutely nothing to satisfy me or quell this desire…”

He trailed off at your light chuckle.

“Alright, Edward Cullen.”

He threw you a hard look, and you swallowed your laughs. While he was finally making jokes about the situation himself now, you realized that now was not the time.

“Sorry…”

He heaved a long sigh, turning to stare out of the window.

“You wanna get out of here?” he suddenly asked.

You blinked at him.

“Now?”

He glanced at the clock, and so did you. It was almost 2 in the morning.

“I can’t think of a better time,” he replied.

You chewed on your lip.

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged. “Just for a little bit…”

He hadn’t left the compound in weeks, Tony far too paranoid, and you could see how much he needed this.

“Okay.”

That was how 40 minutes later, you found your car parked near a small pond while you and Peter leaned against it, staring at the full moon. Neither one of you had said anything since you left, and you guessed that Peter was in his thoughts. You couldn’t blame him.

“You know, if I’d been bitten by a werewolf, we’d be having a totally different night, right now.”

You barked a laugh, and he joined you.

“If you were bitten by a werewolf, I’d be trying to play fetch with you,” you replied.

He chuckled again, and the two of you fell into another easy silence. Your eyes narrowed a bit as something weighed on your mind, and you suddenly crossed your arms over your chest.

“Why won’t Tony let you have any human blood? I mean, blood banks exist…”

Peter sighed, a frustrated sound, and you turned to look at him. The cool nightly breeze blew his dark hair around his face, and his jaw clenched.

“He thinks it’ll make me crave it more. Kind of like an addict, you know?”

You shook your head, disagreeing with that.

“...but...it’s not. This is part of your DNA, now, is it not? He shouldn’t be looking at it like a drug but instead like...food. It’s what you need to survive, now,” you explained.

“You’re right...but that’s blood I’d be taking away from people who need it. Besides, it’d be pretty messed up of me to…‘convince’ some stranger to let me drink from them and then alter their memory of the whole thing,” he mumbled.

“That’s right. You did tell me you can do that, now,” you mused.

“I’m pretty sure it’ll come in handy during missions. You know, if I ever go on one again,” he complained.

Your heart hurt for Peter. His entire life had been turned on its head again. He couldn’t go on missions, couldn’t even see his aunt, and on top of it all, he couldn’t even satisfy the craving his body had for what it actually needed. You pursed your lips and glanced at him again. You were positive he noticed before, but this time he commented on it.

“What?”

You glanced away from him, heart speeding up a bit as you wrung your hands together.

“What about me?”

He didn’t respond right away, and when you looked at him again, his eyes were on you. They were narrowed, hard, but you could see the spark of something in them that gave you hope that maybe this wasn’t such a horrible idea after all. Peter’s lips parted, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight before he snapped his mouth shut. He cleared his throat.

“You...you would do that?”

“Of course,” you said with a frown, turning your body completely to face him. “This is what you need, and you’re my best friend, and I’m willing. So you don’t have to let your morals get in the way.”

Peter stared at you for what seemed like a long time, eyes roaming over every inch of you. You watched as he swallowed, the conflict written all over his face. You could see that he was scared, afraid that he’d hurt you, but you could also see the fire in his eyes, the desire to take you up on your offer.

“Worst case scenario-.”

“You die?”

You rolled your eyes at him, stepping closer.

“You won’t let me die, Peter. We both know it,” you whispered, pushing your sleeve up and holding your arm out.

Peter’s dark eyes snapped to the bared skin, no doubt tracing the veins that you couldn’t see. Hesitantly, he grabbed your wrist, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting your arm as he bent his head. His breath, like everything else about him now, was cool against your skin. You watched as he closed his eyes, dark lashes contrasting against his fair skin, before opening his mouth. You barely got a glimpse of his sharp canines in all of their glory before they were sinking into your arm.

The reaction from you both was instantaneous.

A loud gasp escaped you, but not from pain. No. Your body heated up like never before, blood on fire as Peter let out an equally loud groan. An addicting sense of euphoria descended over you, and you felt your legs shaking, lashes fluttering as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Sensing this, Peter reached out with his free hand and tangled it within your hair, pulling you closer until your head leaned against his shoulder.

You could feel him moving forward, and he didn’t stop until your back was against your car. His hand tightened in your hair, almost painfully, but all you let out was a moan, your breath choppy and lips trembling as he pressed his leg in between yours. Your free hand clutched his jacket, attempting to pull him closer, and a low moan escaped his own throat as he pushed his thigh more firmly against your now heated core.

You faintly noted that this was a lot more erotic than you anticipated, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. He was still pressing your head to his shoulder, and your lips brushed the fabric of his jacket as you murmured his name.

“Peter...Peter…”

You couldn’t tell if you were asking him to stop or not, but considering this was the best high you’d ever been on, you concluded that you were not. Suddenly, all too soon, Peter practically ripped himself away from you, and you would’ve fallen to the ground if he hadn’t caught you. Your chest was heaving, so was his, and when you peeled your eyes open, his own wide ones were focused on you.

“Shit,” he cursed, looking like he was seconds away from getting in trouble. “Shit, shit, shit. I shouldn’t have done that. Mr. Stark is going to kill me…”

“Hey...it’s okay,” you panted, weakly reaching up to brush a dark strand out of his face. “I’m okay. How do you feel?”

He seemed stumped by the question, and he suddenly blinked, brows drawn together as he stared down at you. His lips were stained with your blood.

“I...haven’t felt this satisfied in weeks,” he whispered, looking at you strangely.

You weakly chuckled, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good.”

You had only been seconds away from falling when he caught you, and he finally straightened as he lifted you into his arms. You could feel yourself on the verge of sleep...or was it the verge of death? Either way, you were happy that Peter was happy. He gently deposited you into the passenger’s seat, strapping you into place. Your head lolled as he shut the door, facing him as he settled behind the wheel.

You could feel his eyes on you, and with difficulty, you opened yours again. He was staring at you with that look again, and you were sure he thought you crazy for putting your life in danger like that. The car was quiet, just the sound of your shallow breathing could be heard, and you thought to yourself that you kind of wanted to tell him you loved him. However, before you could, Peter leaned over and pressed his blood-stained lips to yours.

It was quick and soft, just the barest of touches, but it made your eyes widen nonetheless. You stared at him as he sat back and started the car, and you wanted to keep staring at him, wanted to ask him what the hell was that, but sleep finally got to you before you could.

It was days before you finally discussed what had happened, and that was only because it was days before Peter needed to “feed” again.

“I think I can go longer without when it’s human blood...because it’s what actually satisfies me. What my body needs,” he murmured one night while you were watching a movie you’d both seen a million times.

“That’s a good thing. Surely Tony will see that this is the best thing to do. This is what will keep you in control and allow you to go on missions again...see your aunt May…”

You had decided to keep what happened between the two of you, but you didn’t exactly feel right about it. Peter sighed and shook his head.

“No. I think he’d send me away,” he quietly told you.

You quickly moved your head to look up at him, your cheek on his chest as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s been doing research, trying to find others like me. I think he has. I overheard him talking to the captain and Sam one day. He’s thinking about sending me somewhere I can learn to control my thirst and utilize my new…abilities or whatever,” he grumbled.

You fully sat up now, looking down at him with a stricken expression. His eyes finally moved away from the screen, and he smiled at you, rubbing your back in a soothing manner.

“I’m not going to let him send me away, Y/N, but he’ll definitely try if we tell him what happened.”

You nodded, forcing your heart to slow before you laid back down. Peter’s hand was still on your back, tracing patterns into your, well, his shirt. You listened to his slow heartbeat, the organ pumping what was left of your blood through his body. Your lashes fluttered when he dragged his fingers up to your neck, the appendages playing with the hair there. You found yourself humming when he tightened his hold there, and you looked up in confusion, prepared to ask him what he was doing when his other hand gripped your arm, and he pulled you up.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was nothing like the first one. You gasped against his mouth, and he wasted no time before taking the opportunity to taste the inside of yours. Peter moaned into the kiss, circling both arms around you now as he rolled the both of you over. He settled himself between your parted legs, and you sharply inhaled at the bulge you felt there.

Peter’s hand traveled to your neck again, grasping the hair at the nape, holding you in place as he dragged his mouth down. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he bit you, throwing your hands out to grasp anything you could. Your right hand hit the lamp on the nightstand, and it fell to the floor with a soft crash. Peter’s other hand pressed into your back, forcing you to arch your chest into his.

His hips were rolling into yours, his clothed member pressing against the most sensitive part of you so deliciously. You let out a soft moan, one hand clawing at his shirt, pushing the fabric up to drag your nails along his back. Peter had you completely pinned in between him and the mattress, every curve of his hips sending pleasure through you.

“Peter,” you moaned, reaching up to drag your hand along the headboard. “Fuck, Peter.”

You could feel your blood crawling past your neck, staining his sheets, but he didn’t seem to care. The bed shook a bit from his movements, and you hooked one leg on his waist as he continued to grind into you. You could feel yourself fading, and you welcomed it, and before you could, one particularly slow roll of his hips sent you over the edge.

You were a moaning mess as you came beneath him, his teeth still embedded in your neck. Your whole body shook, legs practically vibrating as they fell around him, chest heaving as he finally pulled away. He licked at your neck, and your arms fell to the bed, soft murmurs leaving your lips to which Peter chuckled at. He brushed his thumb over your lip before leaning back down, lips grazing your ear.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You did, he was, and he greeted you with a kiss, further filling you with confusion as you wondered just what you were. You didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to break the spell by trying to make him define this. You simply wanted to enjoy whatever this was, and enjoy it you did.

Every few days or so, you found yourself squirming beneath Peter one way or another. Sometimes he simply pressed kisses along your neck as he rolled his hips into yours, sometimes his teeth were in you, and sometimes his fingers were in you, the sound of it so loud as he thrust them in and out of your fluttering core. The rest of the team was none the wiser as you both satisfied each other in more ways than one. It was usually in the dead of night when everyone else was asleep, and Peter was wide awake.

“Ngh, Peter,” you panted, fingers twisted into his dark locks.

You were completely naked before him, a first, as he swiped his tongue over your wet folds, another first. His own fingers were pressed into your thighs, holding them down in a way that hurt so good. The cool air hit the bite mark on the inside of your left thigh, and you hissed as Peter slid his tongue past your slick walls, tasting every inch of you that he could.

A thin layer of sweat covered your frame, and you realized that you lost track of how long Peter had been alternating between tasting your blood and tasting your lips. His mouth completely covered you, and you shuddered when he sucked on your little bundle of nerves, sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

You could feel your...3rd? 4th? Or was it the 5th climax of the night that you felt approaching? You were so tired, but Peter didn’t seem to have gotten his fill of you, and his lips kissed along your mound before traveling to the space in the crease of your thigh before he swiped his tongue over your thigh itself, the unmarked one. It was dark in the room, and when Peter glanced up at you, dark promises in his eyes, you noted that they almost seemed to glow in the dark, like that of a feline.

He wasted no time before sinking his teeth into your skin again, and you pressed your hand to your mouth to keep from making too much noise. You knew that he’d ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y to soundproof the room, but it was a force of habit by now. Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, and that was how you fell asleep that night, with Peter’s face in between your legs, drinking from you in any way he saw fit.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Bucky sarcastically greeted as you walked into the kitchen the next morning.

Steve threw you a sheepish smile, visibly sorry on Bucky’s behalf for his behavior.

“Cut it out, Buck.”

“I’m just acknowledging that the princess has been holed up in her room more often than not as of late. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you went home, but I noticed that you’re still eating my cereal, the only other person who eats the kind I like, so…”

You rolled your eyes as he trailed off, and he reached out to pull on your shirt as you neared.

“What’s with the turtleneck, squirt? I know it’s freezing outside, but in case you haven’t noticed, it’s 77 degrees in here.”

You tensed at his words, and you ignored the way Steve eyed you over his mug.

“I just think I’m coming down with something is all. I’m a little chillier than usual today,” you lied.

He simply hummed, and that was when you finally noticed his attire. Steve too.

“Are you guys going on a mission?”

“You’d know the answer to that if you actually left your room once in a while,” Bucky grumbled, and Steve lightly shoved his shoulder.

“Yeah, the whole team’s heading out. Well...except…” Steve trailed off, and you nodded. “...but Nat and Sam are supposed to be returning from their assignment today, so they’ll be back later.”

You nodded at Steve’s words, not quite liking the way that he was studying you. You hurriedly poured your own cup of coffee, quietly telling them to “be safe” before moving to get out of Steve’s watchful eye.

Hours later found you and Peter on the couch, hardly paying any attention to the movie before you. You had the compound to yourselves, something you looked forward to, but Peter had other ideas than that of what you were thinking.

“You want to...leave?”

You frowned at him, unsure that you heard him right. Peter was facing you with his elbow on the back of the couch, propping his head up as his other hand traced your collarbone.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Mr. Stark...I think he’s getting serious about sending me away for a while. I think he suspects us, but I’m not sure.”

You mulled over his suggestion, unsure of how you felt about it.

“They couldn’t even find me last time. I’d make sure they’d never find us,” he told you.

“I...I don’t know. I mean, I love you, but I’d miss everyone else,” you replied.

When you looked to him, he looked surprised, and his lips parted as he blinked at you.

“...what?”

Your brows drew together.

“What?”

He scooted closer, a slow grin forming on his pink lips.

“You love me?”

You scoffed at him.

“Of course. Peter, I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” you finally confessed.

You thought that it would’ve been obvious by now, but Peter just looked as if you told him he’d won a million dollars. Before you could register it, he reached out to pull you into a kiss. It was passionate and full of yearning...and hungry. You wrapped your arms around his neck and moved closer, Peter’s hand pressing into the small of your back. His lips trailed from your own down to your jaw, pressing kisses there and to your neck. You’d changed shirts as soon as everyone had left.

You knew what he wanted, what he needed, and you welcomed it as he pressed his teeth into your skin. A breathy moan climbed out of your throat as he laid you down. Your heart was going haywire in your chest, the realization that Peter returned your feelings finally hitting you. His hands ran over you, brushing over your breasts and down your sides before he hooked them underneath your thighs.

He pressed his bloody lips to your décolletage, nipping at the skin there before they grazed the swell of your breasts. He bit into the flesh that spilled over the top of your shirt, and you trembled beneath him, a loud moan escaping you. He growled into your skin, fingers pressing into your thighs almost painfully. You weren’t sure how long you remained beneath him, lashes fluttering and lips parted as ecstasy clouded your mind, but eventually, you felt yourself fading in a way you had never felt before.

Your vision blurred, and you could feel your heart starting to slow.

“Peter,” you worriedly murmured.

He seemed preoccupied with releasing himself from his jeans, fingers brushing over you as he reached underneath your skirt. You opened your mouth to protest, but all that came out was a choked sound, the sound transforming into a breathy gasp when he thrust into you.

“Peter,” you weakly called.

You could feel yourself fading fast, and Peter’s own breath was harsh as he drank from you, snapping his hips into yours with every thrust. You could faintly hear a door opening, and you wanted to warn him, but you could hardly move, let alone speak. Darkness creeped along the edge of your vision, and the last thing you heard before going under was a feminine scream.

You knew that you were in the infirmary before you even opened your eyes. The steady beep of the monitor next to you told you that whatever condition you had been in was pretty serious. You struggled to open them, but when your eyes finally peeled open, you noticed that the room was empty.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you’re awake,” F.R.I.D.A.Y noted. “I will inform Mr. Stark immediately.”

You cringed, squeezing your eyes shut at the mention of the last superhero you wanted to see. You just knew that you were going to get an earful, and you didn’t really care to hear it. You just wanted to know where Peter was and if he was okay.

Tony burst through the doors a lot sooner than you would have liked, and you avoided his eye. He didn’t say anything, and you knew that he was angry, because when did Tony Stark ever have absolutely nothing to say?

“Are you insane?” he finally wondered, and you sighed.

“Where’s Peter?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he snapped, and you finally looked at him as he stomped towards your bed. “You could’ve died.”

You shrank underneath his cold stare and harsh words, glancing away.

“Do you get that, Y/N? When Nat and Sam got here…”

He trailed off, face reddening as he was no doubt recalling what he’d been told, probably what he’d even seen thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y. You watched as he swallowed, releasing a breath.

“Any later, and you would’ve been dead,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly told him. “I just wanted to help him.”

He heaved a long sigh, a tired and exasperated sound.

“I know you love him…”

You frowned at that, wondering if the whole damn team knew.

“...but he needs help from people who can help him. Help him to control himself, hone his new skills, help him so that he doesn’t kill you,” Tony finished, and you blinked back tears. “Go home and let us handle Peter. When the time is right, he’ll be able to see you again.”

The tears finally spilled over, and with a shake of his head, Tony left you. After a few more days in the infirmary, and several blood transfusions later, you did as Tony instructed. It felt strange to be back home after spending nearly 2 months at the compound with Peter. As you entered your room, sitting on your bed, you felt silly.

Tony had been right. You had almost died. You recalled the feel of your life literally slipping away as Peter drank from you, too lost in the taste and feel of you to notice that he was losing control. You had only wanted to help him, and you had ended up making things worse. Was Tony right to treat it like an addiction? Had you hindered Peter more than you helped him? You didn’t know. All you knew was that your actions almost led to your death at Peter’s hand, and that Tony’s actions had not.

You didn’t know where Peter was, but you had faith that he was alright. You hoped that Tony didn’t give him too hard of a time for what he’d done, but you knew that was unlikely. Nat, poor Nat, had literally walked in on him feeding from you and fucking you. There was no telling what the poor woman thought, and you hated the idea of them treating Peter like some wild animal that needed to be caged.

It was 3 nights later when you woke up to the feel of fingers ghosting over the side of your face as you slept. It took you a moment to register what was happening, but when you blinked your eyes open, you were surprised to come face to face with Peter as he stood over you.

“P-Peter?”

You struggled to sit up, and you rubbed your eyes, noting the way his own dark ones lingered on your neck.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re getting out of here. C’mon,” he said, reaching for you.

You frowned at him, and you watched his own face fall.

“I don’t...I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you honestly told him.

He frowned at you, and guilt tore through you for more reasons than one.

“Don’t listen to Mr. Stark-.”

“Maybe I should’ve. Maybe...maybe he knew what he was talking about,” you said, cutting him off.

His hand fell to his side, and his dark eyes narrowed on you.

“You’re afraid of me,” he murmured.

“No! No...not really-.”

He cut you off with an angry sigh, and you folded your arms over your chest.

“I almost died, Peter!”

You watched the conflict on his features, brows furrowing ever so slightly.

“...and you would’ve never forgiven yourself...and I feel like it’s my fault…”

Peter stood over you, dressed plainly but darkly, chocolate locks kissing his forehead as he stared at you. He didn’t look happy.

“So you’re taking his side,” he surmised.

“I just think you should hear him out,” you whispered. “We tried it our way...and look what happened.”

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat there, and he stood there, both of you just staring at each other. You watched the way Peter’s jaw clenched, and he suddenly reached out to tangle his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a kiss as he neared. You pressed your hands against his chest, but Peter forced his way onto your bed, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of you as he moved his mouth against yours.

“Mm, Peter,” you protested, turning your head away.

“They think I raped you, you know,” he quietly said, the loud sound of tearing fabric filling the room as he ripped your t-shirt straight down the middle.

Your eyes went wide at his words, and he chuckled, the corner of his lips quirking upwards into a smirk.

“Oh, yeah. They think I coerced you with my new abilities or even just flat out bit you and took you anyway I saw fit,” he whispered.

The irony of the situation was not lost on you, and you desperately fought against him. Your underwear was next, and you were no match against Peter’s newfound strength as he batted your hands away, moving to remove his own clothes.

“They don’t know that I had you squirming beneath me, purring and mewling like a desperate kitten.”

His voice was husky, thick with the desire to sink both his teeth and cock into you. He gripped your legs, separating them like it was nothing despite your efforts to keep them closed.

“They think that you’re bad for me…”

It was embarrassingly easy for him to slide into you, your velvet walls giving him a wet welcome. He sighed out as he pressed into you, dark eyes somehow darker.

“...they think I’ve formed some supernatural bond with you, some kind of blood tie…”

A choked moan slipped past your lips as he started to thrust into you, and Peter leaned down to press kisses to the corner of your mouth.

“...and they might be right, but it only cements what we both know.”

His hands pressed into the sheets beside your head, his labored breathing reaching your ears as he pulled back and snapped his hips into yours again and again. Your head was spinning from the way he dragged his cock through your clenching walls, completely unrelenting in his pace. While this technically wasn’t the first time he fucked you, it was the first time you were coherent enough to truly feel what was happening.

“Peter,” you murmured.

His nose brushed against yours with every thrust, and he released a shaky breath.

“...and what do we both know?”

There was a desperation in his eyes that took you by surprise, and your heart clenched.

“Say it...for me…”

You swallowed, lashes fluttering as he slowed down his thrusts.

“I’m yours.”

His own eyes fell closed at the admission, slowly sinking himself into you, basking in the feel of you wrapped around him.

“You gave me your blood...your body…”

He leaned down to trail kisses along your neck, rolling his hips against yours.

“...and you’ll give me your soul. You’re mine in every way a woman possibly can be. In every way a human can be,” he purred, sharp teeth grazing over your warm flesh.

His words made your stomach flutter, walls clenching around him, and just then, your phone buzzed. Like that first night, it was in your sheets somewhere, and the continuous buzzing told you that it was a phone call. You had a guess as to who it could be and what they wanted.

They were looking for Peter.

You looked to him when he paused, watching as his face darkened. He wrapped his hand around your noisy phone before throwing it at the wall, the device shattering upon impact. His dark eyes met yours again, and he kissed you, stealing your breath away as he moved within you again.

“They want to know if I’m with you...if you’re safe…”

You could feel him smiling against your lips, and your nails pressed into his sides, hanging on as he pushed his knees beneath your thighs, widening your legs and forcing a guttural moan from you.

“They think you’re in danger around me...and they’re probably right, but not the kind of danger they’re thinking of.”

One of his hands fisted itself into your hair, pulling your head back, baring your throat to him, and you knew what was coming.

“You don’t know how much I fought with myself that first night...how badly I wanted to tear into you anyway I could,” he whispered, voice strained. “You were all I thought about when I was attacked...when I changed…”

His hips sped up, the sound of slapping skin filling the room as he pistoned into you.

“For your sake, I’m glad you gave yourself to me, because I planned to take you from the very moment I stepped into your bedroom.”

His teeth pressed into your neck, breaking the skin, and your climax washed over you, euphoria clouding your mind and senses as Peter drank from you. His thrusts didn’t stop, and one hand pressed into the headboard above you, blood staining your pillow as the bed shook from the movement of his thrusts. You knew that Peter was far from done for the night, finally claiming what he felt was rightfully his.

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie @kellyn1604 @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway @mcudarklibrary @ksjksjkv @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

#dark!peter parker #dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark peter x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel fanfiction #Dark Fic

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dokoni-mo · 4 years ago

Text

She Truly Was || Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader

Summary: Enmu helps Muzan remember you.

SFW // Fluff with small amounts of Angst

Word Count: 4626

WARNINGS: *slight Mugen Train spoilers*, slight mentions of implied sexual activity, obsessive(?) behavior, Muzan is soft for one person only, some angst, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, I also barely proofread this lol

A/N: I've had this in my head for a while and decided to write it down. This is largely just a compilation of scenarios I made in my head to fall asleep at night when I was stressing over exams and stuff, all loosely thrown together with a plot. This is my first time writing for demon slayer, so please be patient! I also am basing a lot of my info about the characters on s1 of the anime, some of the manga, and the wiki. I apologize if something isn't accurate. tldr; I just think he's neat.

Despite having lived through thousands of years with hundreds of stormy nights in the midst, Muzan Kibutsuji never learned to appreciate them.

Something about nights like those in Japan just never sat right with the demon. It wasn't that they were too dreary, not at all. Life as a demon was plenty dreary. On the other hand, it wasn't that they were to lively either. No one ever went out on stormy nights; demon or not. Perhaps it was just because the rain was another reminder of the singularity that was being a demon. The poignant pitter patter just seemed to have a way of whispering to whoever heard it, telling them the most unpleasant yet quiet truths of their lives.

After Muzan's bloody meeting with the lower moons, he had told Enmu his task Muzan had planned for the pitiful, weaker demon. Although he had doubts that Enmu could hear him over the sound of the weaker demon's screams of pain from the blood he gave, Muzan was pleasantly surprised when Enmu understood the orders the first time around. Seeing as though it would cause trouble if the lower moon started to go around bragging about his newfound power and job, Muzan decided it would be best to keep a crimson eye on the demon.

This is what led to the scene before Muzan now.

Muzan had taken Enmu back to one of his many properties scattered across Japan, this one being tucked away in a lush, quiet forest in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The lower moon had not said a word throughout the entire journey there, and still refused to say anything now. Most likely out of fear.

Although it had been a long day of wrangling the lesser worms he called pawns (or "moons" if he was generous), Muzan did not want to show any weakness towards Enmu by resting. To busy himself, Muzan decided to do the tedious work the humans have him do in the job he took to please his human wife.

That insufferable woman.

With his bowler hat placed on his desk, Muzan had taken a seat in his large, leather chair, ordering Enmu to stand at the edge of the desk and face the opposite way. And, for extra edge, he was not to say or do anything.

It had been about two hours since then. The room was filled with only the sounds of Muzan's writing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Although he ordered it to be that way, Muzan was already sick of it.

Peering his red eyes up from the papers scrawled below him, Muzan fixated his bone-chilling gaze upon the back of Enmu's head. Muzan could see the corners of the lower moon's mouth turned upwards as he faced the wall, presenting himself with an expression of dumb content.

Freak.

Enmu was definately a curious specimen. So eager to die, yet so eager to please Muzan. The demon lord would have been confused if he were not who he was.

Perhaps it was his own boredom setting in, perhaps it was because he wanted to feed his already gargantuan ego, or perhaps it was just because he was tired, Muzan decided to speak up.

"Tell me," Muzan said, his deep, smooth voice making Enmu perk up slightly, "Why is it that are you so loyal to me?"

Enmu took this as an opportunity to finally move, but not without some caution. The lower demon only turned his neck towards Muzan, along with a tilt of his shoulder. Muzan noted the disobedience of orders, but decided to let it slide this time.

The rain must have told him to be generous that night.

"Why, Master Kibustsuji," Enmu said, a faint blush adorning his cheeks, "It is because I am so delighted to be in your presence, and have my power be of service to you."

The demon lord felt his jaw clench at this, his red eyes peering up at the lower moon from under his abyssal lashes. Although Enmu had an... odd, way of putting things, Muzan always did like it when someone stroked his ego, even if all they ever said was the same banter over and over again. He was nearly perfection, afterall.

Muzan sat quietly and pondered Enmu's response for a second, before formulating his own.

"Your power, as you put it," Muzan said, his voice firm, "What is it?"

Enmu's grin widened, "Dream Manipulation, Master. I can enter, manipulate, or control anyone's dreams however I want to. I can use it to kill from the inside, eating a person spirit first and body second. I can also put people to sleep."

Muzan wasn't necessarily impressed by this, but he wasn't disappointed either. An ordinary power, really. Nothing that could ever rival his own.

However...

Muzan's gaze flickered down to the surface of his desk. A flicker of a long lost yet not forgotten feeling bubbled deep inside of his being. A mere spark of light, really, a piece of warmth he felt from long ago, lost to the wayside by the vestiges of time.

It was something Muzan thought he would never experience again.

Dream manipulation, huh?

It might be worth a try.

Muzan looked back up to Enmu, sharpening his gaze, "Tell me, are you able to give... pleasant dreams?"

Enmu was surprised to hear this come from Muzan to say the absolute least. He took this as another opportunity to disobey orders and turn to Muzan again, this time fully and whole-heartedly. The lower moon looked right into those blood red eyes, looking for any sign of a rare flicker of humor or joking.

Muzan's gaze was serious, poised as ever.

Muzan was being for real.

Taking a pause to swallow, Enmu allowed his soft smirk to return to his gray, pale face.

"Why," the lower moon retorted, "I can, Master, yes."

Muzan eyed the lesser demon for a good second at his response.

This move was risky. It could damage his image. Yet, if he was to do this with any of his pawns, he would do it with Enmu. Enmu seemed to have no intent on harming Muzan or his image in any way; he was far too loyal for that.

Besides, if someone were to question the might of Muzan, he could just prove them wrong.

Muzan leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together, wrapping them around his knee. His icy gaze still on Enmu, he spoke again.

"I wish to see a pleasant dream."

Muzan nearly rolled his eyes when he saw just how wide Enmu's grin had gotten and just how flushed his face got.

It was repulsive.

But, if it meant what Muzan thought it would mean...

It was worth stomaching.

After a breif moment used to compose himself, Enmu's smile faded to normal again. He pulled up the sleeves to his coat.

"I will give you a dream where you will experience the happiest days of your life over again, Master Kibutsuji," the lower moon stated, "Is this to your liking or would you prefer something else?"

"No," Muzan stated flatly, "That is fine."

Perfect, even.

Enmu smiled widely one last time, holding out his arm and pointing it at the demon lord.

"Sweet dreams, my lord." Was the last thing Muzan heard before falling into a deep, deep sleep.

"Muzan..."

Despite his blood demon art being so much weaker than his, Muzan wasn't quite ready for just how Enmu put him into a dream like that. Muzan's headache had grown ten-fold now, and he could feel that his face was scrunched.

"Muzan..."

Slowly but surely regaining his full consciousness, Muzan could first feel that he was in different clothes than what he had been wearing before. These ones were lighter, softer, and much more airy than his normal suit. Squinting open his crimson eyes, he saw that he was in what appeared to be a long, dark, flowing kimono.

The second thing Muzan could feel was that it was rather cool where he was, and that he appeared to be lying on the ground. Sifting his weight slowly, he could then feel that his head was lain upon what felt like two soft, plush pillows firmly squished together.

The third thing, however, took him a little longer to discern quite that it was. At first, he thought it was a pair of chopsticks running across his scalp over and over again. Upon, further thought, however, Muzan was further snapped back into awareness.

Those were not chopsticks.

Those were fingers.

All too familiar fingers.

"Muzan..!"

Muzan felt a stir deep down inside of him. He recognized this feeling, this touch, this warmth. It had been so, so long since he had felt like this. How long was it again? It had to be an eternity ago. An eternity wrapped within all time time in the world.

Muzan was speechless. Muzan couldn't move. Muzan was struck from deep within, and nothing in the world could ever compare to its blow.

"Muzan!"

Although the calling of the demon's lord name had been going on for some time now, he was just now able to respond.

Tilting his chin upwards towards the voice's source, Muzan nearly fell to bits right then and there. If he was someone else, he would have wept deep, earnest tears at the very sight of the being above him. For everything and nothing surrounded him as he studied the bright, radiant face above him, and nothing else seemed to exist other than that smile.

Other than her.

Her.

Oh, her, her, her.

His beloved. His sun, moon and stars. The ground beneath his feet and the air around him. His joy and love, his woes and sorrow. His fears and excitement. His warmth and his cold.

You.

You were really here.

"I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up," you said, a faint laugh behind your voice, "You were out for so long!"

This scene was all too familiar to Muzan. He had replayed it in his head countless times, as if it were the only record left in the world.

He knew what this day was, and he knew all of your lines.

How could he ever forget?

Every moment he had ever spent with you had been a blessing.

Right now, his head was cradled in your lap, your soft, delicate fingers combing through his hair oh so gently as he had slept. It was deep into the night, and ordinarily Muzan would not be sleeping at this time. However, your touch was just so relaxing to him.

Everything about you was.

Today, you and him had spent the night wandering through the garden of your home together, chatting about anything and everything. It was only about two months into your relationship with Muzan. Muzan had first come to your home with the intention of eating everyone within the residence, but once he saw your face, watched you, saw your heart, your spirit, your you, he just couldn't.

He just...

couldn't.

You were human, yes.

But Muzan didn't care.

He was in love with you.

Muzan had yet to tell you the truth about him, however.

But that could come later.

"Muzan, are you alright?" He heard your voice echo again, snapping him out of his trance. He saw your face painted with worry, making his own features soften.

His darling angel. If only you knew just how much it pained him to see you with anything other than a smile.

Muzan reached his hand upwards, steadily maneuvering his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear and cup your warm cheek. He was shocked at how real you felt, shocked at just how similar it felt to all those years ago.

Perhaps Muzan had to give Enmu a reward.

The demon lord caressed your cheek gingerly with his cold, calloused thumb, savoring in just how warm your flesh was compared to his. For the first time in what felt like eons, Muzan felt a smile adorn his handsome features. Not one put on just to appease the humans around him, but genuine. The type of smile only you got to see.

Only you.

"I'm more than alright, my darling." He responded, his voice soft and warm, without the normal venom he gives to his subordinates. A voice reserved restrictively for you.

Finally, you let a soft grin come over your heavenly face again, making all seven of Muzan's hearts swell.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said, "But it's about to be dawn soon. I don't want you to get a burn, so let's go in the house again, okay?"

Ah yes, the lie Muzan told you. He, of course, couldn't be with you in the sunlight (as much as he wanted to). So he had told you that he had a rare disorder that made him extra prone to sunburns and heatstroke.

Just something to keep you safe from the truth.

His soft smile still adorning his features, Muzan gave you a nod as he slid his head off of your lap. Since you were on your knees, you were quicker to stand than him. Brushing off your kimono quickly, you offered one of your hands to Muzan to help him stand, of which he gladly took. He had long since forgotted just how perfectly your hand fit into his, along with how radiant your kimono made you look.

Once he was back on his feet, Muzan couldn't help but to hold your arms, holding you a few feet away from him to simply admire you for a moment, his crimson eyes doing laps around your face and body.

You were perfect to him.

Every single thing about you was without flaw in his eyes. Not one curve of your body was too shallow or too wide. Not one strand of your hair was misplaced or without poise. Not one feature on your face took away from your radiant beauty. And you had not one bad bone inside of your body.

Muzan was never one to believe in angels.

However, if anyone in any part of the world were to tell him that you were one of them, straight from the heavens themselves,

He would believe them.

As soon as Muzan stepped through the door, his hand in your own, the scene before him changed in one giant, peaceful flash of white light.

Before him now was no longer the house that he had shared with you all those years ago. Now, in its place, was a beautiful, lush springtime garden, all dredged under the cover of the night. It was not devoid of light, however. There were a few lanterns afloat in the water of the stream, as well as some within the structure of the small bridge that went over top of it. Flowers adorned every nook and cranny of the space, and the occasional insect or bird would make a brief appearance.

A small slice of paradise, just for you and Muzan Kibutsuji.

Fearing that you were no longer by his side, Muzan turned his head. His fears were quickly subsided when he saw you there next to him. Your delicate hands were placed on the railing of the bridge, and your eyes were fixated on the calm water below, almost as if it were a window into the heavens above. There was a small smile plastered on your face, and the delicate lights illuminated each of your features so perfectly.

Muzan knew this night.

This was the night he told you the truth.

The truth about him, about his "condition", about where he went for days on end, about why he couldn't walk with you in the sun, about everything.

This was the one night Muzan had ever felt fear.

"Is it really true, Muzan?" You asked, your gaze still fixated on the water below, "Are you really a demon?"

Muzan felt his lips part in small surprise. Even though he had replayed this night time and time again in his mind, it felt as if this were all happening for the first time over again.

Enmu really was good at this.

Muzan wet his lips before responding, setting his gaze on your precious, beautiful face and refusing to move it, "Yes, my love. It is true. I would not lie to you about this, I..."

A pause to collect this thoughts, before he could continue, "I kept it from you to protect you, (Y/N). I did not want any harm to come to you. My darling, I... I love you. My love for you knows no bounds. You are the stars that shine at night, and you are the shining moon above. Each time I look upon you, all I can stand to think of is how deep my love for you runs. I... I need you, (Y/N). I do not wish for you to be frightened of me, my angel. I would never, not ever harm you, nor let any harm come to you."

You still weren't looking at Muzan, yet your smile had yet to falter. Muzan felt a bubble of nervousness in his gut. Although he knew your response to his words already, even thinking of this moment never failed to make his stomach churn. He hoped his words to you were enough. He doubted that he had ever said anything more truthful in his entire life.

After a long pause of silence between the two of you, you closed your eyes and widened your smile. Then, you opened your eyes again, finally turning to face your lover. You looked Muzan right in the eyes, seemingly unfazed that you were standing so dangerously close to the most powerful being alive.

You were so brave.

Your heart was so big.

Muzan felt so overwhelmed.

"Muzan," you said, your cheeks dusting a light pink.

What you said next to him, Muzan could never get out of his head, never forget. No matter how much he tried, he would never not ever forget your words in that moment.

Within that one short, simple phrase, the king of demons fell in love all over again.

"I've always known."

Another flash within his crimson eyes, and the scene had changed again. Nighttime again, of course, but this time within the confines of the bedroom you and Muzan shared. Both you and Muzan were nude, sans the blanket that covered the lower half of your forms. Muzan was on his back, one strong arm wrapped around you, the other cradling the back of his head. Your legs were intertwined with his, and your hair and hands were sprawled out on top of his lean, muscular chest.

Muzan knew this night as well.

It was his most loved night with you, but also his most dreaded.

How cruel fate was.

Stroking your back with the tips of his fingers, Muzan stared up at the ceiling above the two of you. Your body was flush against his, and as warm as ever. He wondered to himself if he was making you cold. If he was, you didn't seem to mind.

After a long period of savoring the silence between you and him, you softly snorted out a cute, soft giggle. This made Muzan angle his chin downward to look at the top of your head.

"What is it?" He questioned.

You giggled again, tilting your head up to look at him. Smiling, you turned your body to lay on top of the demon king, your breasts smushing against his own. Instinctively, Muzan laid his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles into them as he held you in place.

"I just find it funny that even though you profess to have so much stamina, you get tired after only two rounds." You explained to him, a playful mischievousness in your tone and eyes.

Muzan breathed out a smile, reaching up a clawed hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"As I recall it, you were the one complaining it was too much." He quipped back.

You snorted, "As if that ever stopped you before."

The demon let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. Muzan couldn't remember ever laughing so genuinely before you came along. You truly were the light of his life. You filled his days with the sunlight he had long since forgotten, as well with the warmth no other demon could ever have.

He loved you.

He loved you he loved you he loved you.

And he still did.

He watched as you dropped your gaze to his chest, running your fingers along the flesh.

"Muzan..." you said, your voice more serious than before, "I've been thinking a lot lately..."

The demon king hummed, brushing more hair from your face.

"What has been on your mind, my love?" He asked.

You paused for a second before continuing on. Muzan could practically see the gears turning in your head.

"Well, I... I'm not getting any younger, you know, and I've been thinking. I... I really love you, Muzan. You're the only person I can imagine myself being with for the rest of my life. The other day, I was in town, and I saw the cutest family ever with a husband and a wife and two adorable little children, and it made me think..."

You looked up at him again, giving him a soft smile.

"What if we were to have a family of our own?"

Muzan could feel the same sense of joy, love, and pride in his chest as he did this same moment all those years ago. In this moment, he had never felt closer to you before, nor could you recall ever looking more beautiful.

He wanted nothing more than to be a family with you for the rest of eternity.

"Darling, you know what that would mean, correct?" He questioned you. He had told you long before that demons could only have offspring with other demons, for a demon baby would eat its human mother from the inside and kill her. It was gruesome, and had originally made you cringe at the thought. Muzan had thought your reaction was quite cute.

"Yes, yes, I know," you answered, "and I'd be ready for it. Even if I'm a demon, and even if I can never go out in the sun again or live normally ever again, I'd be happy knowing I got to be with you and our baby for the rest of time."

Muzan gave you a smile in return, his long, white fangs flashing in the light of the night. Leaning forward, he kissed you upon your soft, warms lips, gently pulling you closer to him.

This was one of the thousands of reasons why he loved you.

You were always so sweet, so kind and optimistic. He would admit, he did have a soft spot for you and you alone. But he didn't care. You were worth it. You were worth every single piece of money on planet earth. You were worth the sun the moon and the stars, and all the planets here and beyond. You were worth any injury, any heartache, and any trial or tribulation in the world.

The king of the demons unquestionably, unfathomably, undeniably, adored you.

Pulling gently away from the kiss, Muzan looked deep into your eyes, right past your pupils and looked right into your soul, your very being.

"I would want nothing more, my sunlight."

If Muzan could turn back the hands of time, he would have kept you here with him for the rest of everything and beyond.

For he did not know then that was the last kiss you and him would share.

Another flash, and Muzan was no longer greeted with a visage of the past. Much to his dismay, the demon was now greeted with the sight of his office, with a smiling Enmu creepily watching him from across his desk.

What a fucking freakshow.

Taking in a breath of air through his nose, Muzan sat up tall in his chair again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with this thumb and pointer finger.

You were gone again. You were again nothing up a memory, a whisper of a time from the past.

Muzan could hardly bare it.

He had felt you, held you near him.

And just as fast as you came back, you were gone again.

This was a pain almost too hard to bear.

How long was he asleep for? Muzan really didn't care how long it was.

No amount of time with you was enough.

"Did you have the pleasant dream you wished for, Master?" Enmu asked the demon king. The lesser moon was lucky Muzan was in a somewhat good mood that day.

"Yes." Muzan replied simply, closing his eyes to rub them with his thumb, "Excellent work."

Enmu's smile widened at this, his cheeks turning pink again.

"Why, thank you, Master." He responded, his excitement prevalent in his voice.

Enmu really was a special one.

After composing himself again, Muzan scooted his chair forward up to his desk, fixing his gaze back onto his work sprawled out below.

Muzan just wanted to be alone again after that. He had been alone for years now, but he wanted Enmu out of the room. Although he could have easily ordered it to be so, he again did not want to show any weakness to the lower moon.

Christ on a bike. Muzan was so fucking stubborn.

He remembered all the times you nagged him for it.

Oh, what he would give to have you nag him one last time.

After a long bout of silence, the lesser demon decided to speak up again. He turned his head over his shoulder again to Muzan, trying to sound as naieve and innocent as possible.

"Master," Enmu said, "Where is she now?"

Muzan stopped his movements and glared up at Enmu with a venomous glare. How dare he even refer to you. You were so far above him, how dare Enmu even think to invoke your name.

Though Muzan wanted to kill the other demon right on the spot, he decided against it. He still wanted to see how Enmu would do on his mission. Also, Muzan had to admit that he did feel lighter and more generous after his dream with you. And he supposed it was fair that Enmu had his questions.

Feeling nice, Muzan decided to entertain Enmu's question.

Shifting his gaze back to the papers below, Muzan replied.

"Gone." he said, "The night she asked about a family was the last night I saw her alive. The next day, a group of slayers found her and our house. They knew who she was and that she was human, but killed her anyway. All in attempt to get to me. I found her in a pool of her own blood, limp and cold. The slayers died that same night."

Enmu's smile faded at this, his face taking on a look of shock. Closing his lips into a tight line, Enmu looked away, out of a quiet unconscious respect. Everything made so much more sense to Enmu now. Why the demon king was the way he was, his hatred for slayers, his cold-hearted, murderous nature.

It all clicked into place.

"I... I am sorry for your loss, Master." He said, his voice quieter than normal, "She seemed like a lovely woman."

Muzan peered up at the back of Enmu's head. Through his thick, black lashes.

"Yes..." Muzan said.

"She truly was."

#demon slayer #kny fanfic #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kimestsu no yaiba #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan kibutsuji x reader

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peakyblindersxx · 4 years ago

Text

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby fluff #john shelby series #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

Text

Personal Google

4 times Spencer knows the answer, and the 1 time he doesn’t.

Summary: Spencer is your own personal Google. He always knows the answer to anything you ask him.

Warnings: Pining, slow burn-ish (?), reader and Spencer are both idiots who aren’t acknowledging their feelings for each other. Some mentions of a case and case-typical violence. No references to the gender of the reader!

Word count: 2k (this ran away from me)

A/N: Part two to this is here!

Requests: open!!

“Hey Spence?” You call, barely looking up from your phone as you scroll through Twitter, “What’s a hedgefund?”

“Are you reading about the GameStop stock?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

He clears his throat, and you look up at him, “Okay. A hedgefund is a way for accredited investors to invest in a way that minimises the risk to their own assets. Without getting too complicated, because it can get really convoluted, it’s basically just a way for rich people to get richer a lot of the time because a prerequisite for investing in the majority is having a high net income or a high net worth to begin with.”

You smile, “So basically rich people are getting screwed?”

“Something like that.”

“Good,” You respond, putting your phone away.

You swear you hear a little laugh escape his mouth as he turns back to the computer at his desk.

***

You’re sat on the jet, in your usual seat next to him, when everything starts to go pear-shaped. It jolts a little, sending you knocking into his side. You grimace.

“It’s just a little turbulence,” Hotch says, “Probably because of the storm coming from the East. We should be landing soon.”

Rationally, you realise there’s nothing to be afraid of. But it’s easier said than done to keep rational when the plane’s rattling like a pack of smarties and your head is bashing against Spencer’s bony shoulder every five seconds.

He senses your unease, tentatively reaching across to take hold of your hand. His instinct is to supply statistics about plane crashes but something in him tells him you won’t respond too well if he tells you the odds of getting in a small plane crash are higher than a regular commercial flight but still lower than the chances of being involved in a motor vehicle accident. Instead, he chooses a different tactic.

“It’ll be alright, we’ve been in the air for two hours and,” He squints at his watch, “Forty-three minutes. This flight’s two hours fifty-eight tops.”

You nod, “Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember this morning when you were telling me about the French dancing plague and we got interrupted by the call about the case?”

You don’t have to say anything more, he immediately launches into a spiel about France in 1615: the death of crops, how the people felt they were being spited by God, the whole thing. He gestures wildly with his free hand, but the hand that lies atop of yours doesn’t budge an inch. You rub small circles on it with your thumb, which goes unacknowledged. Privately, you’re a little disappointed. Privately, he’s afraid you’ll stop if he points it out.

***

It’s been a long and fruitless day. The local PD had been worse than useless, they were so reluctant to accept that anybody from their town could possibly have been responsible for what was going on that it felt like a constant battle to get anything done. You’d been out interviewing possible witnesses from the local bar. Well, trying to, you would have been a lot more successful if the Sheriff hadn’t constantly been under your feet, undermining your questions and generally resulting in making you look like an idiot.

Hotch had chewed him out in the end, relinquishing you from interview duty to help Spencer with the geographical profile back at the station. He’s scribbling away on the map while you slump in the chair, a little defeated.

“Hey Spence?”

“Hmm?” He hums in response, not taking his eyes off the section he’s just crossed out.

“How come you’re ruling out that side of town?”

He flips the whiteboard pen in his hands, returning its cap before turning around to you, “A lot of the area over there is industrial. I’ve been combing through to get a closer look, but it doesn’t look like our unsub would have the kind of privacy he needs. There are a lot of factories, granted, but they’re pretty much all occupied. He’s meticulous, I don’t think he’d take the risk of working in an environment where he couldn’t control anything and risking getting himself caught. And from what we know about him he certainly isn’t affluent enough to rent property on that side of town. Rent is almost three times as expensive there,” he gestures with his hands, tapping the lid of the pen on the area he means, “I think he’s more likely to be from the northmost part of town.”

You smile, “I don’t know how you do that.”

He opens his mouth to respond before seeing the softness in your eyes, realising you’re not asking for an explanation. You’re giving him a compliment. His chest feels a little warm.

***

You can’t sleep that night, despite how exhausting your day has been. You’d think the physical and mental exhertion would knock you out but instead you’re sat on your bed, idly flipping through TV channels. Not much is on except some old NCIS re-runs, and oddly enough you don’t feel like watching a crime show.

You could text Spencer. The thought appears in your head of its own accord, without your consent.

You could though.

10:12pm - You

You’d think after a day like today I’d be able to get some rest

10:13pm - Spencer

You can’t sleep?

10:13pm - You

No, sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep

10:14pm - Spencer

I can’t sleep either, don’t worry. Do you want to come over to my room? I have a documentary about Pearl Harbour I was going to watch

10:14pm - Spencer

Or we could do something else. Not sure if Pearl Harbour is more fun for you than struggling to fall asleep

10:15pm - You

A Pearl Harbour documentary sounds great

Thankfully you’d had the forethought to bring nice sleeping attire rather than your old ratty ones. You’d learnt your lesson before, when your presence had been required in the middle of the night and you’d had to scramble down to team meetings in pyjama bottoms that had a hole in the right thigh.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror, some anxiety fluttering in your stomach for some reason.

It’s odd. It’s hardly the first time you’ve been over to Spencer’s room for crying out loud, I mean he’s the person you’re closest to on the team and your best friend and your private yearning for him is mostly inconsequential. Mostly. Except you fix your hair and smooth down your top a little anyway.

He’s only three doors down and it’s easy enough to slip quietly into his room. He sits on the bed, two glasses of water resting on the bedside table, his laptop resting by his knees. He’s illuminated by the bedside lamp next to him, and his hair looks fluffy as hell. No doubt from him running his own hands through it in frustration today. He smiles at you, patting the space next to him.

You pad across and join him, “Hey Spence.”

“Hi.”

His laptop isn’t particularly loud, and the screen isn’t very big, so you end up sat quite close to him. The laptop rests on his lap. You hesitate before nuzzling in against him, feeling how his breath catches in his chest as your head rests against his on the bedframe.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He answers, a small content smile playing on his lips, “Yeah this is okay.”

***

You’re not sure when or how you fell asleep but you wake up with a start to the sound of pounding on the door. And you’re not in your own bed. You briefly acknowledge the warmth next to you before it’s gone, Spencer leaping out of bed to answer the door.

“We’ve been-” Emily stands in the doorway, the bedroom lamp that you must have neglected to turn off allowing her to catch a glimpse of your dazed face, “Reid, why is ____ in your room?”

Spencer opens his mouth, flustered and unsure of what to say, floundering between looking at you both for a moment before Emily rescues him. The digital clock obnoxiously blinks the time: 2:18am.

“Okay we’re definitely talking about this later but there’s another body, Hotch wants us all down at the station in 15.”

It occurs to you, as you rush embarassed from Spencer’s room, apologising to him at least five times on your way out, that the only thing standing between you and a million questions about your personal life is the focus on an unsub who you’ll hopefully catch today. You shrug your clothes over your head, replacing them with fresh ones and pulling on your shoes. The jet home is going to be fun.

—-

You were right to be hopeful about today. The unsub is tracked down and arrested by the time night comes around. His arrest is clean, no hostages and no shots fired. Really, in your line of work, it was the best possible outcome.

Hotch made the call that you’d spend another night here, since there was paperwork that’d need to be taken care of in the morning and some final loose ends that required wrapping up. You suspected some small part of it was because J.J wanted to ensure you made nice and left things on good terms with the local PD before you left, since there’d been a lot of headbutting throughout the case. Spencer had also been completely right about the geographical profile, the unsub had been working and killing from a rundown ramshackle house in the northmost suburb.

Speaking of Spencer, you’d barely acknowledged each other since this morning. Sure, you’d shared rooms together before, even beds when the occasion had called for it, but you’d never been so intimate before.

Maybe it was best for you both if you just ignored the whole thing entirely, carried on as normal. Yeah. Yeah that’s what you’d do.

You worried about the meaning of anything you said being lost over text so you headed to his room, knocking on his door. It brought a small smile to your face to think how you’d been on the other side of it the last time someone knocked.

He opens it, just slightly, before relaxing when he sees it’s you, “Hey.”

“Hi,” You step past him into the room, watching him close the door and take a step towards you.

He waits for you to speak.

“So. We never finished that documentary.”

He laughs, soft, “We didn’t.”

“Do you want to finish it now?”

“Uh…” He visibly pauses and you feel a small twinge in your chest. Maybe you’d made him uncomfortable, maybe you’d misread the whole thing, maybe you’d...

He interrupts your self-deprecating runaway train of thoughts with a simple, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you settle down to watch the film, his laptop situated firmly in the middle of the bed this time, you feel the gulf between you. Empty space where his leg rested against yours yesterday. Still, that was what he wanted, right? His own space. Not to talk about it.

You don’t notice because you’re watching the documentary, but Spencer has to stop himself from reaching his arm out for you when he stretches. You didn’t want to talk about it, obviously. Meaning you probably wished it hadn’t happened. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest at that thought, the hollow feeling it left. Thankfully it wasn’t too long before you spoke again.

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this historically accurate?”

And explaining the nuances of Japanese-American history is much easier for him.

#spencer reid fanfic #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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chasingpj · 4 years ago

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𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

"I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 4,931

warnings: none

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! this is part one of a self-insert series I'm working on. in this story, y/n is a child of hecate, and this storyline follows the books. the current timeline here is post sea of monsters and will continue through the Heroes of Olympus books. though it follows the original plot, y/n has her own storyline and quests. i tried to make y/n gender-neutral but as I continued to work on the timeline for this project, i had decided that this fic is for a fem reader. guys, this is really just me projecting my fantasy into fanfiction lol. i feel like this is a slow start?? and there is a lot of info dumped in this so bear with me. it'll get better and I'll be working to improve my writing as the series continues. I was on a writing hiatus for a really long time and I'm out of practice so this is my way to get back and hopefully, exceed the skills I had when I was a consistent writer. anyways, if you have any feedback, let me know! I'd love to hear what you think. as i get deeper into the series, i might ask for some suggestions on what to do with the fic. anyways, i'll stop rambling and i hope you like it!

Part One Part Two

You ignore the aching in your neck as your focus is fixed on the herbology book in front of you. You’ve been seated at your desk for Zeus knows how long reading and taking notes in your Book of Shadows, determined to finish reading it as fast as possible. Your half-brother, Alabaster, insisted that you need to memorize all the herbs and their properties before he can properly teach you how to use them in potions. Even though you understand its importance, you hated introductory work. You are itching to get to the real stuff, resulting in you glued to your chair, studying through the night as your cabin mates were fast asleep in their beds. But as determined as you are, Ambrose, your familiar, wasn’t much help. Ambrose whines as he rubs his head against your legs like a needy kitten, making it difficult to ignore him.

“What is it, Ambrose?” You whisper, sitting back in your chair in defeat. You take a second to massage the back of your sore neck before turning to face the translucent hound sitting attentively at your side. His tail sweeps the floor as it wags excitedly, and a short huff leaves his snout as if he was proud to have finally gotten your attention.

Your eyes meet his, racking your mind to figure out what Ambrose needs to tell you. At first, you thought he wanted to play, but you didn’t have time for that, so you decided to ignore him. Usually, after being ignored for a while, Ambrose will give up, finding something else to occupy him. But tonight, he was particularly persistent, and he’s only like this when he needs to tell you something.

Before you can ask what he wanted again, Ambrose gets up from his seated position, running over to the small table that stands beside your bed. You furrow your eyebrows, the first thing you notice when you walk over are your crystals neatly placed in front of your spell books as usual. Seeing them made you suddenly remember what you had planned to do.

You had told Ambrose to remind you to charge your crystals and collect water from the lake since there is a full moon tonight and of course, Ambrose being your loyal companion, did exactly that. Before looking down at the hound, who now is breathing heavily, his tail somehow wagging faster than before, you smile to yourself.

“I told you to remind me earlier, didn’t I?” Ambrose snorts and runs around your feet enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but giggle at his excitement as you reached down to pat his head. “Good boy. What would I do without you?” You continue to praise him, grabbing a black pouch and carefully placing the crystals in it. You put your index finger to your lips, signaling Ambrose to be a little quieter despite his excitement. If he accidentally wakes anyone up, then you definitely weren’t going to be able to fulfill your plans.

You bite your bottom lip as you tiptoe out of the aisle between the bunks. You look around the notoriously cramped Hermes Cabin to make sure your assumption that everyone was asleep by now was correct. It wasn’t hard to make out the faces of your cabin mates since seeing clearly in the dark was one of your many gifts, so you carefully walked along the bunks, being as quiet as you could. You are especially cautious as you approach the front where your cabin leaders, the Stoll brothers, slept. You study them for a second, knowing for sure Travis was asleep since he was snoring and loudly at that. Before you can check if Connor is asleep, you hear him shifting in his bed. You stand frozen in your spot, hesitantly looking over and you were expecting to be met with the usual mischievous grin. Instead, his back was towards you now. You have a feeling in your gut that he wasn't asleep, the timing of his moving was much too convenient. You really didn't want to wait any longer though so you decide that you might as well leave before he could stop you.

You turn on your heels, walking over to the window before you push it open. You cringe softly as the hinges creak, and you look back at the cabin to double-check if anyone has woken up from the sound. You sigh in relief when you see no one has moved, and you turn back to the window, carefully crawling out of it. This wasn’t unusual for you. You’ve done this so many times that using windows as a mode of exiting and entering a room was as natural to you as walking in and out of a door, and soon you were hopping down onto the grass. Your back is pressed against the cabin as you walk the side of it. You look up at the trees and the sky, eyes scoping around for any harpies hanging around. After deeming that you were alone, you begin making your way to the lake, Ambrose walking by your side attentively and cautiously to make sure you are safe.

The night was clear; the stars and especially the moon shone brightly in the sky. You sigh softly, taking in the stillness of the night, admiring the glistening lake reflecting the full moon placed above it. You’ve always enjoyed how quiet and cool the nights were, preferring it more than the daytime.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t avoid it as much as you wish to. Most of your siblings can agree with you that they’d prefer to sleep in most days so that they can study and practice their magic at night. However, that wasn’t the schedule of the Hermes Cabin. It was pretty impossible to sleep in since the mornings were always hectic. In fact, the cabin was just hectic, period. There was always something going on, whether it was an elaborate prank or the guys arguing over who gets to shower first after coming back from training which usually resulted in an intense game of rock, paper, scissors. You can’t say that you didn’t like it; at least you were entertained.

You also always had someone to talk to, and because there were often new campers coming in and out of there, you have easily familiarized yourself with a lot of the kids at camp. However, like your mother, you did enjoy and yearn for the occasional periods of solitude. As fun as living with the Hermes kids was, you and your siblings did find yourselves getting a little irritable at their shenanigans. It was at those times, you did wish that your mother, Hecate, had a designated cabin.

You and your siblings had always said if they ever got a cabin of their own, they would make sure everyone had separate rooms and would have designated spaces to socialize and practice their magic so that it was quiet for the most part. Alabaster, especially, was really passionate about this topic. He complained how it didn’t make sense that your mother wasn't recognized since you and your siblings were a powerful little bunch. You all needed a space to practice your magic and practice preferably at night since you were the most powerful at that time of day; you were also less prone to making mistakes in your spell casting at night. You agreed with him and would get upset about it sometimes, but the Hermes Cabin was a place you considered to be a second home. The communal feel of the space was something you enjoyed, it was one of the few places where you felt fully accepted which was rare to find being a demi-god with abilities like yours. In return to the Hermes Cabin welcoming you with open arms, you accept the inconveniently loud environment as an admirable quirk and went on with your days.

Then to compensate for the lack of silence and solitude, you would often stay up late, taking advantage of the quiet to focus on your studies. Even if you had to sacrifice the amount of sleep you got, you felt like it was worth it.

It doesn’t take you long to arrive at the dock, sitting down close to the end with your legs folded under you. You first collect lake water in a jar before carefully taking out the pouch's crystals. Assuming you had only a few left in the pouch after laying most of them on the dock, you tilt it with your hand under it, only for the crystals to come out all at once. You fumble, hands trying to bring them to your chest, but with your luck, one of your crystals falls right into the water with a plop.

“Dammit!” You peer over the edge and groan, Ambrose whining at your misfortune as he stands beside you. You look down at the water, noticing Ambrose’s and your dim reflection in it. There was no way you could get that crystal now because you didn't know how to swim, and you consider that maybe tomorrow you can convince your twin brother, Atticus, to look for it or Alabaster if Atticus refused, which you were expecting him to.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat, jumping back as a head of dark hair abruptly pops up from right where you were staring. Ambrose barks loudly next to you, equally as startled, and your eyes widen. You stand up hastily at the realization that Ambrose's loud barks in the dead of night will catch the attention of the harpies, and right now, that was more important to you than the mysterious person that just sprouted up in the water like a zombie coming out of a grave.

“Shush! Ambrose, quiet!” Your frantic command was enough to make him stop with a whine, and you sigh shakily, turning towards the camp to check if there were any harpies.

“I think you dropped something.” Ambrose moves in front of you protectively, a low growl coming from his chest as he cautiously studies the person. You look back where the voice came from and to your surprise and your relief, you find that the mysterious person in the lake was no other than Percy Jackson. You never had a conversation with him before, but you definitely knew about him. It was kind of hard not to know who he is since he’s been the talk of the camp since he’s arrived. Your thoughts about him weren’t any different from most of the camp. You’ve seen him fight and use his powers during capture the flag, and you were just as impressed as everyone else. You did have to admit that you found him to be pretty cute too. His eyes were gorgeous, clear, and bright like a shallow, cyanic sea. You also found it adorable how his hair always looked a little disheveled.

Your (e/c) eyes met Percy’s green ones before looking at your rose quartz in his hand. You smile sheepishly, noticing the amused look on his face.

“Ah, yeah, that’s mine.” You walk over to him, but as you get closer, so does Ambrose, and his growls get louder. "Ambrose, heel. It's okay," you say softly, and he stops in his place, but his stance is still at alert, his eyes watching Percy cautiously. You pat Ambrose's head before walking past him and over to Percy. "Thanks," you smile, taking your rose quartz from his hand.

"No problem… I don't think your ghost dog likes me," Percy jokes, moving to look past your legs at Ambrose, who’s standing tall on your left side.

"Yeah, well, you kinda scared the crap out of us," you point out, amused. You take in Percy's goofy smile as he pulls himself up from the water, and you notice that he’s completely dry as he settles on the edge before turning his body to look at you.

“It’s y/n, right?” He asks, and you nod, figuring he’s probably heard about you in passing from Connor and Travis since he was friends with them too. “What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you retort playfully, making him smile. You move to sit down where you were standing. You spread the crystals neatly on the wood, making a mental note to get them before you go to bed.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came out here to hang out, but then a hippocampus swam up. One of its friends got stuck in a fisher's net not too far from here, so I went to help," he explains, and you nod. "I told you my excuse, so what's yours?"

You hum, "It's a full moon out tonight, so I thought I should take my crystals out. I also needed moon water for a potion, so I collected some for that," you point over at the big mason jar full of lake water. "It’s not as cool as your excuse,” you say playfully.

A short laugh comes from Percy, and when you look up from your crystals, you notice he was looking at Ambrose again, who was still in his tense stance. Ambrose was especially protective of you and Atticus, and it wasn’t unusual for him to be cautious of the new people you come across. You assumed that Ambrose was particularly tense with Percy since he had successfully caught you both by surprise.

"Ambrose, relax.” You pat the top of his head to soothe him. "Lay down." Ambrose whines, licking your hand affectionately for a little, and you can tell he was still uneasy about the other. He was hesitant, but he follows your command anyway, laying down with his head on your lap.

"You can touch him?" Percy asks, his eyes wide and curious as he watches you pet Ambrose.

"Yeah, I can touch ghosts in general. My mother is Hecate, goddess of necromancy, along with magic, the night and the moon," you tell him. "This is Ambrose. My mother gifted him to me to be my familiar, kinda like a guardian." You look down at the hound, smiling softly as you scratch behind his ear softly.

Ambrose is a burly Molossian Hound who lived in the time of Alexander The Great. From what your father told you, his breed was well valued in Ancient Greek and Roman times and was often used in war. It is easy to understand why the breed was used in war. Ambrose is huge and muscular, about 6 feet tall when he stands on his hind legs, and he weighs around 200 pounds. At first, Ambrose can come off as a little intimidating. You remember how your siblings had avoided him when you first arrived at camp before they realized that he was the clearest definition of a gentle giant. Even though he was trained to fight when he was alive, he was still as gentle as a well-trained house dog unless he was given a reason not to be.

"When did you get him?" Percy asks, his eyes focusing on Ambrose’s translucent body that looked like it is made up of this gray swirling vapor. He couldn’t exactly wrap his head around how Ambrose’s head was comfortably propped up on your thigh.

"We met on the night I was on my way to Camp so about 2 years ago. Without him, my brother and I probably would have never made it to the borders.” You look up at Percy, meeting his eyes again; you watch as his face softens as he shifts to lean back on his hand.

"Really?" You hum and nod, ready to drop the conversation there, thinking you shouldn’t bore him with the details. You didn’t really like talking about it much, but the way he was looking at you made you feel like he was inviting you to continue talking.

"We got separated from our father at the gas station a couple of miles away from here. He went inside the convenience store to get us snacks, and while he was in there, a cyclops had found us, tried to grab us out of his car. We jumped out and ran into the woods nearby," you explain as you look out at the dark horizon.

You remember the sound of your father yelling after you and Atticus and how it broke your heart hearing, for the first time, such despair in his voice. You knew your dad didn’t want to bring you guys to camp, but he knew it was in Atticus’s and your best interest to come here and be with other people like you guys.

When you and Atticus started developing your powers, your father had simply told you guys that you were special and to refrain from using your telekinesis anywhere else but home. He didn’t say anything more until one night, you and Atticus had gotten in a screaming match about a reason you don’t even remember. However, in your screaming match, the both of you were so angry that a green aura had formed around you both, and books, magazines, even cutlery were being flown across the room because of the sheer energy you were admitting as a unit. It was then your father had decided to take you and Atticus to the camp to control and learn about your powers before you guys destroyed the house over a dumb argument like who’s turn is it to have the TV remote.

"We were more concerned about the monster hurting our dad, so we decided on a whim to run in the forest. My brother and I have telekinesis powers, and I aimed well enough to send a rock right at the cyclops eye. We lost him a little after that, but we didn't know where we were. We made too many twists and turns; we had no idea what direction we came from. And then, this buddy appeared out of nowhere from a distance. I saw him glowing from far away and couldn’t make out what he was, but I felt that I had to follow him. So we did, and he got us to camp with no detours for any other monsters. He's been with me ever since," you say, and a low whine comes from Ambrose’s mouth as he nuzzles the side of his face on your thigh contentedly.

Percy nods, and he huffs softly, "You guys got lucky. How old were you and your brother when you got to camp?"

"12, we're twins. We actually got here a couple of weeks after you did,” you mention. You watch Percy’s mouth curve into a half-smirk.

“Wow," he says, amused, and shakes his head. “So you have a twin and a dead dog, no fair," he jokes. You giggle, rolling your eyes playfully,

"Oh please, and you have crazy water powers. You’re completely dry after swimming! I think that's pretty envy-worthy."

"Hey-,” he shrugs, taking a second as if to form a protest. “I guess you're right,” he admits and laughs. You laugh with him, opening your mouth to say something else but unfortunately, you were interrupted by a screech echoing in the distance.

Both you and Percy stand up quickly, trying to figure out which direction it came from. “The harpies,” you both mutter in unison. You bend down to grab your things, and you look at Ambrose.

"Go distract them, bud," you tell him, and Ambrose jumps up to his feet, and you watch as he runs away, barking to get their attention. Just then, you see the wings of the Harpies coming up from the trees of the forest. You turn to Percy, grabbing his hand quick,

“Incantare: Transpectus!" You exclaim confidently, closing your eyes to envision you and Percy becoming transparent on the dock. You've never tried doing this spell before, but you've gotten better at visualizing and setting intentions, so you had some hope in yourself. You open your eyes, not feeling any different, and you hoped that you just didn't make a fool of yourself in front of Percy. But when you look down at your hand hesitantly and notice it was hard to make out since you were see-through like glass, you sigh in relief. You smile to yourself, more than satisfied that you were able to pull that off.

"Woah, are we invisible?" You look over at Percy, able to see him just fine since he was under the spell with you. Percy looks down at himself, eyes widened as he processes he can’t see his body anymore. You observe him for a second, finding it cute how he looked surprised and obviously entertained at the fact that he was completely see-through. You feel yourself growing a little flustered, trying not to focus too much on the fact that you were holding hands with him.

"Something like that. C'mon, it won’t last too long," you whisper, and your grip around his hand tightens as you guys begin running to his cabin. You hear the harpies screeching in frustration as they swoop down to try and grab Ambrose, only for their claws to go right through him. While the harpies were growing more annoyed, Ambrose, on the other hand, was having way too much fun, running in circles and barking at them as if he’s teasing.

"Man, I wish I had a ghost dog," you hear Percy mutter behind you as you arrive at the steps of his cabin.

"Yeah, Ambrose is pretty great," you admit, watching him play with the harpies before shifting your gaze over to Percy. "Thanks for getting the crystal for me." As much as you wanted to stay talking to him, you knew you couldn't stay too long. You were still eager to finish studying, and Ambrose can only hold off the harpies for so long.

"It was no problem. It was on my way up anyways," he shrugs, and you smile, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You look down, the two of you still holding hands even though the spell wore off already. You awkwardly let go of his hand, shifting on your feet.

"Well, I'll see you around," you say sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah, I'll see you.” His hand comes up in an awkward wave. You nod, returning the wave. Your eyes meet Percy’s green ones one more time before turning on your heels and walking down the steps of his cabin. You notice that Ambrose is now long gone into the forest, taking the harpies with him to give you time to rush to the other side where your cabin is.

As you hurry back to your cabin, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you replayed the interaction you just had with Percy, and you couldn't help but wonder when would be the next time you could talk to him.

You carefully hoist yourself up, climb back into the cabin through the window, sighing softly once you get in. You slowly close the window, your face scrunching at the creaking sound, but you successfully get it closed before turning around, only to be faced with Connor Stoll standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest. You gasp loudly, almost dropping the mason jar in your hand, being startled for the second time tonight.

“Oh, look who’s back,” he says, his lips pulled in his usual mischievous smirk, his right eyebrow raised as if he's suspicious of you. You shift, giggling nervously under his graze,

"Hey, Con.” Shit. You knew he wasn’t asleep, and a part of you wasn’t surprised that he had caught you sneaking out again. You weren’t too worried since Connor wasn’t one to be strict or easily angered, neither was Travis, but you can understand if he did get a little upset with you since the cabin could also get in trouble, and he worried about you getting hurt.

"You leave so often, I'm starting to think you're seeing someone," he teases, and you furrow your eyebrows, not really sure what he was trying to get at.

"I'm not seeing anyone. You know what I do when I sneak out," you tell him, putting your hand out to show him the jar full of water. After being caught the first couple of times, you had explained to Connor why you occasionally needed to head out at night. He was understanding of your reasons, telling you to try and not sneak out as often. When he did catch you, he always kept your outings secret. It came with a price, though. You were sometimes stuck doing extra chores, especially anything that had to do with cleaning, since he hated doing anything that had to do with mopping or sweeping.

"So that wasn't you and Percy on the dock?" Your eyes widen, and you feel your face get hot again. You shake your head, stumbling over your words for a second.

"Uh… n- that was a coincidence!" You hear him snort, laughing quietly as if he didn't believe you. Even though he couldn't see your facial expression very well in this lighting, he can still tell how flustered you were at his sudden question.

"Yeah, sure," he says sarcastically, and he hums, "Anyways, what are you going to do for me so that I don't tell on you?" He asks, and your mouth drops open. Usually, he wasn't so forward, and he never threatened to tell on you. "I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

You gasp, "Connor, are you blackmailing me right now?" You narrow your eyes at him, and he shrugs,

"I guess you can say I am." You shake your head, walking over to your desk to put down your moon water before turning toward him and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"... what do you want?" You ask, expecting him to make you take up one of his chores. But from the way he was smiling at you, you can tell that there was something more he wanted, and you were beginning to worry.

"Help me turn the Ares Cabin into bunnies," he says, and you shake your head frantically,

"No way! Clarisse will kill me," you whisper. Connor smiles,

"No, she won't. She can't kill you if she's a bunny," he points out, and your face falls flat,

"They're not gonna stay bunnies forever," you say, and you fiddle with your fingers nervously at the idea of the outrage you'd get from the Ares Cabin after shifting back from being bunnies. "I don't know, Con. I don't even know if I can turn all of them into bunnies at once."

Connor waves his hand at you, dismissing your concern. "I don't care for the logistics now. We can work on that later, but you have to agree to at least help me," he says. "Or I'm telling everyone I saw you smooching Percy on the dock."

"What!? We didn't even kiss. We talked for like 5 minutes!" You whisper-yell, your reactions much too entertaining for him, and he was having a hard time holding in his laugh.

"Your decision, y/n."

You sigh, throwing your head back. You look at the ceiling for a second as you consider your two choices. And you decide that getting your head potentially put on a stick by Clarisse was better than the burning embarrassment of Percy thinking you're spreading rumors about kissing him. "Fine, whatever. I'll help you do the bunny thing," you mumble, your shoulders slouched.

Connor nods with a proud smile on his face for trapping you into helping him. "Good choice. I will be going back to sleep now. Good night… again," he announces, turning on his heels and walking over to his bed. You frown a little as you walk back to your desk to study. Plopping down onto your chair, you decide that you’ll worry about Connor’s little plan later so you can focus on your studying. After a while, Ambrose comes trotting in, joining you by the desk as usual. You smile at him, praising the other for distracting the harpies for you before he lays down, his head laying on your foot.

As you study, you find that you couldn’t help your mind drifting back to Percy once and a while. You deem that there was no way that you could have a crush on him since you guys have only spoken once. In the midst of your internal debate to decide what you felt for him, you suddenly remember the crystal that was retrieved for you. You remember how Percy presented it to you, holding it out for you with his fingertips. It was your rose quartz. What a coincidence. You smile, rolling your eyes as you tell yourself that you’re thinking too much into it. You look over, noticing the dim illuminating light of the beginning sunrise shining through the curtains. You sigh, deciding that you should probably get to sleep and take advantage of the maybe, four hours of sleep you’ll get tonight. You close your herbology book before making your way to your bed, and with a soft sigh, you retreat under the covers, and finally, you surrender to your drowsiness.

masterlist

#percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #connor stoll #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #slow burn #friends to lovers #connor stoll x reader #percy jackson oneshot #pjo #my writing

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drarrily-we-row-along · 4 years ago

Text

Day 25: Hiraeth

Hiraeth (Welch): A kind of homesickness which is a combination of the homesickness, longing, nostalgia, and yearning, for a home that you cannot return to, no longer exists, or maybe never was.

Harry hated cleaning Grimmauld. And it always seemed that no matter how much cleaning he did, more junk (half of it cursed) appeared to replace it.

He forced himself to set aside two hours every Saturday morning, someday this house would be worth living in and having guests in.

This particular morning, Harry was working in the hideous study, cleaning out the desk and thinking that he really ought to tear out the carpet and take down the wall paper, when he accidentally knocked over a small bust of Merlin only knew which Black. A heartbeat after the bust was knocked over, a panel on the wall scraped open.

That was interesting.

With a bit of caution, which was warranted given how many things had attempted to kill and maim him in this house, Harry made his way over and peeked inside of what appeared to be a cupboard of some sort. Inside was a pensive with a shelf above with memories floating in vials. Many weren't labeled at all but there were some that were labeled in Sirius' familiar script.

One sitting right in the front, as though it had been placed there for him, was labeled Harry. There were several memories swirling together in this one and Harry found himself reaching out and pouring it into the pensive without really thinking about it.

A moment later he plunged his head into the pensive.

He looked around when he landed and saw that he was standing in his parents' home in Godric's Hollow. His mum was sitting on the couch with her feet propped on the coffee table rubbing at the side of her very pregnant belly.

Sirius was knelt on the floor next to her, rubbing his hand over the other side, "And I am going to be your favorite uncle," he promised. "I'm the cool one, I'll teach you how to ride my motorbike and help you with your boy trouble."

"His boy trouble?" his mum asked, obviously amused.

"Well, I can't very well help him with his girl trouble."

(Read more below the cut)

His mum laughed and brushed her fingers through Sirius' hair. "I suppose you're right about that.

"He's kicking," Sirius crowed, rubbing his thumb over his mum's belly. "Hi, Harry," he said. "It's your uncle Padfoot," he informed him, leaning closer and putting his mouth almost against her belly, "I love you and I cannot wait to meet you."

--------

The scene faded and was replaced by the next one.

"He's perfect, Prongs," Sirius murmured and Harry saw that he was standing in a hospital room. His mum was sitting up in a bed, looking tired but smiling so wide that Harry's mouth ached in sympathy. Sirius and his dad were standing close together, a baby held securely in Sirius' arms and his dad hovering near his head.

"Yeah," his dad whispered in reply, sounding genuinely choked up as he brushed his fingers over the baby's downy head.

"Look at his tiny fingers," Sirius said. "He's got your eyes, Lily," he added.

Harry watched as the baby wrapped Sirius forefinger in his little fist.

"Oh Godric," he murmured. "I'm gone on him," he said, looking up at James and Lily. "I love him more than life itself."

"We feel the same," his mum replied, smiling. "James, you should tell him."

His dad covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head as though he couldn't manage any words.

"Tell me what?"

"We want you to be Harry's Godfather," his mum said.

"Really?" Sirius whispered looking back and forth at his mum and dad like he could hardly believe they were serious.

"Yeah," his dad said, patting his shoulder, "Yeah, of course."

Sirius looked down at the baby in his arms and Harry watched a tear track down his cheek, "You hear that, Harry?" he murmured. "I'm your Godfather. I'll never let anything bad happen to you," he promised.

-------

Godric's Hollow came back into view and Sirius was sitting on the couch, his arm around Remus' shoulders while Remus fed Harry a bottle.

"You're just a little angel, aren't you?" Remus cooed at him. "Just the most perfect, beautiful baby anyone has ever seen."

The baby kicked his feet.

"We'll teach you how to get up to mischief," Sirius promised. "Don't you worry. You'll get to inherit everything we've learned, you're going to make the best prankster imaginable."

Remus huffed, "But you'll be good to Minerva, won't you? She had more than enough trouble with your dad and uncles."

The baby finished the bottle and Remus sat him up, holding him over his shoulder as he lightly patted the baby's back. "I know things are a little scary right now," Remus murmured and Harry for the first time wondered where his parents were, if they were on a mission for the order at the moment, "But everything's going to be okay. You'll see."

Sirius rubbed Remus' neck soothingly, "Everything's going to be okay," he repeated but his face looked as weary and worn as Remus' did.

--------

"Come on, Harry! You can do it!" Sirius cheered and Harry shaded his eyes to see the back garden better. Sirius was squatted a few feet away from his dad who was steadying the baby as he apparently thought about walking. "Come on," Sirius said again, holding out his arms.

With a little giggle, the baby started to toddle unsteadily across the distance to Sirius. Sirius caught him and scooped him up in his arms, swinging him as he stood before pulling him in to smother him with kisses.

The baby giggled and grabbed at Sirius sunglasses, pulling them off his face.

"Ah, here, allow me," Sirius said, as he put them on the baby instead with a big smile. "Already developing better taste than your dad, I see."

"Oy," his dad called from where he stood with his arm around his mum's waist, stealing her glass of iced tea.

"I can't believe how big you've grown," Sirius murmured.

"Us either," his mum replied. "It's all gone so quickly. At this rate we'll be watching him head off to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"We'll all be there," Sirius promised, pressing a kiss to the baby's chubby cheek.

--------

The baby was a bit older in the next memory, and Harry knew there wasn't much longer left before the inevitable.

"I don't know how to do this," Sirius said, he was holding the baby in his arms, swaying back and forth, and Harry could hear the unshed tears in his voice.

"Be our secret keeper," his dad insisted. "Sirius we trust you with our lives, we trust you more than anyone."

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "Dumbledore said it himself, they'll know it's me."

"Then stay here," Lily pleaded. "Just stay with us. Help us keep Harry safe."

"I would," Sirius said, "You know I would if I could. The Order won't allow it, they need more people to be able to go out on missions."

His dad nodded, scuffing the toe of his trainer over the carpet and it struck Harry how young they were. Harry was older now than his parents had lived to be.

"How am I supposed to say goodbye?" Sirius asked, pressing his forehead into the baby's dark curls.

"It's not goodbye," his mum said fiercely. "We can't think like that. It's just for a little while. It's just a see you later."

Sirius nodded and pressed a long kiss to the baby's forehead, "See you later, love," he murmured. "I'll miss you every second."

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

Harry was snapped out of the pensive and he stood still for a long moment, in what must have been shock, before he realized that he was crying. It took another second to realize that his entire body was shaking as he was overcome with a sense of grief that he thought he'd long since buried.

He was overwhelmed by the longing to have a home, to have a place where people loved him and cared about him, a home were people wanted to protect him and be sure he was safe. It was a longing that he'd felt from the core of his being for as long as he could remember. And in these memories he'd had that.

He'd had so many people who loved him, so many people desperate to keep him safe, desperate to watch him grow up, and he'd lost it before he'd ever really known it.

The injustice, the hurt, the loneliness, and every moment that he'd ever desperately wished to be loved welled up inside of him at once and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. It was like he was being pounded by waves in the ocean and he could make it up for air.

Harry couldn't stay here, he pulled out his wand and apparated.

He'd intended to go to Ron and Hermione's, or maybe even the Weasley's but that was not where he ended up. No, Harry ended up in the front yard at his auror partner's house, sobbing and gasping for air.

"What the-" he heard and looked over to see that Draco was out working in his Garden, "Potter? What-" he started as he got closer. "Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head but couldn't manage to get any words out.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head again, "I didn't mean-"

"Alright," Draco said softly, wrapping a protective arm around him before Harry could even finish his sentence, "Come on. Come inside."

Harry could only nod, trying to make his feet move in spite of their numbness.

"You're shaking," Draco murmured as he guided him inside of the cozy cottage, all full of sunlight and fresh air. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, voice still raw.

Draco nodded, "Let's have some tea, yes?" he asked, guiding Harry into the sunny yellow kitchen. "Here," he said, pulling out a chair and settling Harry into it before moving to prepare tea.

Harry took the few moments of relative privacy to try to get himself under control, to try to reign in all of the feelings. He was certain that he would feel embarrassed about this later; this wasn't a great look for someone you were a little bit in love with to see.

By the time Draco turned around and brought the mugs of tea over, his breathing had even out a bit and he wasn't sobbing anymore. Draco set a cup of tea in front of him, "Here you go," he murmured before sitting down in the chair next to Harry instead of across from him.

"Thank you," Harry managed as he took a sip of tea made just the way that he liked it.

"Don't mention it," he said, he reached over and rubbed soothing circles on the center of Harry's back as Harry drank his tea. He didn't push or ask any questions, he was just quiet, just there with him as Harry's heart slowly came down to a normal pace and he finally managed to stop crying. "There we are," he said.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, feeling embarrassed and foolish and raw. "I didn't even mean to come here," he confessed.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Draco told him and for some reason, Harry believed him. "I've got some ginger biscuits in, if you'd like?"

"I shouldn't impose-"

"It's no imposition," Draco said, standing up and reaching for the cookie jar. He set them out, offering it to Harry before taking a couple himself.

Harry nibbled at his biscuit, not really sure what to say.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asked. "You don't have to, of course, but I can be quite a good listener."

They'd been partners for three years at this point, so Harry knew it was true that the other man was an excellent listener. After a moment debating where to start, Harry confessed, "I always felt like there was something wrong with me." He stared down at the biscuit in his hands for a moment, "When I was little," he swallowed and set down his half eaten biscuit. "My aunt and uncle didn't want me and they weren't shy about letting me know."

Draco frowned, "Then why did you live with them? Surely there were no shortage of wizarding families who-"

"I had to," Harry said. "In her death, my mother's magic protected me. It's why Voldemort couldn't kill me. Because my aunt Petunia shared my mother's blood, as long as I lived with them I was protected."

"Alright," Draco said, nodding once and apparently accepting that answer without any other questions, which Harry was grateful for.

"They didn't want me and they didn't love me," Harry continued, "and I just really wanted to be loved, you know?"

Draco nodded, "Yeah, of course," he said as though Harry was being totally reasonable right now.

"I always imagined that I'd had parents who loved me," he said. "Like I always imagined that Lily and James Potter were completely besotted with me; they literally died trying to protect me. And I've had it confirmed by people throughout my life in a casual sort of way."

Draco nodded again, "But you've just had it confirmed in a more tangible way?" he guessed.

Harry nodded and felt a tear slip down his cheek. "I found some of Sirius memories when I was cleaning today," he said.

"That's fascinating," Draco replied.

"Yes," Harry agreed, "And there was a vial with my name on it, so I poured them into the pensive and took a look." Draco waited patiently as Harry tried to calm himself enough to get the next words out. "They were all of me as a baby," he finally managed in a whisper. "Of him with me, of my mum and dad, and Remus. And they all-" he choked on the words. He could hardly get them out, "They all loved me so much," he managed.

Draco took his hand.

"And I can't even remember-" he couldn't manage another word before the waves of grief rolled through his soul once more.

"Oh, love," Draco murmured as he stood and moved to wrap his arms around Harry, holding him and letting him cry against his stomach.

"It's not fair," Harry finally managed.

"No, it's not," Draco agreed, one of his hands stroking through Harry's hair. "It's not fair at all."

When Harry finally got himself under control once more, Draco drew back and sat down in the chair beside him.

"Sorry," Harry said, feeling miserable, and drained, and exhausted.

"You've nothing to apologize for," Draco said as he took another biscuit.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I just thought that I'd stopped grieving this."

"Do we ever really stop grieving the people we love?"

"It's not just the people, though," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's that I had a home, I had a place where people loved me and cared about me. If I'd fallen and scraped a knee in that home, I would have had adults clambering over themselves to fix it. I would have been tucked in at night, and someone would have read me stories. I would have always had enough to eat and I would have had clothes that fit me and toys that weren't broken. There are a million things that could have been that I'll never know."

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly, "I can't imagine what that must feel like." He put his hand over Harry's, his thumb rubbing soothingly over Harry's knuckles.

Harry nodded once, trying very hard not to start crying again because three times felt like it might be a bit ridiculous for one day.

"There are people who love you now, though," Draco said gently. "And I know it doesn't change the past, and it doesn't make this hurt any less, but you have people who love you. And I'm sure that someday, you'll live with someone who loves you, someone who wants to protect you and comfort you when you're hurt, someone who wants to share their life with you."

Harry scoffed, "I have my friends but there's no one who would want that with me."

"There are loads of people who would want that with you," Draco said, rolling his eyes as if Harry was being ridiculous.

"Not people who actually know me," Harry argued. "Sure, there are people who want me because I'm Harry Potter but no one who wants me because I'm just Harry."

"That's not true," Draco replied.

"Name one person who wants that life with me because I'm just Harry and not the savior," he challenged. "One, single person and I will go out right now and move in with them. Tell me one name of someone who would want this," he said, gesturing at himself, "Who wants all of this mess, all of this baggage, and traum-"

"Me," Draco finally exploded. "I want that with you. I want to protect you and comfort you when you're hurt. I want to make you tea in the evening before bed and I want you to wake me up with coffee in the morning. I want to spend every moment with you, celebrating your successes and weeping with you about what makes you sad. I want that."

Harry blinked at him, a bit (alright, a lot) shocked.

"And I know that it's stupid and you don't want that with me, because, well," he shook his head. "There are a million reasons you shouldn't, but you said one person and I want you to know that it's more than possible for someone to know you and want that with you."

"You do?" Harry asked.

"Do you think I would have told you that I did if I didn't?"

Harry felt a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "I would like that with you, too."

"What?"

Harry shrugged one shoulder, "I've been a little in love with you for like a year," he confessed, feeling brave now that Draco had already told him how he felt.

Draco smiled a shy little smile at him, "Maybe we should go on a few dates before you move in, for appearance's sake," he joked.

He laughed, but then actually considered it, "Do you care about appearance's sake? We already know that we work together, we already know that we're good at spending time together," Harry replied. "I know more about you than I've ever known about anyone I've dated."

"Do you really want to move in with me? Already?"

Harry shrugged, "I mean, you've got a second bedroom, right? We wouldn't have to rush into anything. Just," he swallowed and he reached over and took Draco's hand, "Wouldn't it be nice to come home at night to someone who cares about you?"

"Yeah," the other man agreed with a smile, "Yes it would."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, feeling hopeful.

He nodded, "Yes, of course. Merlin, of course you can move in," he said with a laugh.

"I'd like very much to kiss you if you'd be amenable to that," Harry said.

"I'd like that, too," Draco said, with a breathless little smile.

Harry leaned across the corner of the table, cupped Draco's cheek in his palm, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

When he pulled back Draco's eyes were still closed and he murmured, "I'm going to need you to do that again."

Harry grinned and obliged him.

"Again," Draco breathed.

Harry leaned in and took Draco's bottom lip between his, sucking lightly before brushing his tongue over it. Draco let out a soft sigh and his fingers clenched in the fabric of Harry's t-shirt.

"Again," Draco whispered when Harry pulled back.

He smiled and let his finger's slide in Draco's hair, tilting his head slightly as he slotted their lips together. He slowly explored Draco's mouth and Draco explored his in turn, they kissed slowly, luxuriously. Hands brushed over necks, cheeks, shoulders, and backs as they carefully learned their way around each other.

Draco was the first to pull back this time and Harry's eyes fluttered open to look at him, his cheeks flushed and lips red. "You are so beautiful," Harry murmured.

He looked down at the table, smiling shyly, "We should start getting you moved in."

"I'd like nothing better," Harry replied with a big smile of his own.

And while moving in with Draco didn't give him back the home he'd lost, it did give him a place where he belonged. It gave him a place where he could receive the love he'd longed for and give all of the love he'd always wanted to. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't always easy, but it was home and Harry wouldn't have traded it for anything.

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

Thank you, @iamactuallya-cat for the prompt! I hope you enjoy it and that I didn't break your heart too much! <3

Day 24: Mafia Husband | Day 26: Broken Bone

#drarry #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #oof this one definitely got away from me #and had me crying #happy ending #day 25 #thank you for the prompt!

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emoprincey · 3 years ago

Note

for the ficlet prompts, analogical + 19? —iclaimedtobethebetterbard (can’t send asks from sideblog lol)

Thanks so much for the ask @iclaimedtobethebetterbard, I've been meaning to write some analogical for ages!

Pairing: Analogical

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Roman

Prompt: "In my defence, I really wanted to"

Word count: 986

Logan glanced up from his desk for the first time in hours as he heard a movement from the window. His candle had long since burnt to a stump, but he’d barely noticed the dimming light, engrossed in his work. The last rays of the evening sun were just dipping below the horizon, illuminating the figure swinging their legs over the windowledge.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You could have used the door.”

“In my defence,” Virgil gasped, clinging to – and badly crumpling – the curtain as if his life depended on it, though he was now far enough inside the room that he was in no danger of falling, “I really wanted to.”

Logan quickly stood up, and crossed the room to offer Virgil his arm. “Then, why didn’t you?”

“This place is crawling with guards. Like, more than usual,” Virgil muttered, gripping Logan’s forearm tightly to steady himself as he stumbled on the carpet.

“Virgil, are you alright?” Logan asked, quickly checking him over for any sign of injury.

“Yeah, just a little out of breath. Also, I really don’t like heights,” Virgil grimaced. “Logan, baby, I love you. But I’m never scaling a building for you again.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Logan said, sweeping his free hand through his hair in frustration. “I should have realised the festival would mean there were extra guards would be stationed around the castle. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you to come tonight if I’d known.”

Virgil let go of his arm, and turned to face him. With careful fingers, he smoothed Logan’s hair down into the neat style he liked. “It was worth it to see you.”

A soft smile broke across Logan’s face, and he pressed a small kiss to Virgil’s palm before taking his hand again and leading him over to the bed. “As sweet as you are, I won’t have you putting yourself in danger for my sake again.”

“Ooh, you’re taking me to your bed already?” Virgil teased, even as he gratefully sank into the comfortable blankets. Though Logan used one of the firmest mattresses available to him, Virgil had remarked several times that his bed was far softer than Virgil’s own – Logan supposed that was one of the perks of being a prince, always having access to the finest quality items.

Logan rolled his eyes as he sat down next to him. “Oh hush, you seem tired so I’m letting you sit down.”

Virgil flopped backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. His dark hair splayed out over the duvet, his cheeks still flushed red from the strenuous climb.

Logan reached out and cupped his chin, running his thumb over Virgil’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Virgil opened his eyes to gaze up at Logan, his lips quirking into a bashful smile. “I’ve missed you, I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“We saw each other last week,” Logan reminded him, but he reached with his other hand to stroke Virgil’s hair. It really had been too long since he’d been able to touch those soft locks.

“Well, it feels like forever,” Virgil mumbled, tilting his head into Logan’s hand.

Logan suddenly felt very aware of how he was leaning over Virgil, on his bed, with his boyfriend staring so lovingly at him. Smirking slightly, he brushed his thumb over Virgil’s lips. “Then I suppose we should start making up for lost time.”

“Oh, heck yes,” Virgil muttered, grabbing Logan’s collar and pulling him down.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door.

Virgil’s nose scrunched in annoyance, before his eyes widened and he rolled away from Logan. “Shit.”

Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “It’s alright, just hide,” he whispered, before heading towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, and turned around, but Virgil was nowhere to be seen in the room. Wondering absently where he’d hidden, Logan opened the door.

Roman was leaning against the doorframe, wearing his red pyjamas but looking as energetic as ever. “Lo! I’m breaking into the kitchens with Remus; they’ve made loads of cakes for the festival so we’re going to sneak some. Wanna come?”

Logan carefully positioned himself in the doorway, blocking his brother’s view of the room. “I’m afraid I’m rather busy tonight, so I won’t have time.”

“Aw, but I thought you were getting your work done early tonight!” Roman protested.

“Well, something’s just… come up,” Logan said carefully.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself, nerd. More cake for me!”

“Be careful, don’t get caught,” Logan cautioned as Roman turned away.

He waited until his brother had retreated out of sight before he closed the door and turned back to the seemingly empty room.

“He’s gone,” Logan announced.

After a second, Virgil crawled out from under the bed. “I also don’t really like small spaces,” he grumbled.

Logan took Virgil’s hands as he stood. “That was just my brother, to be honest he probably wouldn’t mind if he found you in here.”

“Yeah, well, ‘probably’ isn’t a chance I want to take,” Virgil mumbled, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder.

“I know,” said Logan. While he knew both of his brothers would keep any secret he asked them to, and Roman particularly would never do anything to get in the way of love, Virgil had never met either of them aside from hearing Logan’s conversations with them outside his door. So, though he hated to keep something so important secret from them, he understood why Virgil felt so unsure about telling them.

“Anyway.” Virgil pulled back a little, taking the end of Logan’s tie. He loosely played with it between his fingers as he looked coyly at Logan through his lashes. “Weren’t we in the middle of something?”

Logan slid his arms over Virgil’s shoulders, pulling him closer to rest their foreheads together. “I believe we were.”

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #analogical #roman sanders #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ficlet #sanders sides fanfiction #i dont usually upload ficlets to ao3 so this isnt on there #royalty au

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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

Text

Recognition

@aspecarchivesweek Day Five: Something New

Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Season One

In which Jon and Martin are more alike than they thought.

Jon, in spite of himself, was starting to get used to Martin living in the Archives.

Offering him shelter had been almost instinctual- after listening to his story, who wouldn’t? Terrorized for almost two weeks and no one, no one noticed. There was also the matter of Jon’s guilt; Martin thought he needed to put himself in danger to be thorough, to please Jon, and now he was homeless. Jon owed him this at the very least. No matter how much Elias disapproved of the situation.

And despite the occasional trouser-less wanderings, his presence was...appreciated. Late nights in the Archives were wearing him down: the statements were getting to him, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched when he knew he was alone was putting him on edge. Now he can blame that feeling on Martin, who he’d caught staring on more than one occasion. Jon was not surprised; he hadn’t been looking or feeling his best, highly unprofessional with his three-day stubble and rumpled clothes. Not a good look.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the cup of tea when Martin joined him in his worst bouts of insomnia. He would sit on the tiny couch in his office, nursing his own mug and chattering away in a low tone that Jon was starting to find soothing instead of irritating. At first Jon clammed up, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion on his late night routine, but he soon found Martin didn’t expect him to respond or contribute, save the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. Sometimes Jon even craved the company, the familiar rhythms of Martin’s voice had become an unconscious comfort.

Tonight he was looking particularly exhausted, slumped in his seat with deep purple bags under his eyes. It sent an unwelcome pang through Jon’s chest; Martin should be sleeping, not entertaining him because he chose to stay late. He said as much.

“You don’t have to stay up on my part.”

“Hm?” Martin looked up from his lap, eyes finding Jon’s. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I like the company, to be honest. Unless…?”

“I don’t mind,” Jon assured him. Shockingly, he found he meant it. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt. Martin was always here, never leaving the Archives for more than an hour to get food or other necessities. He considered his next words. “That being said, I hope you know you’re allowed to have a life outside of the institute. I won’t judge if you want to have a...late night, or go out. It’s not my business what you do in your free time.”

Martin squinted his eyes as if he didn’t understand the words Jon spoke. Christ, do I really seem that out of touch? He knew he could be severe and well, a bit of an ass at times. The stress of the job got to him more than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want his assistants to think they should follow his example. He was Head Archivist, it fell on his shoulders to get this place in some semblance of order.

“I’m not really one for nights out, Jon,” Martin gave that familiar, self-deprecating laugh as he leaned back in his chair, an almost defeated-like set to his shoulders. “Well, besides the occasional drink with Tim and Sasha. And even those are sort of...I don’t know. They have their own thing going, and I feel like-”

“A bit of an outsider,” Jon provided before he could activate his ‘word to mouth’ filter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No,” Martin cut him off. “You’re right. Feels like I’m intruding.”

“Their banter can be overwhelming for the, ah, uninitiated.” On the few times he’d gone out with them in research, he’d felt more lonely than included. His awkward attempts at interjecting could make a conversation fall flat and he felt the need to accept every drink they handed in him the hopes of ‘loosening up.’ It never worked. They were never mean about it, no- or at least had the decency not to do it in his presence.

“Tell me about it.” Martin gave Jon a tiny little smirk that sent his heart stuttering in his chest for no particular reason. “I’m used to it, is all. This isn’t much of a change in routine, worms notwithstanding.”

“You, er, don’t have friends you can meet up with? Or maybe a partner?” Christ, why am I prying? What’s gotten into me? Jon felt curious, the man practically lived with him and yet he barely knew him.

The bark of laughter he got in reply was sudden and more than self-deprecating. “A partner? Are you kidding me?” Martin’s tone threw him off-balance; it was jaded, bitter, not like him at all.

“I didn’t mean to pry-”

“No, it’s- to be frank, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that.” Martin toyed with the mug in his hands, gazing into it like it held the answers he needed. “I’ve uh, tried to go on a few dates, meet people, that sort of thing. But they all expect something at the end and it just never feels right, I can’t explain it. Like there’s something missing. ”

Jon paused; the words and their sentiment were not unfamiliar to him. In fact, they resonated quite deeply, if Martin meant what Jon thought he did.

“It’s always been that way- I get a crush, I get to know them, they want to, y’know, and I-I don’t know what's wrong with me, but I can’t-” He cut himself off, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”

“It’s fine.” And it was. Martin looked at his hands and Jon recognized the sadness in the set of his shoulders, the lines etched in his face. He never thought the two of them would have much in common but that- that was a feeling Jon knew all too well. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”

Martin somehow managed to deflate even further, curling up as if trying to disappear. “Yeah, well- I think it’s time to admit that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”

The words hit Jon harder than expected. His fists tightened in his lap; he was sixteen again, wondering why the kiss he stole in a backroom felt more invasive than intimate. He was reading romance novels, understanding the words but not the feelings they were supposed to invoke. He was in college, being called a ‘tease’ or a ‘prude’ when he pulled away at the end of the night. And it was all accompanied by that deep, crushing fear that he’d never be enough.

No, you’re not that kid anymore.

And Martin shouldn’t have to be either.

“What’s that look for?”

He was drawn from his thoughts at Martin’s words, looking up from the scratched wood of his desk. “Sorry?”

“You’ve- you’ve got that look on your face, like you’re const- like you’re thinking really hard.”

Jon tried to think of a way to word his query delicately, but ‘delicacy’ had never been his strong suit, according to Georgie. Come to think of it, it was never hers either. “Have you ever considered that maybe- that you’re- you’re of the persuasion, that is-”

Martin shot him a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know I’m gay, Jon.”

“That’s not-” He sighed in frustration, fuming at his inability to communicate. “It’s okay to not feel that way. I never have. It’s normal.”

Martin blinked. “Sorry?”

“Asexuality, that is,” he said, finally managing to get out the words. “I was...in a similar position, I guess you could say. I didn’t feel the way you were ‘supposed’ to feel, like how all the books and TV shows describe it. Zero interest in anything sexual, and I thought...well, I thought something was wrong with me.” Jon felt a lump building in his throat, much to his horror. “But being able to put a name to it, an identity, it just felt right.” Martin’s face was unreadable- had he spoken out of turn? Did he have this all wrong?

He tried to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, that...feeling you described. But it doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for love. You...you shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself. You’ll find people who accept you. You’re not doomed to be lonely.” Now you’re just getting sentimental. Jon wasn’t one to dole out advice. He attempted to reign it in, get himself back on solid, familiar ground. “Maybe don’t take me for an example, though. I assure you, my isolation is very much self-imposed.”

Martin didn’t laugh. For a brief, panicky moment Jon thought he might have offended him, assumed the wrong thing, taken him out of context. But Martin met his eyes and Jon saw it- a look of dawning understanding, of comprehension and knowing and as much as Jon wanted to look away he couldn’t, because for the first time in a while he thought he might have said the right thing.

_____

He watched as Martin puttered about in the break room and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Martin hadn’t said much after their conversation, just thanked him in a choked voice and mumbled some excuse about going off to bed. Jon felt a bit conflicted- he now had time to ruminate on the conversation, pick it apart and wonder if he said anything wrong. He didn’t think he had, but his instincts had been proven wrong before.

Still, the thought of helping one person, sparing them from that crippling self-doubt and inadequacy, made any embarrassment or awkwardness well worth it. So here he was, shuffling his feet and holding a stack of paper, stapled and neat and in some cases, annotated. He cleared his throat and Martin turned away from the sink to face him.

“Oh, g-good morning, Jon.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, throwing it lightly on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”

He’d gotten two hours tops on the lumpy couch in his office. I need to invest in another cot. But he nodded anyway, walking forward and thrusting the pile out for Martin to take. Martin looked down at it quizzically but took it all the same, his face softening as he flipped through the pages.

“I, um- I printed out some articles that I thought might be of interest,” Jon rambled, feeling more awkward by the second. Was this too forward of me? “I’ve always found it easier to read on paper instead of the screen. For ah, concentration purposes. This- this isn’t required reading, or anything. Just might be helpful for, uh, figuring things out.”

Martin didn’t look up from the pages in his hand, instead zeroing in on them with a more intense stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with sincerity. “Thanks. It uh, it means a lot.”

“Yes,” Jon replied nonsensically, having no response to the emotion in Martin’s words. “You- you don’t need to talk to me about this, if you’d rather not. But I’m available if you’d like to.” He paused. Best to keep this somewhat professional- it was almost nine. “Outside of normal working hours, of course.”

“Of course,” Martin echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he finally met Jon’s eyes. He fought down the urge to smile back, instead muttering an excuse and turning to flee the room. I think I’ve filled my emotional quota for the week.

They don’t talk about it again, but a few days later a sticky note appears on his desk. Thanks- MB. Underneath the clear script he’d doodled a small flag- black, grey, white, and purple.

Jon puts it in his right-hand drawer next to an old polaroid of the Admiral, where it stays.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782318

#my writing #aspecarchives #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #cw aphobia and internalized aphobia #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #asexual jonathan sims #asexual martin blackwood #jon helps martin figure out he's ace

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kireijae · 4 years ago

Text

fearless — n.jm x reader

summary: you start a new job at your favourite local bookstore in seoul, however no one cared to inform you of the very pretty delivery guy who comes once a week.

genre: twist (ig?) on a bookstore!au, nonidol!au, fluff, angst, some crack too

warnings: swearing, detailed descriptions of food and eating, edited but not very well, i cried while writing it (if i forgot any or you want me to add specific ones, send an ask or message me!)

words: 6k

a.n: i worked so hard on this oh my goodness it was like giving birth dkfjdsfnsd. but really i love this one a lot so i hope you all enjoy it because i did my best to do the story i had in my head justice. also! let me know what you thought of it!

m.list

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The streets were quiet as you walked to the bookstore. Your bag was heavy in your hand and the sun danced around you, creating a blinding sort of glow on the pavement beneath your feet. You passed modern coffee shops and tall skyscrapers alike, buildings becoming more and more modern the longer you walked. All right angles, smooth surfaces and tinted windows glinting in the morning sun. It was only your second day on the job, but the route was already familiar to you, after having visited the bookstore quite often over the few years you’d been living in the city.

The tingling sounds of the old bell above the door fell around you like snowflakes as you stepped inside. It was quite literally like stepping into another realm. The floor was paved with stone tiles, little shoots of green peaking up between them here and there. The glass walls were lined with creepers and bookshelves alike and the glass roof allowed for the rays of sunlight to poke through the trees’ branches above.

Your eyes were pulled to Jisoo after her voice called to you from behind the cash register. “Good morning!” she said, eyes bright and her voice chipper.

She gave you a short list of things to do before opening the store while she did some admin in the back room. You rearranged bookshelves, tidied the seating area in the centre of the room, fluffing up the old embroidered cushions and wiping the coffee stain off the old wooden table. Once you heard the old clock near the counter sing its tune to signal the hour, you walked over to the door to flip the sign that hung there.

The day went by slowly, with barely any customers walking through the doors. You were half asleep at the register when you heard the bell at the door ring and you sat up from your crunched up position on the old stool. You blinked a few times in an attempt to wake yourself up completely, but your eyes widened when they focused on the person at the door.

You nearly thought it was a scene out of a drama. He walked in, and you swore you saw a curl of wind rush past him and fuss with his hair. Everything around him went out of focus — all your attention honed in on him. He had a white t-shirt on with a loose, light blue button up draped over his shoulders. His hair had to have been dyed, with the depth of the black that coated the strands, but it was still glimmering nonetheless.

You were paying attention to everything he did as he walked towards you, so luckily for you, you caught his words even through your haze.

“Hey, are you new here?” you finally noticed that he held a big cardboard box in his arms, fingers curled around the front, with the bottom of it resting on his forearms.

You opened your mouth to answer, but before any sort of sound could pour out, Jisoo came out from the back room. You were grateful for the interruption, seeing as you weren’t sure you could function correctly just then.

“This is only her second day, Jaemin,” she said, throwing him a knowing glance from the corner of her eye and taking the box from him, “don’t scare her off.”

“Now how would I ever scare someone off?” he leaned on the end of the counter, eyes following Jisoo’s form into the back room again.

The arm that wasn’t leaning on the dark wooden counter was hanging limply from his shoulder, his whole body conveying defeat from the forward curve of his spine to the slack of his jaw.

“You nearly knocked over an entire shelf of books on your first delivery here,” yelled Jisoo, still from the back room.

“I was nervous!” he straightened his posture, his hand now flat in front of you and his arm outstretched, “Anyways I better get going.”

He looked at you as he said it and you noticed the way the glint in his eyes seemed to dance and swirl around until he completely focused on you.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” you forced an arm out along with your words.

He took your hand gently and squeezed it, “I’m Jaemin. I don’t think I’ve ever shaken someone’s hand before. At least not someone my age.”

His tone seemed sincere, not teasing or judgemental — purely observational. He threw you a smile before walking out the door again. His light blue shirt billowing behind him when he opened the door.

“Don’t mind him,” Jisoo said, walking out into the store again with a pile of books in her hands, “he’s insanely annoying, but honestly it’s either him or the old guy who smells like mould. That smell hangs around even after he’s gone.”

Jaemin came back a few days later, no box in his arms this time and a black hoodie on his frame. He usually came once every week with a box in hand and his bright smile stretched out on his face. Some days he was there and gone within the blink of an eye and other days he hovered around the store, gabbering about anything and everything. Sometimes he came into the shop empty handed: no box full of books to deliver. Jisoo seemed surprised the first time it happened, pulling a face akin to one a girl looking at her brother who just barged into her room unannounced would wear. She said nothing of it, however, so neither did you.

One night at 9pm when you were left alone to close the store, he came rushing down the road in his company van and stumbled out onto the concrete. His hair was already messed up before the wind hit it, most likely from his running his hands through it as he so often did.

‘How does it still look so soft?’

“Please tell me I’m not too late?” he said when he was close enough to not have to yell over the wind.

“Hm?” you widened your eyes and leaned your head forward, trying to get yourself to pay attention to his words instead of the glow of his skin under the streetlights.

“If I have to take another delivery back because I missed it Mr. Yoo might kill me,” he said, his eyes held a plea in them.

“Oh,” you turned back, fiddling for the key in your bag, “Sure let me just open up again.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said, setting the box down on the counter after refusing to let you carry it into the store.

“I opened a door Jaemin,” you said, scoffing at him from the door, “it’s nothing. Plus, it’s worth it if it means your boss won’t kill you— What are you doing?”

“I’m helping,” he was faced away from you, hands working at (aggressively) opening the package.

You huffed and set your bag down next to you before walking over to him. You peered over his shoulder, catching a whiff of his cologne. It smelled fresh but sweet. He’d already taken half the books out and piled them on the counter and one or two had fallen down onto the lower half that formed the desk at which you’d fallen asleep at least five times that week.

“You actually just look like you’re making a mess, Jaem,” you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

He tried his best not to let the shy smile slither onto his face, “Then tell me where to put them.”

He turned around, obviously underestimating your proximity. You were only about five centimeters away from him — at most. He could count your eyelashes if he wanted to, and goodness knows he was tempted to. Anything to be able to look at you for a little longer.

Your heart beat sporadically in your chest, his energy making your system go haywire. You reached behind him to grab one of the books and pulled it towards your chest.

“You don’t have to help. I can do it myself,” you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, you hoped it looked like you were standing your ground and not like you were stuck in your place from the shock of being so close to him.

“I want to,” you swore his eyes glitched — or yours did — because you saw him steal a glance at your lips.

You turned around swiftly before you could think about it anymore, “Alright, it’s organised by genre but these are all just restocks so you can take a few of these to the back.”

It took less time than you thought to pack everything away and enter the stock on the system, nearly half the time it usually took you by yourself. Jaemin was a lot more helpful than you thought he would, and he was a lot stronger than he looked, too.

“Do you want a ride home?” came his voice from behind you as he reached over you to put the last book on a shelf.

“Uh, I’ll be fine by myself,” you said, walking away from the shelf to get your bag again and sling it over your shoulder.

“I need to say thanks for taking the delivery, though,” his hands were back in the pockets of his black skinny jeans. His gaze floated over to you, the bottom lid of his eyes slightly swollen with sincerity.

“You already helped me put the books away, you’ve done more than enough—”

“But, I did make you stay late. And the city’s not safe at this hour.”

You sighed in defeat and readjusted your bag. You did hate walking at night and you’d been on your feet most of the day, so perhaps it wasn’t the worst idea to accept the lift home.

He grinned when you accepted and led you over to the van and you tried not to make a comment about getting into a van with a stranger.

You’d been driving for about ten minutes when you signalled for Jaemin to pull over in front of your apartment building. You reached for the door handle to let yourself out of the car once it came to a stop, but before you could, a hand caught your upper arm.

“Y/n…” he trailed off, eyes on the bend of your elbow.

You waited a moment, “Jaemin?”

And when he didn’t answer, you waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hmm? Oh,” he blinked out of his state and looked at you once again, “Uh, never mind.”

Your brows gathered like the ruffles on a dress but you gave him a moment before he let go of your arm, “You’ve been watching too many dramas, Jaemin. What were you going to say?”

He seemed taken aback at first, your directness not something he had anticipated. But then he smiled.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out sometime,” his shyness was almost gone now, your honesty pulling it away from him.

“And? Do you still want to?”

“Yes.”

Your calm façade faltered when he handed you his phone and told you to put your number in it. His fingers brushed yours and you nearly shivered from the contact. However, you managed to hide it during your swift turn away from him.

He texted you as soon as you got into your apartment. You sat in bed for hours, hands grasping your phone. You only needed to wait a few seconds at a time for his replies. Your body hurt from being pushed into the mattress in such an awkward position, but you barely noticed it. Until it reached 3am that is. You had to force yourself to stop replying after the third time you’d sent a “goodnight, i’m actually leaving this time” text. You lay there for a while before you drifted off, thoughts of Jaemin floating through your mind.

Waking up the next morning was one of the hardest things you’d done in a while. Your eyelids felt puffy — you could feel them around your eyeballs everytime you blinked — and your neck hurt from being held up to look at your phone all night. The only reason you wound up going into work was because of one of Jaemin’s texts from last night:

“I’ll come by the bookshop after work sometime this week and we can have that date.”

“I mean hang out*! Unless you’re okay with it being a date? Bc I’d like that.”

—

None of the drinks in the convenience store looked like the one you wanted, or even close to it. Green, orange and yellow bottles lined the refrigerated shelves and you had no interest in any of them. You’d been standing at the back of the store in front of the refrigerators for a few minutes too long and at this point it was probably getting strange for the cashier. If they were even looking, that is. You realised in your short time in the retail industry that the cashiers are never looking at the customers. Most of the time they were zoned out, or on their phones and not watching the customer’s every move, though it still felt like it. You faintly heard the door swing open, but your eyes remained glued to the drinks on the other side of the glass, and your thoughts most definitely not on your surroundings.

Jaemin hadn’t been to the store in three days and he hadn’t texted you since yesterday. As much as you hated to admit it, that boy had got into your head and so, too, had insecurity. Though your rational mind tried to explain the number of reasons he hadn’t been able to come, your irrational mind seemed to be winning in thinking that he was tired of you. It was absurd that you were having this crisis in the middle of the juice aisle of a 7 Eleven at 10pm and you knew it. You also knew he probably had a busy day at work, he’d even told you last week how busy Wednesdays were for some reason, in fact he’d complained for almost ten minutes while you sat staring at the fluffy ends of his hair. But what could you have done to drive him away? Maybe it was the staring…

“This is getting painful.”

And now you were hearing his voice everywhere. It really was time for you to go home. Take a nap. Maybe it was exhaustion talking. After all, you had stayed up late talking to him last night and you had to get up extra early because you were the one opening the shop.

“Just take the pineapple one.” No, that had to be Jaemin.

You whipped around then when the realisation hit you, however, you still stumbled back a bit when you saw it was his figure standing behind you in the aisle.

“What?” Your brain was still cloudy from all the thoughts swirling around it previously, though they’d completely disappeared now that Jaemin was within your line of sight.

“Take the pineapple soda,” he said again, a giant, perfect smile on his face.

“I don’t like pineapple,” you said, gears in your head finally working again, “I was looking for—”

“Please don’t say strawberry,” he hung his shoulders when he saw the sly grin that crept its way onto your face. “Why does everyone love strawberry so much? It tastes like medicine.”

He took you by the hand and pulled you towards the door, passing the very much unconscious cashier on the way out.

“Where are you taking me to?” Your hand was limp in his, you didn’t have the confidence quite yet to be able to grip his hand back.

“That place never has strawberry soda, I’m taking you somewhere that does,” he didn’t let go of your hand for a second.

You watched him as he walked slightly ahead of you, his hair bouncing as he walked. He was wearing a ring, though you couldn’t see exactly what it was in the streetlights’ glow. It was cold against your skin despite his own skin being warm as well.

You walked for a few minutes before Jaemin’s head suddenly perked up like a puppy who’d heard its name being called.

“Do you hear music?” he asked, whipping his head around in an attempt to find where the waves of music were coming from.

“It must be from the park down that way,” you pointed past Jaemin, to the road on your right.

Jaemin grinned and pulled you with him down the empty road. The park came into view and you saw what seemed to be the remains of a festival. People were littered around the centre of the park, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Some were gazing up at the sparkling lights tangled among the branches, and others were dancing to the music playing.

Jaemin’s grin widened and he turned to you with bright eyes and a pleading expression on his face.

“I thought we were getting soda,” you said, with a smile on your face that told him there was no way you could say ’no.’

“Just ten minutes?” Jaemin bit his bottom lip in excitement as soon as he finished his sentence, he already knew your answer.

“Fine.”

By the time you got the word out, he was already pulling you after him to the row of trees.

Once you were on the path, beautiful trees surrounding you, Jaemin slowed down and craned his neck to look up. He squeezed your hand in order to get you to look up at the trees as well. Clouds of pink petals collected around the branches, and the lights shone like stars among them. The music and faint sound of cars filled your ears and the smell of freshly cooked food floated through the air.

“I’ve never been to one of these festivals at night,” you said, turning your head to the side to look at him instead.

Your words tore his eyes away from the view above, “Really?”

You nodded your head simply and the two of you continued walking in comfortable silence. Every now and then, drops of water fell from the trees above you like rain from the clouds, most likely from the rain that had run through the city earlier in the day. The music floated around your head, it was a song you didn’t remember the name of but the beat was familiar and it caused you to nod your head to the tune. Jaemin sensed the nodding of your head and did his best to hide his smile by looking down at the paved ground below him.

His gaze was brought back to you, though, when he heard a light giggle. Jaemin’s eyes followed your line of sight and found that you were looking at two kids dancing to the music. They bounced about with no sense of the rhythm of the music, giant smiles on their faces. He felt as though he was in the ending shot of a drama, a freeze frame centred on the main character, the background out of focus and the edges of the screen twinkling. Jaemin wanted so desperately to ask you to dance. Right there. In the middle of the park. And he considered doing it, too.

Just then, your smile widened as the two children began twirling aimlessly and Jaemin couldn’t stop himself from speaking his next words, “Did you want to da-“

Luckily for him, the rain was able to stop him when it suddenly came pouring down. Both of you stood frozen for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, until you started pulling Jaemin back the way you came.

“How far is the store you wanted to go to?” you asked when Jaemin furrowed his brows at you.

“Oh, right,” he said, grabbing your hand tighter and walking in front of you, “It’s just around the corner.”

Eventually he stopped the two of you in front of a frozen yoghurt shop. It was devoid of people except for the cashier, who you could barely make out the silhouette of in the neon lights.

He pulled you in through the glass door and pointed over to the drinks glistening in the lights. The whole shop was cold, making you put your hands on your upper arms to preserve heat. You took one of the many strawberry flavoured sodas off the shelf, but you shivered at the even cooler temperature inside the refrigerator. You stood there for a few seconds, thinking before grabbing a pineapple soda from the bottom shelf and turning around to head towards the cashier.

Jaemin was already sat at one of the white tables, facing away from you. The black material of his jacket hugged him comfortably, his body nearly drowning in the fabric. It made you want to wrap your arms around him, whether it was simply to get warmth or if it was to get to hold Jaemin, you weren’t sure.

You yanked your eyes away from him and went over to the cashier, setting the two bottles down on the counter.

“You don’t have to pay,” he said from his place on a stool near the cash register. He didn’t even look up from the phone in his hands, “It’s on the house.”

You jerked your head away in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“Really, you don’t have to pay for it” Jaemin’s voice came up behind you, “that’s my cousin, he’s trying to get fired.”

You looked back and forth between the two for a second, only just seeing the resemblance.

“What? Why?” you ask, not sure who to direct the question to, but that problem was solved when the boy sitting behind the register put AirPods in his ears.

“My aunt will kill him if he quits another job,” Jaemin snickered, “He’s quit five in the last four months.”

You walked over to Jaemin as he spoke and you noticed two cups of frozen yoghurt on the table.

“That has to be a record,” you sat down and Jaemin pushed one of the cups over to you. There was a curl of lilac coloured frozen yoghurt peeking out the top of the cup.

He chuckled, “Yeah, his mom completely cussed him out. But I’ve met the manager of this place and I would want to quit too if I were him.”

It was silent for a few seconds as you dipped the plastic spoon into the swirl of frozen yoghurt and hummed.

“You just don’t like him, because he stocks strawberry flavoured soda,” you spoke around your growing smirk before opening the can and taking a sip from said soda.

“Hey, at least I’m not the one mixing soda with frozen yoghurt,” he said, pointing to the aforementioned drink with a stern look in his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, seeing through his judgemental facade, “You’ve never tried it have you?” His gaze melted into one of rather tense curiosity at your actions as you raised a spoonful of the frozen yoghurt to your mouth.

“No, doesn’t it feel weird?” he watched you with his confusion pulling on his brows.

“That’s the whole point,” you said, before following the spoon of yoghurt with a sip of soda again.

He quickly scooped some frozen yoghurt from the quickly diminishing supply into his mouth and then looked at you expectantly after swallowing, “So it’s like a chaser?”

You let out a giggle, “I mean kinda, yeah. Try it, but keep the soda in your mouth for a little.”

He reached out, took his soda into his right hand, and after opening it and giving it a curious look, he drank from it. His eyes widened at the pleasant sensation of fizzing and bubbling in his mouth and he pulled his lips together as if sucking from a straw. You laughed loudly at his animated reaction and tried to hold back the ‘I told you so’ that threatened to spill past your lips.

“Wow,” his mouth widened, his jaw comically lopsided, and held the can of soda out in front of him, looking at it as if it had just spoken to him. He then looked up at you, his expression turning back into confusion, “Why are you laughing?!”

“I’ve shown this to so many people, but they’ve never reacted like you just did,” you put a hand in front of your mouth as you continued to heave out giggles.

Jaemin’s features softened as he watched your eyes and nose crinkle from your laughter. A smile etched itself onto his own face at the sight and sound of you laughing at him. Your cheeks were jutting out to make room for your smile and he was sure your laugh was the best sound he’d ever heard. He was glad he could make you laugh so hard. Glad that he had any positive effect on you at all, really.

While the two of you continued talking, the sky outside emptied itself of rain until it had none left. The sound of rain clattering to the ground outside was replaced with only the occasional drip from the roof. However, neither you nor Jaemin would admit that you’d noticed it, instead opting to stay in the bubble your laughter and conversation had made around you. That was, until a set of keys was hurtled towards Jaemin, who very nearly caught them. They landed on the floor behind him and he twisted around to pick them up.

“What the hell?” said Jaemin, throwing his words at his cousin who had just woken up.

“When you’re done, lock up for me will you?” he said as he picked up a backpack from behind the counter, “But don’t stay too long, Jaemin, if you keep looking at them like that I’m pretty sure your eyes will turn heart shaped.”

Jaemin scoffed, watching his cousin disappear out the back entrance without another word, leaving only the lights above the refrigerators on.

“Alright let’s go,” he stood up and held his hand out for you to take and you couldn’t help the shy smile that pushed its way onto your face.

After locking up, the two of you began wandering the streets of Seoul, with no particular destination in mind. Jaemin kept your hand in his as you walked. The rain had stopped, but it had left blotches of water for you to dodge everywhere you went.

The boy next to you had become completely silent, the only sounds he made being occasional hums as you spoke. So eventually, you decided to let the sounds of the city enter the space between you instead of trying to fill it with your words.

You made your way to your apartment, Jaemin still by your side. When the two of you stopped in front of your building you had the urge to lean closer to him, to close your eyes and let your lips meld together in a kiss. You wanted to be as close to him as you could in that moment, but when he only gave you a rushed ‘goodnight’ and turned away, your hopes sunk down to the floor of your heart. As you watched him walk away, you felt coldness set in for the first time since you’d met him.

—

Three days after your date with Jaemin, an old man walked into the bookstore with a delivery box in his arms. You went around the counter to take the box from him and sign for the package, frowning all the while. The man left without saying a word, but when he turned around, you caught sight of what must have been a chewed piece of gum behind his ear. Your shoulders jostled in disgust as soon as he was out of sight.

A moment later, Jisoo appeared from the backroom. “Was that Jaemin?”

“No,” you said blankly before looking up from the box you’d just cut open, “but I have met the mold guy now, and you’re right. The smell does hang around after he’s gone.”

“Jaemin better be dying,” she said, going around the counter to start entering the stock on the computer, “or I'll kill him myself for staying home.”

“I don’t think he stayed home,” your shoulders slumped as you said it, “He probably changed his shifts.”

Jisoo hummed in confusion, signalling for you to elaborate. Her eyes were still on the screen but her face was aimed towards you.

“He hasn’t talked to me since we went on that date,” you huffed, placing your hands on your hips. Lifting books all the time still hadn’t become any easier since you‘d started this job. You had, however, learned to appreciate air conditioning after the one day it didn’t work and you were reminded why no one else had turned a greenhouse into a store of some kind.

That pulled Jisoo’s eyes away from the screen, “You went on a what? And he didn’t—? Okay, no, fill me in,” she leaned her forearms on the counter.

“Well, he asked me on a date that night that he made that late delivery, then didn’t specify a day or time and then found me in a convenience store and whisked me away on a really, really lovely date and then he didn’t call or text and now he’s most likely changed shifts because he hates me,” you took a sharp breath in at the end of your rambling.

“That doesn’t sound like something Jaemin would do,” she said, “I mean the last part, the late delivery and suddenly taking you on a date sounds just like him.” She paused for a moment, eyes cast down as she thought, “Have you tried texting him?”

“Of course I have.”

“And?”

“Delivered,” you deadpanned.

The bell on the door rang behind you and you rounded the counter to take over from Jisoo while she asked the customer if they needed any help. Before she left your side though, she sent you a sad, close-mouthed smile and squeezed your arm.

That night, as soon as you’d changed into comfortable clothing and sat on your sofa to watch reruns of an old show, you picked up your phone and wandered over to your chat with Jaemin absent mindedly. As you opened it, you felt a slight pinch in your heart. Maybe being left on delivered was better.

—

You held a bucket above the lamp in the centre of the room, the plop from the drops of water entering it being washed away under the sound of the rain outside the store. You were in the process of trying to place the pile of books you had in your hand onto the table without letting the drops of water get on the lamp, when you heard the sound of the bell ringing above the door.

It had been a while — maybe almost two weeks — since you’d last seen Jaemin; since you’d last talked to him. But now he pushed his way into the shop, bringing with him a whirlwind of the weather outside.

You looked over to his form in the doorway: a box littered with giant dark spots in his hands and his hair nearly dripping from the rain despite the hood of his sopping yellow raincoat framing his face.

When he caught sight of you, your arms holding books and buckets alike and struggling with both of them, he set the box down on the ground near a bookshelf and rushed over to take the pile of books from you. He set them on the old couch and helped you move the heavy lamp in order to put the bucket in its place to catch the water.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, keeping your eyes away from him.

“No problem,” he said, putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

‘He has no business looking that pretty.’

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a while…”

You scoffed immediately, “You haven’t answered my texts in a while either.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” you can’t tell if he’s avoiding your eyes because he’s ashamed, or because he’s lying.

“Well, at least you don’t have to apologise for not reading them, because you most certainly did that,” you nearly felt bad as the words sprang out of your mouth, nearly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his voice was weak, so were his words.

On hearing the words drop from his lips, your anger rose like a wave at high tide.

“Oh really? Then what exactly did you mean to do, Jaemin? Because, taking someone out on a date — which, by the way, was the best date I’ve ever been on — and then leaving them outside their apartment with barely a ‘goodbye,’ and not calling or texting for a week doesn’t sound like you’re trying very hard not to hurt someone.” You took a breath, before muttering, “Not to mention the fact that you switched your shift just to avoid me.”

“Fuck, I know, okay? I’m so sorry,” he looked up at you then, eyes shining with sadness, the excited glow diminished to barely a flicker, “I know I was an asshole. It was the best night I’ve ever had and I was an idiot not to hold on to you and I’m incredibly sorry. If I could rewind and do it the right way I would.”

“Then why’d you do it, Jaem?” his shoulders slumped at the change in your voice, you were holding back tears and you’d grown so small in front of him. His arms nearly wound themselves around you of their own accord.

“Honestly?” he took a moment to collect his thoughts and arrange them into words, “I was scared. It sounds insanely cheesy and like it comes from a Taylor Swift song or something, but the way you made me feel was terrifying.”

“Great, thanks, you really know how to make someone feel better,” You rolled your eyes, a tear falling down your warm cheek in the process.

He didn’t have time to stop the airy laugh that escaped him, “I felt fearless. You made me feel like there was nothing in the world that could stop me, as long as I was with you.”

You wanted to hate him, wanted to yell that that was bullshit. You wanted to push him out the door and into the rain yourself. But, you couldn’t. You knew he was being sincere. You knew it, because that was exactly how you’d felt and it had scared you, too.

“So you ghosted me completely? Because that doesn’t sound so ‘fearless’ to me,” you tried to keep your resolve until you got the answer you needed.

“Like I said, I was an idiot. It was stupid of me to try to get rid of someone who made me feel like that. I just — I’ve fallen for you so hard and so fast that it scared me, because by the end of the night I knew I wasn’t going to stop falling any time soon, I still haven’t. And then what if I lost you? What if I did something wrong and made you hate me?” he sighed, reigning in his thoughts and emotions, “So, I ran before I could fall anymore. I tried to minimise the pain before it even started.”

“So then, why are you here now?”

“This past week has felt like the place you go to if you’re too shitty even for hell,” he took a small step towards you, “I’ve already fallen way too hard to turn back. And plus, Jisoo called me and told me you were genuinely really upset and well, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. So, even if it means possibly getting my heart shattered by you in the future, I’d gladly do anything to make you happy.”

“Jae—”

“Oh and Jisoo said she’d get me fired if I didn’t at least explain myself and I really need the money so— Ow!” He rubbed the spot on his bicep where you’d pinched him. He still held a smile on his face from his own joke.

He was probably the happiest you’d seen someone who’d just been pinched, and suddenly, you couldn’t hide your own smile.

“Will you forgive me then? Or at least let me make it up to you?”

“Depends on how you plan to make it up to me,” gathering yourself, you turned around to enter the back room Jisoo was always hiding in, Jaemin following you close behind.

“What about a date? I’m on my lunch break right now and I just saw this—”

You stopped in the doorway and interrupted him, “I still have to work for another four hours, text me when your shift is over.”

He nodded vigorously, “Yes, uh, okay perfect. I will! I’ll see you later tonight then?” He began backing out of the bookstore with a giant, goofy smile plastered on his face.

Just before he opened the door, you called his name, “Jaemin! Actually text me this time okay?”

“I swear I will!”

if you liked this, buy me a coffee!

taglist: @infnteen (if anyone wants to be added, send an ask or a message!)

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’ Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #marvel #mcu #one door closes #anika ann

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Better Man. ( Taehyung x OC)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 3 ~ The problem with marriage is this : it isn’t worth the pain of divorce.

Denial isn’t healthy.

But sometimes it helps you stay sane , at least long enough to get your act together. When you’re in denial, you kind of keep yourself together a bit. You process things a bit more slowly. Take your time examining the facts.

It helps you make a delayed but possibly more informed decision.

Impulsive decisions never end well.

So it’s good to stew in denial for a while ( a short while) and then slowly begin processing what happened, think about it, think how its gonna affect you and then make a choice.

Unfortunately for Taehyung and I... I wasn’t in denial.

Maybe I should have been.

The time between Taehyung turning up drunk and the me leaving the house was less than twelve hours. Taehyung showed up drunk and I just told him I was leaving. That we needed a break and I didn’t know when I’d be back.

Terrible choice.

In the first twelve hours, the hurt is so potent and strong , the wound so raw and fresh that you can’t think beyond the pain . Your instinct is to repay the pain, to retaliate and make the other party feel exactly what you’re feeling. So you think of the thing that would hurt them the most and you go ahead and do it.

Like move out of your shared home of eight years, take away the son he adored and possibly rip the ground right out from under his feet.

And then after the first twelve hours, reason begins to catch up.

I had wanted to go back.

I had wanted to go back to him but I was scared.

Scared that I was being weak.

That if I didn’t stick to the choice I made, Taehyung would forever see me as a pushover. That he would take it as some sick permission to do it all over again. That he’d just think I was too weak to walk out on him.

And i couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him hurting me and not facing the consequences of it. I just couldn’t.

So I stayed away.

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

I worked on the seventh floor of a high rise in Gangnam, probably a twenty minute drive from Taehyung’s agency. It was an electronic/ tech company that dealt with everything from mobile phones to home fittings . As the assistant director of Marketing I dealt with branding and keeping up the image of the company. Annual budgets, endorsements, campaigns and what not.

I was good at it and i enjoyed it . everyone agreed that i did a good job because the numbers spoke for themselves. But I think the main reason I got the job was because I was married to the biggest brand ambassador in the country.

“ I need the reports on consumer trends for this month and I want to meet with Social media team before lunch. There’s a drop in our web traffic and that needs to be fixed.” I told my assistant, accepting the hot coffee and muffin that he held in his hand before moving to the corner office, my strides faltering just a bit when i noticed that someone was already inside. The figure had his back to me but I could vaguely recognize the broad shoulders and muscular arms.

“Mr. Jeon’s been waiting for about ten minutes now.” Mingyu said with a smile and I nodded.

“That’s fine , I’ll handle him.” I waved my assistant off and moved to the door, unlocking it and stepping in.

“Morning, Jang Mi.” He smiled, eyes flashing with ill concealed delight and I inhaled to calm myself down. .

I could already feel a headache coming on.

“Jungkook.” I said curtly. “ To what do I owe this very early visit?” I glanced at my table finally taking the bottle of champagne in the small ice bucket.

“Thought we’d celebrate you finally being free.” He grinned.

Jeon Jungkook was handsome, intelligent , and annoyingly good at everything he did.

At 34, He was one of the youngest CFO’s in the industry, and everything he touched turned to gold. I didn’t report to him and he had zero reasons to be in my office at any given time. But , unfortunately he had never gotten that particular memo.

“I’m not in the mood, Jungkook.” I sighed, moving to the back of my desk and dropping my bag on the small ottoman on the side and my keys in the desk. I plugged my phone into the cable on the side and then went to open the blinds.

“Come on... You know how sick I’ve been of two years of hearing ‘ I’m sorry, I’m married.’ .... you’re gonna have to come up with a better excuse the next time i ask you out.”

“No. No is a whole entire sentence that you should be able to accept.” I said evenly, fixing the cushions on the couch only to have him plop down on them immediately after.

“One date. Dinner anywhere you like. i can fly you to Paris if you want.... Macua? Jeju Do? Tell me what you want and I’ll get it done. ?”

i stared at him.

“I want you to fire Kang Yeseul from the Social Media team.” I said with a shrug.

He frowned.

“The new girl? Why?”

“She’s been posting nudes that she took in my office when I was on leave last week. My name plate is literally visible.”

“Jesus fuck...these bitches get dumber by the minute.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said swiftly. “ Anything else?”

“Web traffics gone down and I’m gonna find out why. It’s probably time for us to work out the budget for the Christmas Carnival. I think we should go for something new this time. If you can set up a meeting with all the department heads we can brainstorm a few ideas...”

“I can’t forget about that night.”

I froze.

God.

i turned around to stare at him as he lounged on the couch. If Kim Taehyung was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, Jungkook was definitely the second.

He was disconcertingly good looking and where Taehyung’s image was always the clean cut gentleman with the perfect character, Jungkook had a reputation as a bit of a delinquent. Simply because he had a penchant for leather jackets and liked to ride around Seoul on his motorbike on days off.

Which was ironical because in truth, Taehyung was far from a saint and Jungkook was relatively more put together

He was also a divorcee and a single parent. His daughter Jennie was easily the cutest two year old on the planet.

His wife and him had fifty fifty custody but she had cheated on him with his best friend. Jungkook had no patience for her. They had a very volatile relationship but he was fighting for full custody and rumor was that he would most certainly be granted it, soon.

A marathon runner , he didn’t drink or smoke.

Jungkook liked to paint and volunteered at an animal shelter once or twice a month because he loved dogs but couldn’t keep one because of his busy schedule.

So all in all , a pretty solid candidate if I was looking for a guy.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I was completely and utterly done with relationships for the rest of my life, I would actually give the guy a chance.

But , it is what it is.

“That sounds like a you problem. “ I shrugged. “ It was supposed to be one night with no strings attached. And by string I meant awkward conversations three months later .”

Jungkook groaned and sat up straighter, legs spread and shirt sleeves riding up to show a very sparkly watch. Rich men and their vices. I smirked a little.

“Come on... its just dinner. I want to get to know you, that’s it.” he held his hands up.

“There’s nothing to know Jungkook. I’m actually more boring than i appear, which is saying something. I’m not going to be the girl in the leather jacket clinging to your waist when you’re joyriding that motorbike of yours through Seoul. That’s not me. I would hate something that”

He chuckled.

“Are you sure? You ever tried it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll buy you a jacket. Join me this weekend. We’ll go a ride. Then you can make a decision.”

I opened my mouth to argue when the phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

“Hello?”

“This is Lee Taemin from the Advertising Department.”

“Yes?”

“We have a Mr. Jung from HYBE on the phone. They want to talk to us about a possible candidate for our Christmas Campaign.... “

I blinked, surprised.

“We haven’t even decided on a theme yet. “

Choosing the right actors to endorse stuff was usually the last step.

“I know but he’s saying they want to talk about Mr. Kim Taehyung as a possible candidate?”

I felt my entire jaw come unhinged.

I turned to Jungkook stunned. His eyes widened at the look on my face and he mouthed a ‘ What’

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes.” I said quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook demanded.

“Taehyung’s manager...he... he wants to make him the face of the Christmas Campaign.” I said dully, mind ringing. I was utterly stupefied.

Taehyung was the face of Gucci and Versace . He was so far out of our company’s league it wasn’t even funny.

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief.

“No.” He said quickly.

I gaped at him.

“What?”

“No... we can’t have that. He’s.. he’s obviously doing this to get back with you...”

I shook my head.

“that can’t be it. He’s the one who gave me a divorce. He’s the one who wanted to end it. “

It was the shock of what I’d heard. There was no other explanation for why I said that to Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook gave me a look.

“Really? But you wanted one too right?”

“Of course I did.” I lied easily, waving him off. “Anyway that doesn’t matter. We can’t say no to him, Jungkook. Our sales would skyrocket if we get him onboard.”

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck, you’re right. The Ceo will probably piss himself in excitement. You sure you’ll be okay with it?”

Jungkook looked worried.

“You forget that Taehyung and I are actually quite good friends.” I said gently.

He grimaced.

“That's just unnatural. If you can stay friends with an ex it clearly means that either you’re still in love with each other or....”He shrugged.

“Or what?”

“Or you never loved each other in the first place.”

I swallowed the remark hitting a little too close to home for comfort.

“Schedule that meeting Jungkook. We’ll come up with a campaign theme that would fit Taehyung’s image. I’ll take to Hoseok and Taehyung.”

“You’re going to call Taehyung?” Jungkook asked casually.

“Hoshi’s with him today. I’ll probably go over to his place after work and talk to him in person.”

“Lucky bastard. He gets to hurt you and yet still have you.” Jungkook said bitterly.

I rolled my eyes.

“He doesn’t have me.”

“Doesn’t he? Why else would you turn down dates with anyone who asks? its one date.. a dinner... If you’re not still hung up on your ex husband why wouldn’t you just go on one date with-”

I’d really had quite enough of it. I threw my hands up in sheer exasperation.

“Alright fine.” I yelled, “ I’ll go to dinner with you...can you just stop psycho analyzing my relationship with my husband?”

Jungkook’s smile told me that I’d been played like a fiddle.

“excellent. Go see your husband after work and I’ll come pick you up at eight.”

“What...no wait...”

“I know where he lives. Don’t worry about it. I’ll schedule that meeting and maybe after lunch we can go over the kind of budget you’ll want. Okay?”

I felt a little like I’d stepped into quagmire.

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

I didn’t go see Taehyung after work.

I didn’t have to.

An hour before I was due to finish my daily report, he turned up at the office with my son. My assistant let him in and I could only gape at him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked , completely thrown.

“Mama I had ice cream with strawberries and sprinkles in a hundred colors.” Hoshi looked excited, eyes shining the way they usually did when he was with Taehyung.

“That sound incredibly exciting....”

“We missed you mama....can we go again?” He said excitedly.

“I’m sorry honey, Mama’s a little caught up with work...”

“Why don’t we wait?” Taehyung said cheerfully, “ Mama likes blueberry scones so we can get those for her...”

I stared at him.

“Okay...” I sad carefully, staring him down. What was he doing really?

“Okay... Can I go see the fishies....” Hoshi waved at the large fish tank built into the wall in my office and Taehyung laughed, letting him down.

“Sure bud.. go see how many of the fish you can identify...” He said brightly.

“ Since when do you pick me up for blueberry scones after work?” I asked briskly and he shrugged.

“Let the kid be happy , Mia. I heard Hobi hyung already spoke to you.”

“What is that all about, Tae?” I said tiredly.

“All the other offers i got are out of Korea. I want to stay with Hoshi during the Holidays so i thought this way , we could spend some time together..”

“By we, I hope you mean you and Hoshi.” I said drily.

“Of course. I could’ve picked another mall or something but i thought it could be a good thing if we worked at the same place... we can keep Hoshi with us and there wont be all the commuting back and forth nonsense....”

I nodded.

“I suppose you’re right. “ I sighed. “But be warned, you’re probably not going to have a very exciting time.

“I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

I nodded.

“I won’t tell you how to live your life And I most certainly won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My Ceo might just give me a huge pay raise for this. He’s been waiting for it since the time he hired me.”

Taehyung gave me a smile.

“I would have done it the minute you asked. You never asked.”

I shrugged.

“Like I said, I won’t tell you how to live your life.”

“Jang Mi?” The knock on the door made us both look up.

Jungkook stood framed in the doorway, jacket off and slung over his arms . He looked bigger than usual, muscles straining against his button down and hair mussed.

He stepped in casually, holding a hand out to Taehyung.

“The golden boy of Korea. in the flesh. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Kim. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook”

The pair of them shook hands and I felt that I would rather be anywhere in the world than there.

“ Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon.” Taehyung smiled politely.

“We still on for tonight?” Jungkook asked casually, turning to me with a bright smile.

This is why i hated men.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to me so fast that i was sure he must’ve got whiplash.

“Sure. I’ll call you.” I said shortly.

“What’s tonight?” Taehyung smiled, face neutral and smile still in place but his eyes flashed and his voice carried a knife edge to it.

“Business dinner. We’re going over the budget for the Christmas campaign.”

“Oh... where?” Taehyung asked with the same smile and I frowned.

“We’ve not decid-”

“I thought I could cook for you. i make a mean steak dinner and I thought I could pick up a bottle of your favorite wine on the way. You have my address right? ” Jungkook smiled.

Taehyung went still next to me, his entire body taut .

“A little inappropriate for a business dinner, don’t you think?” he snapped.

Jungkook glared back at him, eyes narrowed.

“Well, you know what they say about all work and no play-” he began but I’d had enough.

“I think this conversation needs to end now.” I said loudly.

They both shut up but glared at each other.

“I’m gonna make a reservation at the Hyatt for tonight. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. “ I said, glaring at Jungkook.

He nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you Kim Taehyung.” He nodded curtly at my ex husband before moving away.

The silence he left behind was pretty awkward.

“Bit too much of a douchebag than your usual type.” Taehyung said casually.

I groaned.

“Don’t start.”

“ I won’t if you don’t date him.”

I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped.

“Lets just get that ice cream ? “ I said tiredly. Hoshi reappeared from the inside room, looking excited and happy and I smiled despite my weariness.

I could use a little sweetness in my life after a bitterly exhausting day.

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

Author’s note : Feedback is welcome . Probably going to be a long , terribly angsty fic with a lot of pain for everyone involved. I still haven’t decided who ocs going to end up with so we’ll see... what do you guys think?

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fics #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

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professorrw · 4 years ago

Text

Mistakes, a Loki One-Shot

Warnings: Angst, Smut, attempted murder, mentions of death, enemies-to-lovers

Request: “Can you do a Loki one shot? enemies to lovers troupe? a lot of angst pls -moon”

Word Count: 2195

A/N: I hope this was good! I’ve never written angst so I tried my best! And yeah, Loki doesn’t hate Y/N, it’s more like she hates him in the beginning but I tried. If you have any tips please message me or comment! Reblog and like if you enjoyed!

Loki, God of Mischief. During his attack on New York he managed to kill 80 people. One of them being your mother, your anchor. She had been with you through it all. She supported you no matter what. When you wanted to enlist in the military she let you and when you were discharged she was still there for you.

When you left the Marines you began to work as a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent. Your current assignment was to watch over Loki, who was being held at the Avengers base. The assignment was perfect. You could finally get revenge on Loki for taking away your only family.

If any of the Avengers found out about your mother’s death they probably wouldn’t let you watch him. And they shouldn’t. When you got the chance, you were going to kill him. It didn’t matter that you might go to jail or get fired. He deserved it, and you were going to serve the justice your mother and all his other victims deserved.

Monday rolled around and you arrived on the base. Loki would be held in a room made of see-through electric walls. Even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to escape. You were in control of the wall. If you wished, the walls could be lowered. Eventually, you would lower them. Not for Loki to leave, but for you to enter.

You sat with your feet lounging on the desk in front of the “cage.” Loki was standing in the middle, watching you. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of speaking to him. Hell, you avoided looking at him.

Hours passed by silently and you left your post. You had the surveillance cameras hooked up to your phone so you could watch him while you were away. You slipped into bed in the room you were assigned and went to sleep, thinking of your plans.

The next morning was just as uneventful as the previous day. It wasn’t until noon that something happened. Instead of standing in the middle of the room, Loki approached the wall nearest you and spoke, “You seem to disdain me more than your fellow Avengers. I don’t recall ever doing anything to you. I would remember seeing such a beautiful face.”

You ignored his comment and turned your face away from his smirking one. You were told he had a knack for getting under peoples’ skin.

“You want to be silent? Very well. I’ll admire you from a distance then.” He returned to the middle of the room but continued to watch you with a thin-lipped smile. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but wonder if his legs ached from standing so long.

As Loki said, he didn’t bother you for the rest of the week. You kept your mouth shut and tried to avoid his gaze the whole time. There was an incident when you were coming back from getting lunch and happened to glance at him, already looking at you. He seemed to find pleasure in the quick turn of your head when your eyes met. No doubt, just as the other Avengers promised, he was trying to get under your skin. You were used to having people scrutinize your every move, but what Loki was doing felt different.

To your dismay, when you returned to your desk the following Monday, Loki decided he wanted to bother you.

“It’s terribly lonely in here. Why don’t you join me?” He knew you weren’t going to answer but he still prodded you. “What’s wrong dear? Afraid I bite? I promise it’s only lightly.”

You gave him a cold scowl and returned to the book you were reading.

“You enjoy reading? Do enlighten me on the title,” he asked. Unlike the way he was speaking previously, he seemed genuinely curious to know. Who knew a god would be interested in books?

Even though you told yourself you wouldn’t utter a word to him, you decided to tell him what you were reading. “Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.”

He responded only with a hum, as if he was thinking it over. You raised your eyebrows, expecting him to say more about your sudden inclination to speak to him. He didn’t say anything else though, and returned to look into your eyes with a searing intensity.

He remained silent for the duration of the day, which bothered you more than his speaking evidently. You had to admit, sitting there for hours was boring but it would be worth it in the end.

Another week passed before Loki decided to speak again.

“You dislike talking to me and looking at me.” He said it as if it was a fact. Which it was.

“What did I do to you?” He said this with an earnest tone. He genuinely wanted to know. It was eating at him that such a beautiful creature would feel such hatred towards him.

He let out a sharp sigh and decided to give him what he was searching for. “During your little rampage in New York, you killed my mother. I’m sorry if I don’t act friendly,” you spat.

For a second he looked taken aback. Even though it was only a fraction of a second you caught it. Did he not realize the damage he had caused? Surely he wasn’t that thick-skulled, you thought.

“I apologize, I wasn’t aware.”

“Of course you weren’t. You were too busy trying to take over Earth to take into account that you were killing people,” you scoffed. “And don’t act like you’re sorry. I know you aren’t. You can’t begin to understand the pain I felt and still feel.”

“You would be wrong there, dear. My own mother was killed. It was my fault; a foolish mistake.” He muttered the last sentence and you had to strain to hear it, but you did. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of… empathy?

“Well I’m sorry. That doesn’t excuse what you did though.” You were sorry. Not that he deserved to hear your apology.

“I did not dare think it would. You should not feel so alone, dear. I share your emptiness.” His words caught you off guard. He was right. A part of you did feel empty. But you weren’t one to admit that you were aching for someone or something to fill that gap. Your mother was your support system and since she died you were alone. You had friends, but none close enough that you would relay so much person information to. People tried to comfort you but at the time nothing made sense. You were a ball of anger and sadness that never got to let go of your grievances. The feelings inside of you never came to the surface, you carried them with you, just for them to haunt you at night.

You didn’t want to say anything back in fear he was still trying to pick you apart and tear you down. “He’s a villain. He’s done terrible things. He killed your mother,” you kept repeating to yourself. You weren’t about to let Loki make you vulnerable. You had a personal mission to carry out and it would get done. You decided to quit talking to him for now on. You couldn’t start being friendly. You especially couldn’t let yourself be attracted to him. That would be your downfall. Although you did feel empathy towards him, you wouldn’t let anything else happen.

“What am I doing?” you thought as you arrived back in your bedroom around a week later. Your mouth didn’t like to listen to your head. You found yourself talking to Loki when he spoke to you. Talking to him. Answering his questions. You promised yourself you would put an end to him soon. If you didn’t want to fall deeper into the trap that is Loki’s charms, you would have to kill him soon. Things had gone too far already. “He is a terrible man,” you reminded yourself once more.

You laid in bed watching the security cameras for hours. You had to wait until him and all the other people in the building were asleep. It was 2 in the morning and Loki had been asleep for hours. Surely, everyone else had been too.

You stalked through the halls silently as you made your way to the “cell.” Sure enough, Loki was asleep in the small bed, laying on his back to your luck. You quickly lowered the electric wall nearest you and walked into the dark room. You pulled out your knife and steadied yourself. Finally, you could have peace.

You leaned over his body, trying to avoid looking at his peaceful face as you raised the knife to his neck. But you stopped. Could you really do this? Hasn’t he proven that he isn’t so bad? While talking to him the past week, you learned a lot about him. He openly spoke about his home and filled you in on anything you were curious about. “Shit,” you thought. Surely enough he had lured you into his trap. You couldn’t deny the growing affection you felt for him. It doesn’t matter how small the feeling was. You weren’t going to let yourself do this.

As you were thinking a voice spoke behind you, “Are you trying to kill me dear?”

You snapped your head back and saw Loki standing behind you. When you turned to look at what you had previously thought to be Loki, he wasn’t there. The covers were still pristine and in place.

“It’s alright, darling. I know you were not going to harm me. I saw your hesitation. Something has developed inside you,” he said.

“That’s not why.”

“Then whatever could change your mind? On that first day I could feel your hatred. It slowly dissipated as time passed. When I first laid eyes on you, I was intrigued. You are a passionate creature, driven by whatever your heart desires. Does your heart… desire me?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his sudden proximity. His face was inches from yours and you could feel his soft breath against your ear.

“Do you desire me… as much as I desire you?”

“I- I can’t… This was a mistake. I came in with a mission and it seems that it won’t be fulfilled.” As soon as you were done talking you turned away from him. Parts of you wanted to stay, but you knew you shouldn’t.

“A mistake? I have made many mistakes but wanting you is not one of them, love.” He looked at you with pure desire and truth in his eyes that your knees nearly went weak. Your mind told you that what you were about to do was betrayal, but you ignored it.

In one movement your body was flush against Loki’s. He placed a hand on your cheek and met you halfway, pressing your lips together. The kiss was filled with many unsaid words. It was an apology, a confession, and a thousand struggles shared between you.

Your hand moved to tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss, if that was possible. His hands traveled to your waist, pulling you against him. You could feel the hardening going on in his pants. He pulled away as if to ask you permission. You took a step backwards and fell onto the bed, laying on your back.

Loki took that as a yes and stripped out of his clothes, leaving you the only one dressed. He climbed on top of you and began to trail kisses from your jaw to your exposed collarbone. You raised your hips to let him pull off your pants and underwear, which were already wet. He chuckled lightly at the sight but continued to undress you, throwing you shirt and bra over his shoulder. Anybody could take a peek at the security cameras and find you two together, naked on his bed.

Loki started slow, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick before pushing it in the rest of the way. You bit your lip to suppress any noise. He slid in and out of you, picking up the pace as he went. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay quiet. You wanted to moan, say his name, anything to express how he was making you feel.

Loki also seemed to be having trouble staying quiet, breaths ragged with each thrust. He lifted your legs so your ankles were on his shoulders. The thrust he gave after that was enough to make a sound slip from both of you. He groaned and you moaned out his name, “Loki.”

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, coming undone as he gave another hard thrust. They soon became sporadic, some slow and some fast, but none at a steady pace. Just moments after you came, so did he, right into you.

He pulled out and rolled to your side, wrapping an arm around you as you both caught your breath. Whatever worries were troubling you were gone from mind as you laid there, mind focused on the man next to you.

#loki #loki smut #fanfiction #marvel #marveloneshot #marvel one shot #loki oneshot #fanfiction with smut #smut #marvelsmut #angst #enemies to lovers #lokioneshot #requested #request

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enjennie · 4 years ago

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In The Limelight [chenle x reader]

Summary: Tutoring the CEO’s son, when you’re barely interested in business. And falling for him, when you knew nothing about love.

Genre: Fluff. Rich kid!Chenle Tutor!Reader

Warnings: None

a/n: not proofread! I’ve been in a slump lately ☹ my works haven’t been satisfying me but I hope you enjoy this! btw omg this is a reupload bc the first time... somehow, the paragraphs were jumbled up?

“Y/N, there are flowers on your desk,” your classmate gestures behind them to the classroom you were headed to before quickly passing by. You could only nod, a little taken aback by the sudden information you received. Flowers? As far as you know, Valentine’s had passed, so has white day and it’s definitely not your birthday.

But as you enter your classroom, the bundle of flowers catching your eyes, you knew one thing for sure was from who it was. As you approach your desk, you lift the thoughtful gift and inspect the small card attached to the string that tied it beautifully together. ZCH, it read in cursive.

“How was your day?” Chenle’s voice can be heard from the other line, the smile on his face almost something you can hear along with it.

“It was great! Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re delightful,” you beamed, eyes landing at the arrangement that now sat on your vanity. Chenle chuckles, his laughter sending serotonin to run through your body.

“Not a problem, I’m glad you like them,”

“Though I’d appreciate if you gave them to me yourself,” you cheekily continued. Chenle could only smile, his face softening at your request. It was a simple request. Yet, he couldn’t do it.

When you notice the silence that follow, you immediately regret what you said. You desperately try to backtrack, sputtering out words. “Well- I mean-, It’s fine- Thank you, still! I love them,”

Chenle hums, “I know. Don’t worry. You’ll wait though… right? It won’t be long,”

You plant your feet to your carpeted floor and nod, even if he can’t see you. “Of course, Lele,”

Zhong Chenle is the son of the most respected CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Shanghai the entire world. Chenle was the next in line to the company. After his brother had expressed how the business world didn’t interest him, the responsibility immediately fell into Chenle’s hands. And even if music was his love and calling, he had to let it go as to not disappoint his father.

Chenle had accepted it some time ago, going to school only for the degree so he could be eligible to own the business. He accepted the fact that he was going to be living the life his father made for him, not one he made for himself and it was the hardest pill to swallow. But things changed when he met you. There was more purpose to the things he does, it wasn’t just for nothing. Life had gone from monochromatic to colorful.

“Miss, Y/N. Mr. Zhong just moved and he has to take this class to pass the semester. I trust you can fill him in with our module? Mr. Zhong, this is Miss. Y/N, she scored the highest during midterms,” your world economics professor had marched towards you after class, a tall boy following behind her. He looked just as oblivious as she did, to the sudden weight and pressure being put on you.

You merely nod and say a simple hello, not being able to say anything else. It wasn’t a question, this was a demand. Jeez if I was gonna teach your student I should get a portion of your pay. You thought bitterly. At the time, you were struggling to juggle a part-time job at a café while also maintaining your grades to keep your scholarship.

When your professor left you two, the boy kept his hands buried in his pockets. His clothes were semi-casual and his hair was styled nicely. Who the hell moves halfway through the year?

“So, Mr. Zhong-“ you take your books into your arms and lazily sling your bag over your shoulder, heading towards the door with him trailing behind you.

“Chenle-, You can call me Chenle,” he finally spoke, startling you a little with how cool and soft his voice is as opposed to his striking visual that intimidated you at first.

“Nice to meet you, Chenle,” you give him a smile.

You were gonna be around this guy for who knows how long, might as well try to be his friend. Maybe it’ll make the teaching less of a chore.

“Wrong,” you huffed, marking his essay and adding in annotations. “Chenle, remember there is a specific way to start these essays and that’s by defining the terms you’re using,”

The boy sat opposite of you, arms crossed and back against the couch comfortably. You were in a café. The café you worked in, to be precise. Your schedule today overlapped with Chenle’s and as much as you didn’t want him to see you slaving around, you also couldn’t miss this paycheck at the café. You gave him an essay to write just to check on his phrasing and structure and left to buss some tables and serve orders. But when you came back, Chenle barely wrote anything and could care less about it.

“Can we not study today?” he whined.

You and Chenle have been meeting each other for a month now, and you’d soon learned about the type of boy he is, the life he led. In ways you didn’t expect to.

The first time you found out about Chenle’s reputation was through the newspaper. No, not the school newspaper. Not even the local newspaper. But on the Wallstreet Journal, when you had to grab material from any recent article for a class. Chenle’s name floated along with the words ‘Young entrepreneur’ and their company’s name. You gasped so loud you had to excuse yourself from the library and leave in a hurry. That afternoon you smacked him on the shoulder with your thick world econ textbook.

“You’re from a family of business corporates and you’re learning world economics from someone who crammed the exam?” you exclaimed. He stared at you blankly, book in hand and pen in the other.

“And you don’t pay me!” you added. The fact that you’ve been tutoring someone as rich as Chenle just didn’t make sense to you. Why not go to a professional? Instead, he was here with a sleep deprived college student who sometimes mixes up business terms just because she couldn’t care any less. World Economics was a mandatory for you. You studied to pass, sadly.

“I could start paying you, name the price,” he said easily. But you shook your head.

“I didn’t mean it that way, sorry. I actually don’t care about the money,” You led him to the picnic bench with the table outside school grounds and propped your book on it along with your bag before taking out your bento box. “Just blows my mind how you won’t just pay for the classes. I don’t teach that well-” you continue.

“I like you, though,” Chenle calmly interjects. You look up at the boy, movements being halted by his bold statement.

“Pardon?” you felt the need to have him clarify what he said. The boy leaned across the table, over your textbooks and notes. “I like you,” Chenle repeated himself, but the impact it had on you was just as powerful and hit you hard. Your heart was doing somersaults.

Chenle’s eyes grew thin as he smiled, backing away from you and sitting back down.

“So, chapter 12,” he starts flipping his book nonchalantly, leaving you out of breath with a heart hammering in your chest.

“What do you mean not study today? You have an upcoming quiz with Mr. Byun this Friday and mind you, that man searches for wrongs, not rights,” you raised a finger at him, shaking it matter-of-factly.

“No, let me help you. Do you usually run the café on your own?” he closes the book and takes his essay from your hand. You’re left slack jawed.

“No. I- Johnny couldn’t come in today,” you explained. Suddenly, you were stammering as if explaining to your boss. At first, you were doubting if it was the same Chenle you were reading about in the articles. The boy you were tutoring didn’t come off as someone who would be running corporates and buying stocks or whatever. He was more laid back and relaxed. Aside from the way he dressed, nothing gave it away that he was indeed the CEO’s son. But there were times where you got a dominant feel from him. Times when he stood with much authority and didn’t accept no for an answer. In those moments, you realize how Chenle’s presence alone demanded respect.

Soon enough, you found yourself behind the counter with Chenle beside you tying the apron to himself. He looked cute, somehow. The way he smiled at customers and tried giving them their recommendations set butterflies run free in your stomach, you almost swooned. He didn’t get much studying done that day, but you surely did. You learned the fact that you falling slowly but surely with Zhong Chenle.

There were two chapters you’re left to cover. In the short month and a half, you managed to teach Chenle six month’s worth of topics. Seeing him every other day made Chenle a familiar face to see around. Of course, you never actually got to see him around campus when you weren’t tutoring him. It left you wondering if you were actually teaching a ghost. But all doubts went away when the girls in your class started whispering about the cute boy waiting outside class. You quickly found out it was Chenle who they were talking about, and he was there for you. It was safe to say he wasn’t a ghost and is in fact real.

Carrying his book bag, he was stood against the wall with reading material under his arm.

“Chenle, we don’t have a schedule today,” you walk up to him, trying to avoid the dozen pairs of eyes that watched you. Chenle nodded, “Sorry, I won’t be here tomorrow. My father is bringing me on a business trip,” he states.

It wasn’t new for you to hear this coming from Chenle. Just the other week, his father brought him along to Japan for a company deal and Chenle came back with a little keychain souvenir for you. The same keychain dangled from your bag now as you both walked to the exit of the building. “Are you free?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t bring my book with me tod-“ you begin searching in your bag, even if you knew it wasn’t there. You were just trying to ignore the way his question made your heart jump.

“I mean… for dinner. Are you free for dinner?” he places a gentle hand on yours, stopping you from looking further in your bag. Chenle’s bold movements sometimes took him by surprise as well. He quickly retracts his hand, shoving it in his pockets. You let go of your bag, placing your hands on either side of you.

“Why?” you squinted at him suspiciously.

Chenle’s smile is small, but doesn’t go unnoticed by you as he turns his head towards his car then back down at you. “Listen, you don’t have to overanalyze this. I just want to treat you,”

Chenle had thought about it a hundred times or more, before finally making a decision. Although you’ve been seeing each other in cafes and libraries for some time now, he didn’t want to consider those as dates. Sure, it gave him time to admire you up close and get to know you but he wanted you to know his true intentions. The only problem was boy, was he a wuss. And were you oh so dense!

Despite the subtle and not so subtle hints he’s given you, you remained clueless about his feelings. Unsure, confused and just downright oblivious. From the way he looked at you to how he vocally told you he liked you. You shoved everything under the rug, afraid that this boy was just toying around with you and having a laugh. He found it cute.

It didn’t matter that you were in your school clothes, carrying about three thick books in your shoulder bag. He thought you looked stunning. You ate at a pizzeria just in town and he expressed how it tasted just like pizza from Italy. You said you wouldn’t know the difference since you’ve never been, and had a laugh about it.

The walk from his car to your apartment wasn’t that far, it’s just that he had to park a little further since there was no more space left in front. As you walked together, you noticed how the vibe and atmosphere between you two that developed as the night deepened, was different. More lax, comfortable. Like friends? You were both silent, until Chenle piped up.

“I lied, I didn’t just want to treat you,” he muttered, looking into the distance of your quiet street.

You turn your face towards him and you catch a glimpse of his face in the moonlight before looking away. He’d taken your bag from you and had it around his shoulder now. Him in his white polo shirt and brown suit jacket. He was always dressed like he was attending some kind of formal event. That’s Chenle for you. Mr. CEO’s son.

“Then?” you prompted him to continue.

Chenle averts his attention towards you as you finally reached the front of your apartment. You both stop walking, facing each other with the moon as your spotlight. You look at him from the light of the moon, it illuminated Chenle’s features perfectly. You would be able to inspect him when he studied, but each look at him made you breathless every time you had to look away. Much like right now.

“I wanted to take you out. Like, on a date,” Chenle confesses.

You could never wrap your head around how bold Chenle could be. Always leaving you flustered after saying such things, this boy was your weakness. But you didn’t give in. At least, you tried not to.

“Oh,” was your only response as you put your hands together, looking up at the tall boy. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that heat was rushing to your cheeks and ears by now. You could practically feel your blood flowing through your body, making you feel warm all over. “It was fun, I enjoyed it,” you shyly admit.

Chenle takes a step forward, raising his hand to palm your cheek gently. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten this close. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for my world yet,” his voice is lower, cool. Like wind.

You part your lips slightly, willing yourself to breathe. Your breath is unstable, shaky. This time, you take a step forward. “Are you underestimating me?” You don’t know where the surge of confidence came from, but you were thankful for it. The look of surprise is quickly melted into amusement as this was definitely the first time you ever made the second move to the dozens of times he’d left you flustered.

Chenle dips his head down close to your face. Eyes trained on each other, you tried to get yourself to breathe. He looked alluring, and you watch his eyes drop to your lips. Your head had become blank, nothing in mind. Just him. Chenle, and nothing else. His calm eyes, button nose and plump lips that you so very badly wanted to press against yours. “Are you sure?” he whispers.

You close the space between you and Chenle, lining your lips with his and connecting them together. The sensation almost sending you on your knees, you grab onto his shoulder for support and he holds you up by the waist, swiftly wrapping his strong arms around you. It felt like such a big relief, you almost sighed.

When you pulled away, Chenle’s smile comes into view as you fluttered your eyes open. He places his hand at the back of his head and scratches, suddenly becoming shy. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“You’re something else,” you giggle, smacking his arm before snatching your bag from his shoulder and turning on your heel to leave. You feel his hand against yours, forcing you to stop. “I’ll see you after my trip?” he asks.

“Same time… for class,” you reply, looking back at him with a cheeky smile. Chenle lets your hand go, a smitten smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest. Zhong Chenle wished things were simpler. He wanted to give you the world.

“It’s just a black tie party and my dad’s forcing me to come with a date,” he fixes himself in the mirror. He looked handsome, as always. In an all-black suit that fit him perfectly. Dressed like he had someplace to be, people to meet.

You sat on your bed behind him, arms folded and face scrunched up into a frown. A date. Probably someone from a rich family, better than you, his future spouse. They’d have perfect little babies together. All these bitter thoughts were flooding in your brain. When he notices your unusual quietness, Chenle turns to face you and gives you a goofy smile.

“What’s on your mind?” he approaches the bed, placing either hands on the side of you and leaning in close. Chenle could tell when you lied and knew exactly how to make you crack. You pull your knees to yourself and don’t bother hiding the scowl forming on your face. You couldn’t do anything about it. After several talks with Chenle, he explained how much pressure he gets from the media and his family. How dating even became a hassle because of how the pressure would then be shared with his partner.

For years, it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t find anyone that sparked his interest, and only had meaningless one night stands. He was fine with it, really. But all of that changed when he met you. For once, he wanted to go after something he loved. Not let it go, unlike what he did with his own passion for the sake of his father’s dream and business.

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts in your head and throwing them out. “Nothing. I know it’s just business. Message me when you get home?” you didn’t need to ask, but you still do. Chenle always kept you updated, whether if it was how the party he’s in has a chocolate fountain or if the bathrooms have automatic toilets. It was always bizarre hearing about his stories and taking a peek of what his world is like. The world of corporates. You weren’t ready for it, and Chenle knew.

The secrecy of your relationship didn’t last very long, soon enough it’s got media questioning who Chenle was seeing and your status. After a few run-ins with the paparazzi, you both decided it would be best if your meetups were more discreet. Luckily, the cameras hadn’t captured your face yet, but it was only a matter of time until they did.

To top it all off, the news had spread across campus. Girls left and right claiming they were the one dating Chenle, it didn’t bother you too much. You had a scholarship to keep and a job to go to. Sometimes, you’d find a single rose and a letter waiting for you in class, or at the café. Of course, you and Chenle had wrapped up the tutorial classes and he was able to pass the exam. He was one step closer to his degree, but happy wasn’t the word to describe him.

He yearned to be with you, have you in his arms and spend hours together just like you used to before things got complicated. Chenle grew lonely without your presence as months passed. Nonetheless, you hung onto the string of hope that maybe one day people wouldn’t care so much. That you could take all the criticism, the heat.

It was around 2am when your phone rang, disturbing your slumber. It was a Friday night and you took it upon yourself to catch up on some sleep after the horrendous exam week you just faced. Chenle had said goodnight hours ago. You wondered who could be calling at such an ungodly hour.

You pick up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Chenle’s voice filled your ear. Your eyes snap open and you shot up from your bed, pulling the phone away from your ear. Sure enough, it was him. Lele, with a little heart beside the name.

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask worriedly. His voice sounded slow and there was rustling behind him.

Chenle lets out a groan, and your heartbeat picks up its pace. You knew better than to think Chenle would cheat, but it was definitely worrying hearing this without any idea what was going on. “I miss you,” he breathed, voice raspy and low. You couldn’t keep the smile from appearing on your face. In the darkness of your room, your heart swelled with joy. “I miss you too, Chenle,” you whispered back.

Distinct voices come through the line, and you make it out to be Jeno and Jaemin. They’re bickering and you hear a guitar in the mix. “We’ll leave you here, Chenle,” Jaemin calls to his friend before you hear a door close.

“Why did you call?” you ask but you were happy that he did.

“Because I can’t be there with you. Even if it’s all I want right now,” he confessed. Your smile faltered and a hint of sadness falls upon your face as he continues. He was obviously drunk, but Chenle has always been really honest because he couldn’t lie. These days however, you haven’t had the time to talk much and you knew there was a lot on his mind. It hurt to know that it’s been this, and you couldn’t do much about it. “I just want to tell everyone about us. Screw what they think, YN. You’re perfect to me,”

Hearing his words gave you a glimmer of hope. You wished he was right, you wished you could believe it.

“Chenle-“ you sighed. “I want that too,”

There was a moment of silence before his voice came through again and you thought he’d passed out drunk already. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve sacrificed so much for my father, but you’re not going to be one of them,”

His words brought the smile back to your face, tears welling up in your eyes from how happy you were to hear them. It seemed at this moment that you could battle anything, because you were with Chenle. Everything would be alright. He was here and you are too, it’s the two of you against the world.

“Tomorrow, let’s make it official,” Chenle proposed.

You bring your hand up to your lips and bite on your nails, now fully awake more than ever. “Okay,” you agreed. Chenle grins, getting up from his bed. “I’m coming over,” you can hear him walking around now, keys jangling and shoes on his wooden floor.

“You can’t drive-“ you hurriedly try to stop him, keeping in mind his state.

“I don’t drive a Tesla for nothing,” he chuckles. “I’ll be there soon,” The outgoing beeping of the call followed afterwards as he ended the call. The realization hit you a moment later.

The next day, you and Chenle arrived in school together. He stayed the night, carrying a change of clothes in his bag. For someone who was smack drunk, he sure did pack well.

From the moment you stepped out of his car, many students were around to watch. Exchanging whispers and staring, your cheeks set aflame when Chenle pulls you by the arm, your hands connecting between you and threading together naturally. It drew the attention of many onlookers and you chewed on your bottom lip, not used to the attention.

“They’re staring,” you whisper close to him.

“Let them,” He responds. Chenle tilts your head up to meet his gaze before planting a lingering kiss on your lips, confirming people’s already forming suspicions. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

#zhong chenle #chenle #chenle fluff #nct chenle #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct fluff #chenle au #nct dream au

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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

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Impulse: Part 1 (Javier Pena x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Pena as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: ANGST! Explicit drug and alcohol abuse from the beginning, depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

A/n: My first ever Javi fic, of course I had to make it the angstiest thing I’ve written in a long time!! This is part one of the first part of the story which is also the end of the story... just had to make it confusing for you.

Disclaimer: I do not have any experience with cocaine or addiction, all writing is based on my own research and is not a good representation of how it really is! Don’t do coke kids, it’s never good.

Part 2

---

Four in the morning, the sun was just above the horizon and you were stumbling home from yet another party. Enough tequila swam through your system that you didn’t really think about the wellbeing of your neighbor when you tapped on his door. You wanted to keep going. Javier, you decided, would make the perfect company. And maybe you could continue that kiss you had not stopped thinking about since it happened four months ago! You grinned devilishly at the thought and knocked harder on the door.

“Javi! Javier!” You rapped on the door. “Javier Peña, abra la puerta!” You sang, leaning all your weight on the door as your world span fast around you, “Javi,”

“What?” Javier opened the door suddenly, causing you to fall into him. You laughed as you caught yourself on his arm. You had woken him up, he was dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants with his hair bushy and wild.

“Hola!” You grinned up at him, not hiding the way you checked him out. You were obviously drunk and high, eyes red and shining brightly even in the dim light of the apartment block hallway. Javi wrinkled his nose as the smell of you hitting him, tequila and cigar smoke clung to you.

“Again?” Javi sighed heavily. This was the third time this week you had woken him up, accidentally or on purpose, coming home drunk. He was starting to worry about you.

“Si,” You grinned from ear to ear, You were in more of a state than last time. For one you were still speaking Spanish, something Javi had rarely ever heard you speak. You must have been with your local friends, he surmised. “No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido!”

“It’s not fun, you’re a mess. Get in here,” He pulled you by the arm into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“Eres enojado?” You asked, still grinning. You walked backwards into his apartment, tripping down the step and landing with a thud on his leather couch. You cackled with laughter.Javier frowned and put his hands on his hips, of course he was annoyed at you! It was four in the morning and you both had work the next morning. You dramatically flopped back on his couch and huffed at his grumpy attitude, “It’s only polite, Javi! They gave it to me!”

“It’s poison!! He exclaimed, “Why would you do that to yourself?”

“It’s helping,” You proclaimed.

“It’s not helping anyone, you’re gunna fuck up sooner or later.” Javi warned, as he had done many times before.

“I got that list,” You protested, “That was helpful!”

“And what will you do when they work out that you stole it?”

“No lo sé,” You shrugged. You reached into your pocket and grabbed the last of the coke you had been given. You wanted a little more. You pulled the tin out of your pocket and placed it on the coffee table at your feet.

“You-,” Javi started before he noticed what you were doing, instantly he was on you, “Para!” He exclaimed as he snatched the coke from your hand before you had time to open it.

“Necesito!” You whined, pouting at him. You were lying, you didn’t need it. You wanted it, a lot.

“No,” Javi snapped.

“Lo siento, Javi,” You pleaded with him, eyes locked onto the packet in his hand.

“You’re not though, are you? Fucking look at me!” He yelled. You startled and looked up at him as tears pricked your eyes. “Quit it. Now. You know what this shit does, stop it. Whatever you think you’re doing is not worth it, okay?”

“Pero-“

“No. Me vale!” He cut you off. “You’re better than this, Y/n,”

You sustained eye contact for a moment. The room was deathly quiet, he glared at you with fierce intensity. You had never seen him so angry, if you weren’t so drunk you would have instantly buckled under the pressure. The only thing your drunk brain could think of was how hot he looked, you wondered how rough he would be with you if he was this angry. You couldn’t help the snigger that crept up in your throat at that thought. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the laugh, Javi rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” You laughed, “It’s just you can’t look at me like that and not fuck me!”

“Jesus christ,” Javier pinched the bridge of his nose. What little patience he had for you was running out fast. You continued to laugh.

“Can I stay here?” You asked.

“Take the couch,” Javi waved you off, his back turned heading back to his bedroom.

“I can’t sleep with you?” Your voice was laced with innuendo, he knew what you wanted. A part of him was tempted, your dress left very little to the imagination, but he knew he couldn’t do it.

“You’re drunk and high,” Javier said plainly, “and we’ve spoken about this before. No,” He was firm with you. He hated having to reject you for a second time but he wasn’t a complete monster. He wouldn’t sleep with you in this state.

“Worth a try,” You laughed, thankfully giving up quickly. Javi shook his head and walked away again, “Muchos gracias, Javi,” You called after him. He shut the door.

You woke up as the early morning sunlight pushed through the windows. You groaned and turned over, finding you were not in your bed but on a couch. Startled, you sat up and nearly screamed when you recognised the apartment as Javier’s. Luckily you were still fully dressed with your shoes still on, nothing had happened. Memories of how you got there were blurry, you remembered knocking on his door but had blacked out after that.

The clock on the wall said it was six am. You could go upstairs to your own bed clean up and hope that maybe Javi wouldn’t hear you and confront you about it.

You stood up from the couch, trying not to think about all the things the man had done on it, and grabbed your jacket from the ground. As you stood up the strength of your hangover kicked in, you grumbled. That was when you noticed the discarded coke packet on the counter. You stopped. You knew you shouldn’t pick it up, you didn’t need it. But the taste caught at the back of your throat and you found yourself wanting it. It was undeniably addictive, you had promised yourself you wouldn’t take it this far but the foul substance had made its bed.

“Go home,” Javi’s voice broke you out of the trance. He was only wearing sweatpants, hair mussed up from sleep that you had most definitely disturbed more than once. He pulled the cocaine off the table and threw it into the trash before you could reach it. You gulped, shame rising like hot steam through your lungs. You grabbed your things and left, running straight upstairs to your own apartment.

It was still early but you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep again. Shame was swirling up in your throat. How ironic that a DEA agent was addicted to the thing she was meant to be stopping? But you weren’t addicted, you reasoned with yourself, you were fine. This was no different to when you lived off Redbull for a month during finals, it was a matter of changing some coping mechanisms. It was a reaction to the stress of being so close to Escobar yet so still so far. You could change it, you had control.

You made a coffee, instant and black. It was bitter and disgusting but it would keep you awake. You collapsed onto your tired old couch and flicked on the tv to a telenovela rerun. You barely understood what was going on but the hilarious overplayed drama was light enough to stop you swimming into the depressing pool of thoughts currently threatening to drown you.

Eight o’clock came and you were ready to go to work. You were used to this routine now, hungover and tired, you knew you weren’t at your best but until this morning nobody knew about your slow descent into chaos. You weren’t surprised to find Javi’s truck gone without you. All you could remember from last night as how mad he was, and his face this morning only proved it. You dreaded seeing him.

Luckily, you were spared the hassle of public transport by Steve who trundled down the stairs after you and offered you a ride. The conversation was light and everything seemed normal for a moment. You got to work, Steve ran off after a call from Javier leaving you with a mountain of paperwork to hunt through. For once you didn’t care, paperwork didn’t judge you.

A few hours passed and the boys returned. You did your best to ignore them while they bickered, hoping that you could melt into the background, until someone tapped on your desk.

“Hey, I’m talking to you Rookie,” Javi’s voice made you look up. “Come on, we’re going,”

Before you could say anything he threw your jacket at you and you had no choice but to follow him outside. You tried to rack your brain for why Javi would be taking you anywhere today, especially after this morning. You had expected him to ground you, to be impossibly angry at you, not take you out. You climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and Javi didn’t say a word. He didn’t look particularly angry, he looked stressed but he had looked like that since the day you got down here. He was silent, letting the radio play between you, when all of a sudden he reached over and turned it off.

You looked over at him, expecting him to start his lecture but he didn’t. He let the silence sit between you for the rest of the journey. Somehow it was worse, you’d rather he got mad at you and shouted. It was just unsettling.

Finally you pulled into the embassy, you flashed your badges at the gate and parked. Fear was starting to grow now. Was he going to get you fired? He wouldn’t bring you down here for that surely? He would have called and said what he wanted, he hated coming down here unless he had to. You stayed quiet, too scared to ask, and followed him inside.

Javi greeted the assistant at the door, as smooth as ever somehow managing to melt her in her chair in five seconds. You smiled and waved to her, she scowled at you as soon as Javi had turned his back.

“He’ll be in a minute,” The girl called after you as you entered the Ambassador’s office. You took one chair, Javier took the other, in front of the large mahogany desk.

Unlike Steve and Javi you didn’t see the ambassador often, often left in the office while they had meetings about things higher than your post. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest you thought it might burst. You rubbed your hands on your jeans and fidgeted in your seat. Why in hell were you here?

Before you could bring up the courage to finally ask Javi the Ambassador walking into the room. You stood up immediately to shake his hand, Javi stayed seated.

“Y/n, nice to see you again,” The ambassador smiled kindly as he shook your hand. “Agent Peña,” He greeted the agent next to you, who nodded casually.

“You too, Sir,” You tried your best to sound confident. The Ambassador sighed heavily as he sat in the leather chair, took a sip of the water at his side and began the meeting.

“So, I got the call from your coordinators this morning, they’re coming down on Monday for the review. I thought we should have this meeting together to discuss things before they come down,”

Your six month review! That was what you had forgotten. Half relieved that your mentor hadn’t brought you down here to completely humiliate you, you smiled and nodded. With everything going on you hadn’t noticed the months fly past so fast, you barely remembered what day it was anymore.

The Ambassador carried on with the meeting, unaware of your panicking. You nodded along, answering his questions in short yes or no answers, he then moved to Javier. As your mentor he was the one in charge of delivering your progress onto your coordinators. You watched him speak, sound not registering anymore. You hoped to god that he wouldn’t throw you under the bus and tell the entire truth, he knew how much this meant to you surely he wouldn’t.

Nervous, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. You almost had a heart attack when you felt something inside. A small metal tin, rounded and rusted. You immediately knew what it was and froze. There was coke in your pocket. Javi gave you a sideways glance, as he noticed you stiffen up suddenly.

You wracked your mind for where the hell the tin had come from, until you remembered. This wasn’t your jacket, Maria had given it to you a few months ago and never asked for it back. You hadn’t worn it before today and had no idea that your friend’s stash lay inside the pockets. You tried to stay rational, tried to listen to the important conversation happening around you but your hand stayed clamped around the drug in your pocket. It would help you concentrate, it could calm you down. You could take it and nobody would notice.

“I- I’m sorry can you excuse me for a moment?” You blurted out, interrupting the ambassador. He frowned at you, surprised by your interruption. You had gone white with panic, obviously clutching at something in your pocket but he didn’t think anything of it. He nodded and you ran out the room before he could verbally release you.

You tried to remain calm as you ran through the halls of the embassy, it seemed like everyone was watching you. They knew exactly what you were doing, they were judging you. You ran into the first women’s bathroom you could find, quickly checked nobody was in any stalls, and locked the door behind you.

Throwing the package on the sink like it was burning through your hand, you stood over it, watching it intensely like it could jump away at any moment. The voice in your head kept tempting you, calling you weak and useless, to do it to get rid of it. Nobody would know if you took it. You’ve given in this far why not do it. It will help you calm down. Take it.

As if you were possessed, you unwillingly opened the tin and poured the powder onto the surface. There wasn’t much there, barely a pinch full, hardly anything at all. You couldn’t just leave it there now, someone would definitely know it was yours. They all knew why even bother hiding it anyway. You should take it. You were too weak to resist it. Take it.

And you did. The chemical shot straight to your brain giving you the brilliant feeling you had been missing. You sighed in a relief as you felt every anxiety fade from your body. It wasn’t that bad, you feel better with it, the voice in your head said. You weren’t wrong. You did feel better. You looked it too, your cheeks had colour again, you smiled and laughed to yourself as it took hold.

You brushed away the excess powder and unlocked the door. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Javi leaning against the opposite wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, judging you with a cocked eyebrow. He had been waiting for you. You sighed and rolled your eyes immediately walking away from him.

“Don’t stand outside the women's bathroom’s Javi. It's creepy,” You snapped as you passed him.

“You missed a bit,” Javi commented, following closely behind you.

“Fuck off,” You grumbled. Despite yourself you wiped your sleeve over your nose. He was right.

“Shooting up in a bathroom is real low, Rookie, even for you,” He snarled. You continued walking down the hall, ignoring him. You were as angry at your actions as he was but you didn’t have control anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you,” Javi grabbed your arm and sharply pulled you backwards, pressing your back into the wall and trapping your body between his.

“You’re hurting me!” You complained, shoving him off you with as much force as you could give. It didn’t get you far as he pushed you to the wall again with as much force. Your back slammed against the cold stone hard, no doubt bruising it.

“Then listen. What the fuck is the matter with you?” He snarled, “Doing that shit here? Or anywhere in fact! You are completely out of control,” You ground your teeth, seething with anger, “Do you have no respect for yourself?” You struggled against him, trying to get away again to avoid the question, Javi held you in place. “Not going to say anything?” You looked away, purposely turning your cheek to him, “Get a fucking grip or I’m sending you home,” He growled.

You didn’t answer, staring at the patterned tile floor. Finally he gave up. With a grunt he let you go and stalked away down the corridor.

As he disappeared around the corner, a tidal wave of anger and frustration flooded your system. You kicked the line of chairs next to you, crying out curses as you sent them flying across the corridor. The metal clattered against the stone drawing people out of their offices, they all stood from their doorways and watched you, judging you. You heart hammered in your chest, chest heaving for air and you glared back at them all. You let out a deep breath and turned on your heel, leaving the mess behind you, and walked outside.

Despite himself, Javi had waited for you in the parking lot. You jumped into the passenger seat without a word, slamming the door hard to get your point across. You couldn’t tell if you were sweating from anger or the drugs coursing through you. Neither of you said a word for the journey. Javi had said he needed to, and you weren’t able to string together a coherent sentence for everything you wanted to scream at him yet.

You were too focussed on the music playing from the stereo to really notice where you were going. The rhythms and lyrics seemed to float around you and soak into your skin. You didn’t see Javi’s furious scowl when you unknowingly started to dance in your seat, something you couldn’t help but do when listening to Columbian radio no matter your mental state. You were having a good time until the car stopped and the music was cut abruptly. Snapping out of your trance you looked around and realised you were at your apartment.

“Get out. You’re done for today,” Javi said, his voice was eerily calm and you knew to be terrified. Quiet Javi was always the angriest.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“Get out!” He leant over you and pushed the door open. You frowned, but slipped out the truck and did as you were told. Javi pulled the door shut behind you and rolled away, leaving you standing on the sidewalk opposite the apartment building completely dumbfounded.

You were stuck to the sidewalk, staring at the building. The sun beat down on you, scorching your skin yet you couldn’t feel it. You were numb to everything.

Your first thought was to find Maria and get more coke to hide further into yourself and avoid the awful shame creeping up your neck. The speed the thought entered your head petrified you. Your control was slipping through your fingers like sand and your body was screaming to move. Everything inside you told you to give up, that this was the tipping point and you might as well jump because what was the point in pretending anymore. If Javi knew what was the point in trying to cover up how much that narcotic had taken over your life. There was no point at all, you might as well enjoy the feeling whilst you could.

You turned to leave, letting go of all self control. Your legs knew where to take you, you didn’t even need to look where you were going. But you did, when three steps from your original position you crashed into a woman carrying a bag of groceries. She yelped, the sudden sound snapping you back to reality.

“What are you doing standing out here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Connie startled you when she touched you, you had barely noticed her approaching. She frowned, concerned, when she took in your glazed appearance, “Sweetheart?”

“I’m okay,” Your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes.

“Oh darling, come inside. Come on,” Connie walked across the road, expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, you wanted to run in the opposite direction. You knew if you went inside you would have to tell her what was happening, you didn’t want to make her as mad as Javi was already. “Y/n? Sweetheart you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”

“I fucked it all up,” You whimpered as you began to cry.

“Come with me, I’ll get you some water,” Connie bartered, still you didn’t move. Too scared to admit to her what was going on, “Just come inside, please,”

Finally, you nodded and followed Connie into the building. She walked you into the apartment, sat you on the couch and left to get a glass of water. You hadn’t stopped crying, everything in you was telling you to go and get more to calm yourself down again. You knew not to believe the thoughts but they scared you tremendously. You have really gone too far now.

Connie passed you the water, and you drank it gladly. She crouched down in front of you, pressed a hand to your forehead and checked your pulse trying to work out what was wrong with you.

“Did you take something?” She asked. You tried to shake your head and deny it but the way she’s looking at you, sternly but with so much care in her eyes, you couldn’t lie to her. Your no turns into a yes and you instantly recoil from her each touch, hiding in your hands. “What was it?”

“It was only meant to help,” You cried into your hands.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened,” She pressed.

“Maria gave me some coke, and it was fine and fun and it helped me get that list from them,” You started to babble, all your words tumbling from your mouth before you could get them into any sensible order, “and everyone was so excited and then I went out kept doing it and then yesterday I ended up at Javi’s and I was tired and-,”

“Slow down,”

“It’s my six month review, and I got so worried then I found it in my pocket! I didn’t know it was there and I just did it! Then Javi caught me again and he kicked me out here!”

“Do you know how much you took?”

“Like a tiny bit but I’ll be fine in an hour but-,” Tears slipped from your eyes once again, “What am I going to do?”

Connie didn’t know what to say. She knew you had been going out more with some new friends, Steve had complained because he was always woken up by you when you came back drunk from a party. That's all she thought was going on, you were partying, drinking, like you should at your age. But as she had come to learn, a lot of things in Columbia were not what they seemed. It seemed the darker side of life here had managed to get it’s claws well and truly into you. It broke her heart to see you like this, so broken up.

You stayed with Connie for the rest of the afternoon, sat on the couch riding out the end of you high. TV kept you company and Connie chewed her nails trying to work out what to do. She thought should call Steve, but if Javier was the one to drop you off here, he probably already knew. She wondered how long it had been going on for, she didn’t get to see you as much as her husband and his partner, whenever she’d seen you you seemed fine, if a little hungover at times. When she thought about, all three of you had taken on destructive habits to cope with the hell you saw every day. Steve was becoming more aggressive by the week, while she knew she was safe she didn’t like what she saw when he flipped out. Everyone in the building knew about Javier’s escapades and now you. It was upsetting to watch from the outside, she couldn’t imagine what it was really like to go through.

You woke up half an hour later, muddled and more tired than when you’d fallen asleep.

“Feeling better?” Connie asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Feel like shit,” You muttered. Your head pounded and the heaviness still sat in your chest. That was the kicker, the coke could mask feelings very well but every time you sobered up they were still there waiting. You sighed heavily, pushing yourself to sit up where you’d slumped over, and rubbed your face with your sweaty palms. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know sweetie, but I’ll be here to help you,” Connie said kindly, as she sat on the couch next to you. You felt awful for dragging her into all this, yet another person you had let down, ”I think you should tell your boss? Or you’re coordinators, maybe they’ll help,”

“I’ll be sent home!” You protested, tears filling your eyes once again, “I don’t want to go home, not now!”

“You can’t keep it to yourself, it will only get worse,” She said, you nodded sadly and cried on her shoulder as she pulled you in for a hug. “I suggest a hot bath, watch some cheesy movie- I managed to find that Indiana Jones movie on tape. I know you love Harrison Ford,”

“That sounds nice,” You smiled weakly. Connie let you go and grabbed the movie along with a bottle of wine for you. You gathered yourself together, enough to get yourself from Connie’s couch to your own at least.

“I’m sure Steve won’t notice it’s gone. Go and chill out and watch the movie, have a bit of normality for a change. You’ll feel better I promise,”

“Thank you Connie, you’re a really good friend,”

“It’s no problem sweetie, like I said I’m always here for you,”

Connie gave you another tight squeeze before you left. Iin the hallway you heard the clatter of Javi’s keys in his door below. You wanted to apologise to him, you wanted him to help you! You wanted things to go back to how they were before all this but you knew Javi wouldn’t talk to you. He’d displayed his distaste for the people that fell under the powder’s spell before, he wasn’t going to help. He had trusted you to sort it out yourself but now it was abundantly clear you couldn’t.

Once again your brain reminded you how easy it would be to get some more coke to cheer yourself up. You could go downstairs and walk down the street, find one of your friends and be happy again so quickly. You didn’t have to feel this pain.

This time, you ignored it and locked yourself in your apartment. You took yourself to bed immediately, not even bothering to turn on any lights along the journey through the tiny space. You fell on the bed face first. As soon as your body hit the soft material you curled up as tight as you could and began to cry.

You had failed. You had let your team down, let your coordinators down, let your classmates down and let your family down. You didn’t even want to think about the conversation you would have to have with your mom as to why you were coming home six months early from a placement you fought so hard to get. You thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You failed.

Part 2

Translations (disclaimer I'm sorry if these are wrong I've been learning Spanish for all of 3 months hence the limited use)

Abra la puerta - open the door

No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido! - I’m not sorry Javi, it’s fun!

Eres enojado - are you angry?

No lo sé - I don’t know

Para!- stop!

Lo siento- I’m sorry

Pero- but

Me vale - I don’t care

The next part will be out next Friday! Want to get tagged? Let me know!

Tag list: @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @browneyes-djarin @themidnightsun-12

gunna be cheeky and tag some mutuals i think may be interested? @ithinkwehitametaphor @wille-zarr

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