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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

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Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

Joke’s On You (Joker x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, NON-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, knife play, blood play, murder, violence,

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: you’re a part time thief who keeps getting in the Joker’s way. What starts out as rivals quickly turns into something hot and heavy, and before you know it, you’re J’s girl. Whether you want to be or not {based off of this headcanon}

The first time you ever come face to face with the Joker, the clown king himself, is during one of the first night’s you first started to execute your grand idea. You went through a klepto phase when you were a kid, but you never expected you’d return to it, and definitely not on a bigger scale like this.

It wasn’t like you were homeless or right on the poverty line. You had money, quite a bit in fact. One of the perks of being a stripper in the most popular club in Gotham, but there came a certain thrill from stealing from the rich in this city. Sure, you took their money on the stage, did everything you could to make them empty their pockets, but taking their money right out from under their nose was different.

You’re not sure when you came up with the bright idea, but you knew that if you wanted to keep this up and stay out of prison, you had to get smart about this. That was where the Joker came in. That clown ran this city, and you knew that with him around, no one would dare to even notice you. If you made your hits the same time as him, you could get in and out to no one’s knowledge.

It was a solid plan.

Until it wasn’t.

You almost ruin his plans to send a bank up into flames, and your eyes briefly meet his cold green ones before you’re taking off. You half expected to hear the sound of gunshots, even expected to get hurt or worse, but you can hear him telling his thugs to stand down. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by your presence, no real threat, and you’re unsure if you should be offended or not.

You had never seen the man himself up close before, and you’re shocked to realize that he’s taller than you imagined. More intimidating than you imagined. Despite the fact that he barely paid you any mind, you can’t help feeling like he’s going to break into your apartment and slit your throat. You’re a petty thief, nothing like the big criminals in this city, and your run in with him spooks you. It takes a long time for you to fall asleep that night.

You quickly put it behind you though and tell yourself that you just have to be more careful from here on out. It soon becomes obvious that that’s easier said than done. You hadn’t meant to get in his way when he was taking the mayor hostage. It was an honest mistake when you almost kept him from breaking some other danger to society out of Arkham, but the nail in your coffin finally comes when you do prevent him from robbing a bank truck.

You barely ducked in time as a bullet came flying past your head. You’re shaken up, but you manage to force yourself to get the hell out of there before the cops showed up and before the Joker took another shot. You should have known that he was going to be expecting you. The Joker was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them.

You walk right into a trap, and you’re in the bank vault, hands full of money when you feel a sharp tug on your hair. You swallow down a yelp as you’re yanked back into a bare chest, and your eyes widen when a hand curls around your throat. You may not be the best villain in the world, but you’re one that can defend yourself, and the walls of the vault shake as you fight back.

He’s stronger than he looks, but you’re stronger than you look, and you both realize this when he has a gun pressed to your forehead while you have a knife at his throat. Your heart is hammering inside of your chest because not only are you once again face to face with the Joker himself, but he’s seconds away from killing you. You feel like you’re about to throw up, and he’s clearly amused.

He tilts his head at you, red lips parting to reveal a shiny grin, a laugh bubbling in his throat as he presses the barrel of the gun even further into your skin. His purple coat hangs off of him, pale chest heaving and that’s how you know that despite his grin, he’s irritated. Maybe even mad.

“…and what do they call you?”

His voice is deep, and that takes you by surprise. A lot of things about the infamous criminal are taking you by surprise.

“What does it matter? You’re going to kill me anyway, right?”

He hums, stepping closer with a sneer.

“I haven’t quite figured that one out yet…maybe I will when you tell me your name…”

“Well, I haven’t quite figured out what I want to be called,” you honestly told him.

No one but him and his goons knew about you, so you had never counted on anyone else knowing about you either. The thought of an alias never crossed your mind.

“Trying to steal my shine or something? You want to be the big dog around here?”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, and if he had eyebrows, you were sure he’d be raising one at you right now with the look he gave you.

He narrowed his eyes, and in one movement, he ripped your mask from your eyes, making them widen. He looked down his nose at you, taking in your all black attire before finally resting his eyes on your face.

“…or don’t tell me…you’re one of those girlies who thinks she can run around with me?”

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I take it you’re a big fan.”

His tone was mocking, and you had the urge to spit in his face, but you knew that would surely put a bullet in your head, so you simply rolled your eyes.

“Hardly. With you around, no one will even look my way. Your taste for the dramatics allows me to stay below the radar,” you told him.

He hummed at that, tilting his head from side to side as he weighed your explanation in his mind.

“That’s smart, and I gotta hand it to ya, I didn’t think you were smart.”

Your frown deepened at his backhanded compliment, but it was quickly wiped from your face when he tightened his hold on his gun, and your eyes widened.

“Smart, but not smart enough to stay out of my way-.”

He was interrupted as the building shook, and you both turned as gunshots reached your ears. While he was distracted, you slipped out of his grip, ducking in time to miss a bullet before turning the corner. A recognizable shadow passed over the walls, and you ducked into a nearby hallway just as the winged vigilante himself met the Joker as he stepped into the hall.

The air hitting your face reminded you that your mask was gone, and you quietly made your way to the back exit as the sound of fighting and gunshots grew fainter. You released a sigh of relief when you made it outside, and although you didn’t have anything to show for your excursion, at least you had your life.

A thin layer of sweat clings to your skin as you step down off of the stage, feet aching in your heels. A coworker of yours winks at you as she takes your place on the stage, and you wish her luck. Customers were being a bit stingy today, and considering your last heist granted you with nothing, your lack of cashflow today had you more annoyed than usual.

Sure, it was a Tuesday afternoon, but it was still the hottest club in Gotham. Customers of all types of backgrounds frequented the place, and although the old money crowd practically lived here, you had a love hate relationship with their kind. They tended to be the stingiest with their money despite having more than you could ever dream of.

“What time are you off?”

You turned to another girl who worked at the place, Mandy, and threw her a grim look.

“12.”

She grimaced, blue eyes filled with pity as she shook her head.

“Sheesh. Well, that’s what happens when you’re the best dancer in this place,” she said with a shrug. “Your demand is high.”

“High demand and low pay. What a treat,” you sarcastically replied.

She chuckled, but she quickly swallowed it down, eyes glancing past you. The club was already loud, but there seemed to be an uptake in noise, and you turned to find the cause. You froze where you stood, eyes wide and lips parting at the group of people who just stepped into the place.

All of the men varied in size and shape, all dressed in black as they made their way inside like they owned the place. You supposed that in a way they did. Anyone following the footsteps of the Joker probably felt like he could get away with anything. The man in question led the bunch, strutting past patrons with a dark look in his eye, green hair contrasting against his dark red shirt.

You quickly turned back around, squeezing your eyes shut as Mandy let out a low whistle.

“I haven’t seen him step foot in here in forever,” she commented.

You looked to her with a confused frown.

“What?”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve only been here for what, half a year? The Joker used to come in here all the time. They’d get a bit rowdy but what is that when he’s the highest paying customer?”

She shrugged, reaching for a tray of drinks, completely unaware of your internal dilemma. It was almost time to get back on stage.

“Have fun,” she purred, walking past you.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down as you stewed over what you should do. Sure, you were a thief in your spare time, but you couldn’t lose this job. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t walk out of here, so you straightened your shoulders and made your way back to your stage.

You kept an eye out for pale skin and green hair, and you were thankful to find him far on the other side of the room. He and his crew were occupied by another dancer, Mandy serving them drinks. You were thankful and carefully stepped onto the stage.

As usual, you attracted a nice sized crowd, and you made sure to keep your face turned away as you moved around the pole. You were pleased to find that this crowd was more generous with their money, but your satisfaction was short lived when your turned to find your boss gesturing for you to come off the stage. You were confused but did so anyway. He nervously scratched his dark beard as you approached, and you had a sinking feeling in your gut for some reason.

“What is it?”

He grumbled and jerked his head towards the other side of the building, and you hesitantly looked over his shoulder. The Joker’s goons were having a good time tossing money at the dancer on stage, a few of them clearly drunk. The green-haired man, however, wasn’t partaking in the festivities. His unreadable gaze was focused on you, and your heart sank when he didn’t break the stare. You were forced to when your boss spoke.

“He wants a private session with you,” the older man mumbled, and you’d be dumb to miss the fear and concern in his voice.

You internally cursed.

“You’re kidding…”

“…’fraid not. He was very clear in his…request,” he responded.

You both knew that it wasn’t a request. The Joker never requested anything, and you briefly closed your eyes, positive that this was going to be your last night on earth. Your boss placed his hand on your shoulder, gaze sympathetic…and pitying.

“Just do what he says, alright?”

He wasn’t just telling you that to make more money, but to keep you from becoming the clown’s next victim. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your fate was already sealed. With a nod, you strutted past him and made your way to the other side of the room. The Joker’s expression didn’t change as you approached him, and you nervously swallowed. His cold green eyes seemed to follow the gesture, and you took a deep breath.

“Someone request a private room?”

Again, he said nothing, simply tilting his head to the side as his trailed his eyes over your scantily clad form. Some of his posse was still enamored with the dancer before them, but the rest had turned to not so discreetly eye you. They all looked away when the green-haired man stood, and your eyes fell to the sliver of skin that peeked through the top of his shirt, unable to hold his gaze.

“Right this way…”

You didn’t hear his footsteps, but you could feel his presence behind you as you led the way to the back where the private rooms were located. The walk was quiet, thick with tension, and you wondered if it was too late for you to start saying your prayers.

You went in first, blinking at the red glow of the room that came from the neon lights. You were shaking, stomach churning as the door clicked shut behind him. You turned to tell him to get it over with when his hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you to swallow your words. You let out a pained squeak, eyes watering, but his lips swallowed any other noise you threatened to make.

Your eyes were wide as he roughly kissed you, shock coursing through you while his mouth moved against yours. You stumbled back in your heels, but he quickly followed, teeth nipping at you so violently that you tasted blood. You wanted to tell him that this wasn’t that kind of club. This was not in your job description and was not allowed, but you remembered your boss’ words and wondered if he knew that this was what the man wanted?

Even still, you couldn’t go through with this, but his tattooed hands were ripping at your attire before you had the chance to voice what you wanted to say. Your lips were finally free to tell him off, but the only thing that came out was a yelp when his teeth sank into your shoulder. The pain you felt was quickly overshadowed by the pleasure that warmed your stomach when his fingers brushed over you.

You pushed against his chest, but his other hand grabbed your wrist, spinning you around so that your back was pressed to his chest. It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to ponder what was happening until he was already inside of you. One hand was tangled in your hair, face pressed into the seat of the sofa as broken moans escaped your trembling lips.

His free hand was pressed into the skin between your shoulder blades, holding you down while his hips snapped into you over and over again. He was far from gentle, but every harsh stroke only seemed to stroke that fire inside of you. Your lashes were fluttering as he thrust into you, eyes rolling while you tried to make sense of everything.

You could feel his nails pressing into your back as he pinned you down, and your own scraped against the fabric of the couch while choked moans climbed out of your throat. This was far from how you expected your day to go. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that this man was trying to kill you. You fluttered around his unrelenting cock and tried to remember why that was a bad thing.

He let out what sounded like a growl above you, the fabric of his pants pressing into your skin as he ground against you, and his hand in your hair moved to the back of your neck just as the tightening in your stomach snapped. You came around him with an embarrassing scream, going limp beneath him as he fucked you through your climax, diving headfirst into his own.

You collapsed the minute he let you go, vision blurry and throat sore as you heard him zip his pants. You were still shaking, and he was already gathering himself together like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just fucked you delirious. You moved to stand, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but you collapsed back onto the couch.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you heard a low chuckle in his throat. Either way, you didn’t get to ask him because the sound of the door slamming shut reached your ears seconds later.

The next time you ran into that stupid clown, you took great satisfaction in striking him square in the face. You didn’t care that he was surrounded by his band of hired muscle nor that you were currently standing in the middle of a jewelry store, alarm blaring in your ears almost painfully.

He gestured for the men around him to continue looting the place, seeing as they had paused to take in the scene. You knew they would have killed you without hesitation had he told them to. You glared at him as he grinned at you, bat perched on his shoulder.

“We’ve gotta stop running into each other like this,” he lowly said.

“That was for the last time we ‘ran into each other’,” you sneered. “I don’t care who you are, you don’t get to-.”

“Consider it my way of letting you get off easy.”

He chuckled at his play on words, but you weren’t amused in the slightest.

“Get off easy? Are you even crazier than everyone thinks?”

His grin was gone in a flash, and he stepped towards you, tapping his bat against his shoulder as he leaned in. His lips were parted as his eyes bore into your own, and you forced yourself to stand your ground as the scent of him invaded your nose.

“If you recall,” he slowly began. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

You swallowed, jaw clenching as he tapped his finger against your nose.

“The plan was to put a bullet in that pretty little mouth of yours. Does that…ring any bells?”

You pressed your lips together, glancing away as he let out a breathy chuckle.

“Fucking you brought me more satisfaction than killing you ever could,” he deeply said.

You felt heat rise to your face, and he tilted his head, lips brushing against your own as he spoke.

“So…I suggest you keep me satisfied…”

His coat flew behind him as he spun away, stomping towards one of his men to bark orders at them. Anger and humiliation coursed through you as you stomped outside, and you narrowed your eyes as the sound of police sirens drew nearer. With a sneer, you grabbed the knife in your holster before slashing the tires on his van.

That kept you satisfied throughout the rest of the night, but you paid for it dearly the next day at the club. This time, he hadn’t even waited until you were in the room. His hand had curled around the back of your neck as soon as you got to the door, forcing you inside as soon as he opened it.

You had stumbled in your heels, falling to your knees, and he was there before you could even rise. His hand was on your neck the entire time he slammed into you, the carpet scraping against your back. You could hardly breathe, let alone moan as he had his way with you, and you knew that he was genuinely angry this time, and you wondered how he managed to escape the police.

He was punishing you for your little stunt, but God did you love it. Your hands fisted into his bright red button down as he slid into your soaked walls, trying to pull him closer. You heard him hum every time you clenched around his throbbing member, the sound of your arousal reaching your ears. You should have been embarrassed at how wet you were, but the Joker seemed to enjoy it just fine, and besides. You saw no reason to pretend.

Like the last time, he was righting himself as soon as he was done while you lay on the floor, still trying to catch your breath. You let out a soft chuckle as he slammed the door behind him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t even able to talk in the morning.

This little game between the two of you became something of a regular occurrence. You’d make your hits when and where he did his to avoid exposure, and sometimes things would go wrong on his end. Some mishaps were genuine accidents, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the way he’d take out his frustration on you.

He fucked you like an animal, and you loved it because sometimes you couldn’t even form words afterwards. And best of all, he wasn’t trying to kill you anymore…just your vagina.

One day, he didn’t leave as soon as he was done. He stood over you, watching as you fought to control your breathing. When you realized that he wasn’t making any moves to leave, you peeled your eyes open to look up at him from your place on the couch.

“…what?”

You nervously sat up as he dug into his pocket, eyes widening when he pulled out the shiniest bracelet you’d ever seen. He dangled it in front of your face, a low hum escaping him as you admired it.

“Saw this shiny little number in the display. It had my little thief written all over it…”

He jerked it away when you reached for it, so you reached higher, gasping when he closed his free hand around your wrist. You watched as he snapped the expensive piece of jewelry around your arm, and you brushed your fingers over it the minute he let you go.

You were forced to pull your eyes away from it though when he harshly gripped your chin, pulling your head up so that you were looking at him. His green eyes bore into your own, face unreadable as he pressed his red lips together.

“You like it, doll face?”

You couldn’t hold back your grin, and you nodded.

“I love it,” you told him, unaware of the implications behind the gesture.

You started showing up to work with all kinds of new things. A new pair of earrings, a necklace that wasn’t that before, even some new heels that didn’t hurt your feet as much. You figured it was just a perk of fucking the king of Gotham, of keeping him satisfied.

You didn’t know that it went beyond mere satisfaction and thankful gestures.

It was a late night, or early morning depending on how you looked at it. The club was almost at its peak, the early hours of the morning being your busiest. You hadn’t seen J in a few days, but it wasn’t unusual. The man was basically running an empire.

You were servicing a client, a regular who could never stick to one dancer. He had a habit of hopping between the ladies at the club, and it looked like this week, he’d chosen you. The loud music filled your ears as you slid your hands over his shoulder, thighs brushing his as you danced on him. The bass from the music made your body vibrate, and your eyes fell closed as you fisted one of your hands into your hair, chest pushed forwards.

The man had already given you a handsome sum of money, and you knew that if you put on your best show, there was plenty more where that came from. The loud music prevented you from hearing the rise in voices as a new patron entered the club. It also prevented you from taking note of the worried chatter that had only just started to emerge, but it didn’t drown out the sound of a gunshot that you flinching.

However, you didn’t open your eyes because of the gunshot. You opened your eyes at the feel of droplets landing all over your face, hair, and clothes. You faintly registered the sound of screams surrounding you as people fled from the club, tripping over one another. You stumbled back, frozen in place as you stood up straight, hands raised in front of you as you stared at your dead customer in shock.

He was dead.

That much was more than clear, but you were having a hard time wrapping your head around it. Heavy footsteps slowly made their way over to you, and you hesitantly looked over, terrified eyes connecting with familiar green ones. His eyes were wild and crazed, green hair pushed back away from his face, gun swinging back and forth on his finger. He looked good in his all white suit, not a spot of blood on him.

You wished you could say the same.

“Are you insane?” you screamed, legs trembling.

“Well, that’s what they tell me.”

You frowned at him as he threw his head back and cackled, and you shook your head, fighting to clear it.

“Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

He abruptly stopped laughing, slowly lowering his head to gaze at you. His lips parted into a mocking grin.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I leave town on business for a few days, and I come back to find my girl practically screwing some punk for the whole club to see,” he slowly said, voice low and threatening.

Your anger kicked you into gear, and you stomped towards him, a frown on your face.

“I am not your girl, and even if I was…this is my job! You know this is my job-!”

Your words were cut off, and you winced as he tightened his hold on your neck. Your feet were barely grazing the floor as he walked forwards, forcing you back. You dug your fingers into his arm, hitting at him with your free hand, but he acted as if you weren’t even fighting back.

“Those nice earrings you’re wearing says you’re my girl…”

Your stomach churned as you began to realize the serious meaning behind his gifts.

“…that pretty little bracelet on your arm says you’re my girl…”

You looked around in fear, realizing that the club was completely empty save for you, the Joker, and his thugs. You kicked at him as he forced your back onto the stage, his firm body pressing down on yours. His hold was still tight, and you felt tears spring forth as you fought to breathe.

“…and I say you’re my girl. Understand?”

You gave a shaky nod, but it wasn’t enough for him. He lifted you by the neck before slamming you back down, making you wince, and a slow grin spread along his face, revealing his shiny teeth.

“I’ve got a whole lotta toys, sweetheart. I earned those toys. I took those toys. Those toys are mine…”

You watched as he pointed his gun at the dead man still slumped in the chair.

“…and I don’t like people touching my toys.”

You didn’t get a chance to ponder on this turn of events before his lips were harshly pressing against yours. He slammed the gun down next to your head, hands pulling at your attire, and the tears finally spilled over as you fought against him. You weren’t alone, and this was a new level of humiliation that you weren’t okay with.

A man was dead. In fact, you were still covered in his blood, and the Joker’s men were just behind him, intently listening to everything, no doubt. His grip was harsh as he took hold of your wrists, slamming them down beside you. He let one go to grab his gun, pressing it into your lips as you shook.

“You gonna be a good girl? Or do I have to use this again?”

His voice was calm despite the violent implications behind his words, and you shakily shook your head.

He was rougher with you than he had ever been before. Biting you, choking you, and holding you far too tight. Part of you felt like it was done on purpose, not only so you’d get the idea, but so that the rest of his crew would get that you were his too. You cried as he pressed your cheek down onto the stage floor, hips snapping against your backside while harsh grunts left his lips.

You couldn’t handle staring at the Joker’s latest victim while he forced himself into you, so you squeezed your eyes shut. His other hand dug into your hip so harshly, you knew it was going to leave a bruise. As the minutes drew on, it seemed like his ministrations were becoming rougher, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say the sound of your sobs were egging him on.

His grip on your hair when he came had more tears springing to your eyes, and you flinched when his lips brushed your ear.

“Clean yourself up…”

Having only been half on the stage, you collapsed to the floor when he let you go. Your hair and makeup were a mess, and you miserably stared up at him through tear-filled eyes as he tucked his shirt back into his pants, swiftly pulling on his white suit jacket.

“…the cops will be here soon, and you gotta pull yourself together. Huh, doll face?”

He forced your head back as he gripped your chin, and you reluctantly nodded. He roughly dragged his thumb over your lips, smearing what was left of your lipstick before taking his leave, leaving you alone with one dead body, and one bruised one.

You shuffled upstairs, arms aching and eyes tight as you made your way to your apartment. It had been weeks since you’d been back to the club. Your boss, someone you were ever grateful for, told you to come back when you were ready. After all, you’d had someone’s brains blown out right in front of you…on you.

You were fortunate that no one stuck around to see J’s possessive display of ownership, so no one knew what his impromptu murder was really about. Everyone speculated that the customer had crossed the Joker in some way, a business deal gone wrong, but only you knew the truth. Only you knew that the man’s only crime had been paying for your time.

You took a break from stealing from the wealthy too. Not only did you lack the energy, but you couldn’t chance running into the Joker. Had you known what all of those gifts had meant, you never would have accepted them. You didn’t want to be the Joker’s. The last girl who got seriously tangled up with him had ended up almost crazier than he was.

Granted, you heard Harley Quinn was doing better these days, but God. Look how long it took her to get there? The thought of telling him to his face that it was over was a scary one, so you settled for just hiding away in your apartment. He was the Joker, a man who had a lot on his plate, and like he’d said, you were a toy to him. There were plenty of toys out there, and he could easily find another.

You dropped the groceries to the floor as soon as you made it inside, and you groaned as you straightened. Your shoes clicked along the floor as you made your way through your dark apartment. You turned on the kitchen light so that it would be on when you returned, and you made your way through your living room, looking forward to getting out of these clothes.

However, when you turned on the light in the living room, you were startled by the sight of a familiar green-haired villain standing in the corner like some statue. You barely swallowed down the scream that bubbled in your throat, and your eyes were wide as you took him in.

He was wearing a tux, a nice one with a white bowtie and a matching boutonniere. His hair was slicked back, and you weren’t sure where he came from, but you wanted him to go right back.

“I was enjoying a night out on the town…taunting Batsy as I like to do…”

He walked away from the wall as he slowly begun, cold eyes roaming over your apartment.

“…when I realized that I hadn’t seen my little thief for days. Weeks even.”

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t respond, instead opting to make his way around the living room, running his gloved hands over your furniture. You didn’t realize that he was gradually closing the circle, nearing you.

“You haven’t been at work. You haven’t been in my face while you ruin my plans. You’re not hiding from me…are ya, doll face?”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing down your fear as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I’m not hiding from you. We’re just through,” you told him.

He froze, glancing over his shoulder at you before continuing to look around.

“Did you hear me? You and I are done. Take your jewelry back, take everything you gave me and leave,” you continued.

He continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, and you stomped towards him.

“I’m serious, J! Do I need to call the police?”

That made him turn, and he wagged his finger at you like you were a misbehaving child.

“Careful,” he purred. “…because I personally know a certain thief they’d love to be informed about.”

You frowned, swallowing before pushing past him.

“I don’t care. At least in jail, I’ll be away from you-.”

You were cut off by your own scream, reaching for his hand as he pulled on your hair, forcing you away from the phone. He pulled you against him, and your eyes widened when he pressed a knife against your cheek, a hair’s width away from your lips.

“You have no agency in this arrangement.”

He threw you to the floor, and you scrambled away from him, nails scraping along the wood as he pulled you back. He cut your clothes away with ease, the torn shreds falling to the floor to leave you bear before him. The knife that grazed along your skin kept you from screaming as he undressed, but you did wince when he pressed it into your thigh, like a warning of what could come.

He took you behind the couch first, holding your thighs so tightly that the skin burned when he finally let go. Your table was next, but unfortunately, it didn’t withstand his rough treatment. The wall shook as he fucked you against it, every thrust rattling the pictures you had hung up to make this place a tad cozier.

Broken glass and broken pieces of wood littered the floor by the time he forced you into your bedroom. His knife remained in between his fingers the whole time he fucked you against your sheets. Your scalp burned from his harsh hold, and your throat hurt every time you swallowed, and you just knew that you’d wake up with finger shaped bruises in the morning. His deep voice was a constant in your ear, calling you ‘his little thief’, tsking at you like you were a confused child, telling you how much he was going to straighten you out.

When you clenched around him for a final time, your legs were thrown over his shoulder while your hands were pinned above your head by one of his. His free hand had fun cutting little nicks into your skin, greedily licking up the blood as tears continued to dampen your cheeks. He continued to push himself into you even after he came, and when he finally pulled out, your legs fell to the bed, chest heaving with shallow sobs.

“Now, wasn’t that a whole lotta fun?”

You glared at him as he sat up, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his fair skin, and your eyes traced the ink that decorated him. His green hair was in disarray, a smug grin on his lips as he pushed the strange colored locks away from his face. You could hardly even move, and you feared that attempting to would hurt worse.

You watched as he leaned over to his discarded pants, pulling out some sparkly piece of jewelry that you couldn’t care less about. You swallowed as he held it up, nearing you.

“…and here I was out shopping for something to compliment those new earrings, and you’re talking about leaving me. That’s a bit rude, but I’m willing to look past it.”

More tears spill over as he slides it around your neck, and it feels more like a noose than a necklace.

“You look like a work of art,” he says, lips brushing your cheek. “…all pretty and marked up by yours truly.”

His hair tickles your face, and he slowly leans away, dragging his fingers over your lips. You wince when he roughly grabs your jaw, pressing his fingers into a tender spot that you know is already forming a bruise.

“Now, I’ll be back in a couple of hours, so don’t do anything stupid.”

He tightened his grip at the end of his sentence, and you flinched. He grinned at you as he lightly patted his other hand against your cheek, grin widening when you recoiled.

“Let’s not do anything like that again, alright, sweetheart?” he purrs. “I’d hate to have to really hurt ya.”

tags: @harryspet @sherrybaby14 @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @opheliadawnwalker3 @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @readermia @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @buckybarnesplumwhore @quaksonhehe @nerdygirl8203 @mandiiblanche @cocoamoonmalfoy

#joker x reader #dark fic #dc fanfic #dc #dark joker #dark!joker #suicide squad

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spideymarvelws · 3 years

Note

A threesome with tom × reader × Harrison when they become roommates PLEASE could you include... spanking? 😸

im sorry if this is so bad sdhvcwdhcvps the beginning is a bit shaky but i finally sat my ass down and wrong something so i hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist

Warnings : dom/sub undertones, spanking, mild degrading and humiliation, tom and haz being little teasing shits

Word Count : 1.8k

Roommates With Benefits

Harrison Osterfield x Fem!Reader x Tom Holland

“And that’s pretty much it. Oh! And you could always just put Percy’s bowl and bed next to Tessa’s. I’m sure she won’t mind, very sweet girl,” Tom smiled, pushing the tips of his fingers into the pockets of his jeans as he led you back to the kitchen.

“We’d love another dog in the house! Just be warned if you ever leave, we might not be able to let him go.” Harrison winked, blue eyes shining with the light shining into the kitchen, causing heat to quickly rise to your face.

You chuckled light heartedly, leaning against the kitchen island with your head down, avoiding the intense stairs of the two brits on your body.

Everything happened so quickly. Being kicked out of your apartment after having trouble paying ridiculous bills, seeing the ad during your job at the cafe and immediately calling the number in hopes that the offer for a roommate was still open. It wasn’t usually something you did, especially without any background checks but you were desperate and in that moment, you were ready to endure anything if it meant you would have a roof over your head.

What you didn’t expect was a cute british voice answering the phone who was very cooperative and patient, answering all the questions you had. You called him everyday after that, using the excuse of asking more questions but ultimately you both ended up talking about anything and everything. It was an immediate connection that only intensified when you met him the next week in real life after your shift. Shaggy brown hair, soft brown eyes and a figure that made your mouth water, you didn’t expect such a sweet human to take on the looks of a model.

But he didn’t come alone, next to him was a taller but equally attractive blond brit, with clear blue eyes and a smile that made your legs weak. You were surprised how composed you kept yourself while talking to them and with a firm handshake and exchange of phone numbers, a beautiful friendship between the two was born.

At least, that’s what you tried to keep it as. Both men were naturally flirtatious, constantly complimenting you then pointing out how flustered you got like it was some inside joke. When you would meet up with them after shifts, sometimes one of them would take your hand while the other stayed attached to you to the hip, along with a lot of subtle touches that left goose bumps in their wake.

It came to the point where your coworkers gave you side eyes, dancing around the question of asking if you were dating anyone which only made you more flustered.

After a month of spending time with them, the week before your lease ended, they invited you to their flat to show you around, not so directly confirming that they wanted you as their third roommate.

However, as you entered the house, tension started to build in the air, tension that you only noticed apparently since Tom and Harrison went on with the tour like everything they did was normal. Constant innuendoes, especially when they showed you where the bedrooms were, stretching their arms in already tight shirts, staying close by your side with small touches to your back and arm.

It kept you flustered, while your purpose being there was to find a place to stay, you couldn’t deny that the two brits were attractive, irritatingly so. After the month of getting to know them, you developed a pretty obvious crush on the two men but you were too shy to say anything, too many negative consequences filling your head.

You were happy to maintain a friendship, even if that meant keeping the constant heat on your skin in their presence.

“How do you know if Tessa’s any safer? I might just take her with me.” you teased, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Oh really?” Tom raised a brow, walking closer to you behind the kitchen counter, “I feel hurt that you’re already thinking of leaving.” he leaned on his left elbow with his ankles crossed over the other, licking his lips as he looked you up and down.

“To- to be fair... Haz was the first to suggest it.” you stuttered briefly, coughing to hide how nervous you became.

“Yeah, cut her some slack Tom.” the blond snickered, walking up to you, standing on the other side, arms crossed and muscles bulging, “Don’t want to scare her off too soon now do we?”

“Oh I don’t think we’re scaring her off Haz.” Tom raised his hand, taking your jaw between your fingers and turning your head to face him, “Are we scaring you love?”

You shook your head no, eyes wide and body frozen with the contact.

“We’re going to need words darling,” Harrison said into your ear, his breath heavy on the side of your head, his hand landing possessively on the base of your neck, “Communication is very important for us in a roommate.”

“Is it?” you squeaked, trying to process being suddenly sandwiched between the two men. They’ve never been this forward, thoughts running through your head that made you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of some relief.

Tom hummed, leaning up with his face right in front of yours, “So I’ll ask again... are you scared of us Y/n?” your name fell off his tongue like honey, sending a pang of pleasure down your stomach to your heat. You wanted nothing more than to hear it over and over again.

“N-no.” the pitch of your voice was high, enough to make you laugh if it wasn’t for the men so close to your body.

“Then why are you so tense, angel?” Harrison’s hand moved down your neck, trailing along your spine and staying in the curve of your back, right above your ass, “Anything we could do to help?”

“I could think of one thing!” Tom hummed, leaning in closer, brushing his lips along yours, “That is, if our lady allows it.”

“Only if you want to be our girl.” Harrison added, leaning down to kiss the side of your neck, “Just say the word and this never happened.”

“No!” maybe it was the sudden closeness, their hands on your body or the pet names that flowed so naturally off their tongue. Or maybe it was the build up over the past months, the fantasies than ran threw your head of this exact moment that all lead you to whimper-

“yes... please.”

...

“Ah- fuck.” Harrison groaned from behind you, his rough hands gripping your waist tighter as he pounded into you from behind, “God she feels so good around me... tightest cunt I’ve ever fucked.”

“Wait till you feel her mouth mate,” Tom grunted, tightening his hands around your head. He looked down at your face, tears falling from your eyes, spit drooling from your mouth around his hard cock, some of it falling to the sheets beneath you. Out of his years of acting and traveling, he’d never thought he’d see such a beautiful sight.

“Oh I’m planning on it,” the blond responded, moving his hips impossibly faster, fingers digging into your waist, adding to the marks all over your body, “Not tonight though, don’t think the slut could think properly after this.”

Tom laughed at his friend’s words, continuing to bob your head on his cock, alternating between slow, calculated movements and a rough, punishing pace.

The humiliation only made you more wet and desperate for relief. You were right on the edge, have been since the night’s activities began. But the men wouldn’t allow it, constantly mocking and degrading you if the thought ever crossed your mind, threatening to not touch you for the rest of the week if you came without permission.

The fact that they planned to continue after this couldn’t even cross your head, mind too far broken down into just a toy for their use, begging and mewling for anything they gave you.

A harsh spank landed on your bum making a squeak erupt from your throat, muffled by Tom’s length. Harrison scoffed at your reaction, landing blow after blow, his hips losing rhythm as he neared his high.

“I swear she just gets wetter and wetter,” Harrison groaned, punctuating the last three words with a slap to your skin, “So fucking perfect around me I-” he groaned loudly, bending over slightly to reach deeper inside you, hitting a different angle that made you scream.

Tom was quick to pull you off his cock, one hand wrapped tightly around your hair, keeping your head up while the other moved quickly up his shaft. jerking himself off.

“Fuck, you look so pretty princess,” Tom moaned, “Ready to cum?”

You nodded enthusiastically, smiling wide as you kept your mouth open. The brunette grabbed your jaw, tilting your head up and spitting directly in your mouth, slapping the side of your face for you to swallow.

“Fucking beg for it then.”

But before you could respond, you felt pressure directly on your clit, Harrison’s cold thumb moving circles around the nub, pushing you further and further to your orgasm.

“Please! Please let me cum! Please Tommy!”

But the brit only laughed, “I’m not the one you should be begging too love,”

Tom loosened his grip of your hair only for Harrison to take over, pulling your back to his sweaty chest.

“Go ahead angel, beg so you could cum all over my cock,”

“Please... please Harrison,” you could feel the energy slowly fading from your body but your will to get off was just as strong, “Please let me cum,”

“Go ahead angel,” Haz grunted in your ear, “Fuck I’m gonna cum with you, bury my cock deep in your pussy, stuff you full,”

Without a second to lose, you let yourself go, finally getting that release you’ve been craving for that entire night. The feeling of the blonds cum filling you up made it more intense, along with his thumb still locked in place on your clit. It was an overload of pleasure, black spots clouding your vision but you still hyper aware of everything going on.

“Open your mouth pretty girl,” you heard echo in the back of your head. Without fight, your jaw slacked open, the taste of Tom’s seed hitting your lips, spreading across your mouth.

You were in pure ecstasy.

It took you a while to come back after such an intense moment, tangled in Tom’s arms while Harrison worked on cleaning your body, both looking down at you with admiration and awe.

“What do you think Haz? She good enough to live here?” Tom mumbled, softly petting your hair as you nudge your cheek against his chest, bathing in the attention.

The blond snickered from behind you, crawling over your body and leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your shoulder, “She could live with us for the rest of her life after that mate,” you raised your head slightly at his words, eyes wide and blown. He gently took your chin between his fingers, pressing a kiss to your puffy lips.

“Free of fucking charge.”

#harrison osterfield #tom holland #harrison osterfield smut #tom holland smut #harrison osterfield x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader x harrison osterfield #tom holland x fem!reader #harrison osterfield x fem!reader

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triptuckers · 3 years

Text

New In Town (part two) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: you're exploring ketterdam and happen to overhear an interesting conversation Warnings: none Word count: 2.6K A/N: ketterdam my beloved <3 <3 <3 PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler@romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza@whymyparentscheckmyphone@aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @tomridlessecretvampiredemigod TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @janesofia7 @stairscortana add yourself to my tag lists here (bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason!)

You spend the first weeks wandering around the city, getting to know the streets, canals, and its secrets. Every morning you wake up early to leave the pub when the regulars aren't there yet.

You like Ketterdam in the morning. It seemed like everyone collectively decided to sleep in every day. When walking the empty streets, you feel like the city belongs to you, even though you only arrived a couple of weeks ago.

During your short stay, you couldn't help but to develop some habits and routines. Normally, you made sure no one could figure out your habits and favorite spots, but somehow you felt like nobody in Ketterdam cared enough to pay attention to an outsider like you.

Especially when said outsider definitely didn't look rich.

Your clothes had worn out, because you hadn't taken your bag with you and had spent all of your money on rent for your room. But the owner of the building had agreed to give you a job at the pub.

You made a little money on the nights you worked as a bartender. You saved part of it, and spend part of it on clothes. First was a shirt, that was slightly too big but at least it didn't have stains on it or holes in it.

Next up was a new pair of pants. You picked them out carefully, buying one with wide legs so you could easily hide your weapons. It also has a lot of pockets, which was useful as well.

You then bought a new coat. It was a long, black coat. Perfect for wrapping it tightly around you and disappearing into the shadows during the nights you were on the streets.

Your boots weren't worn out just yet, so you hadn't spend money on a new pair. You kept your old clothes at the room, in case you needed a change of clothes. Old ones were better than no clothes at all.

With every piece of clothing you bought, you felt more like you had been in Ketterdam for a long time. Part of you felt like you needed to blend in, and buying Kerch clothes was a perfect way to do so.

You wake up on a particular sunny day. At first, you're excited to spend the day walking around the city, exploring the outer edges of the city.

But your good mood soon disappears when you remember you have an extra long shift to work at the pub today.

It's not like you particularly enjoy working at the pub. Most of the guests seem to think they can do anything to you when they're drunk.

The regulars know not to mess with you, but the new customers weren't around to witness you break three fingers of a guy who put his hand on your waist.

Even though less people messed with you now, there are still some who believe they can convince you to have a drink with them. You always have to smile and politely refuse, telling them you're working.

You'd much rather work your usual jobs, but you had yet to find out how to get someone to notice you. You didn't trust the gangs - yet. Simply because you didn't know enough about them.

Sure, you had the guts to march into whatever their main building was, but if you didn't have any dirt on them, it wouldn't be very useful. Besides, you'd much rather watch them try to anxiously get you to forget the information you had gathered.

You loved to have your clients beg for their pride when they double crossed you, or hadn't paid you enough. But you didn't dare to walk into a house full of trained gang members simply because your job at the pub was dull.

It was boring, and your skills were useless, but at least you got paid. It was just enough to cover the rent of the room, but a little money is still better than none at all.

If you could just find out some more information on the different gangs, you'd be able to join one of them, using the secrets you discover as leverage.

It's not like you had always wanted to join a gang. But the streets of Ketterdam are more dangerous than the ones in Ravka or Fjerda. Being part of a gang provided protection. You knew no one would touch you if you were part of a gang. Except maybe members of rival gangs, but you could handle those.

But for now, you're stuck serving rich tourists and drunk regulars.

Though it was a boring job and nothing exciting really happened, you did learn a lot by listening to their conversations. Gang members didn't often come to the pub, but guards, merchant's servants and advisors, people of the Stadwatch and other interesting people did.

You'd already learned a great deal about them by listening to their conversations. As someone who worked at the pub, you could come closer without any of them getting suspicious.

If only some gang members came in for a drink, you'd be able to listen in on their conversations as well. But you figured they'd have their own clubs, or other pubs they like to go to.

After a quick breakfast and a morning walk in the sun, you're already back at the pub, getting ready to start your shift.

Luckily, there aren't many people in the pub this early. You spend your time washing glasses, occasionally serving people, tiding up the place.

Around noon, it starts to get busier. But that's also when more people start their shifts, so you don't have to do all of it on you own. Even though it's busier the later the hour gets, it's still boring to you.

The same people are there and they order the same drinks, making the same lame jokes, hoping to make you laugh. The best you can do is a forced smile which disappears as soon as you turn your back on them.

When your shift is almost over, you're standing behind the bar. You're cleaning the glasses people used today, trying not to zone out as you stare at the open doors on the other side of the pub.

People are laughing and talking loudly, but it all seems oddly far away from you.

Suddenly, your coworker nudges your shoulder and gestures with her head to the entrance.

'They're not regulars, are they?' she says.

You look at the people she pointed out. Two boys around your age walked in the pub. One of them is tall, curls falling down on his forehead, and there's a grin on his face.

The other one is shorter, leaning on a cane and dressed head to toe in black, as if he's going to attend a funeral. Unlike the other boy, he doesn't have a smile on his face. Instead, he walks to the nearest table and sits down, signalling to the bar.

Your coworker wants to approach them, but you're faster.

'I've got this one.' you say with a smile.

You didn't see many people like this in your pub, and your curiosity got the better of you. Besides, you hadn't seen them in the city, making you believe they are from the parts of the city you rarely go to.

And since it's not weird for a bartender to make small talk, you approach them with a smile.

'Good evening!' you say cheerfully. 'How can I help you today?'

'Hello love!' says the taller boy as he returns your smile. 'I'll have a beer.'

'Great choice.' you say.

You turn to the other one, quickly scanning him up and down and noticing he's wearing gloves. Which seems odd, since it's such a nice sunny day. But then again, there are a lot of odd people in Ketterdam.

'And what can I get you, sir?' you say.

Just as he looks at you and wants to answer you, the taller boy speaks up again.

'You don't have to call us sir, you know, we're basically the same age.' he says.

'And how would you know that?' you say.

'I'm a good gambler.' he says, leaning back in his chair.

You see how the other boy raises his eyebrows at him.

'He's not a good gambler.' he says. 'I'm good.'

'You sure you don't want anything to drink?' you say, deciding to see if you can find out more about them. 'You're in a pub after all, and we've got some good stuff.'

'I'm good.' he says again, more firmly, indicating you don't have to ask again.

'Alright then.' you say. You turn to the taller boy again. 'I'll come back shortly, with your beer.'

'Thanks.' he says with a wink.

You smile at him and walk back to the bar. You notice your coworker was a little too late to subtly look away.

'What were you talking about?' she asks.

'What they want to drink.' you simply say, reaching out to take a beer and open it.

'And?' she presses on.

'And that's it. The other one didn't want anything to drink.' you say.

'Why's he dressed like that?' she says.

You shrug. 'Tell me the answer when you ask him.' you say.

You walk back to the two and notice how they quickly cut off their conversation. With a smile, you set the beer down in front of the tall boy.

'There you go.' you say. 'Enjoy.'

He thanks you, and you turn to the dark-haired boy again.

'Are you sure I can't get you something?' you say.

He briefly shakes his head. You turn back to the taller boy again. Apparently, he's the talkative one.

'So, you're a gambler?' you say to him.

'I can't say no to a game of cards every now and then.' he says.

Before you can ask him another question, the other boy speaks up again.

'Jesper, cut the small talk.' he says.

So the taller one was called Jesper, that's at least a start.

The tall one, Jesper, looks offended. 'I can have a conversation, Kaz, relax.' he says. He turns back to you. 'You a gambler?' he says.

You shake your head. 'I never really understood it. And I haven't gotten a chance to go to one of the gambling halls yet.' you say.

'You should tag along some time, I can teach you the basics.' says Jesper.

'That would be amazing.' you say, surprised at how easy it is to get Jesper to engage in a conversation. You wonder what else you can learn about him.

Unfortunately, a large group of tourists enter the pub, loudly telling you to come and take their orders. You don't bother to hide the disgust and annoyance on your face.

'Looks like I'll have to pass. I'm working, after all.' you say. 'Let me know if I can get you guys anything else.'

'You got it.' says Jesper as you walk over to the large group of tourists.

Of all the people that stopped by for a drink, you loathed tourists the most. They always seemed to think that if they were in a different country, basic rules about human decency didn't apply.

They're loudly shouting their orders at you and as you walk back to the bar to get their drinks, you can feel their eyes on you. No doubt they were talking about you.

You bring them their drinks with a forced smile, ignoring their horrible flirting. The second you turn your back on them, you let your smile disappear. You then catch Jesper's eye, who had been looking at your encounter with the tourists.

'Tourists are all the same.' you say as you walk up to him to retrieve his empty beer glass.

'They look nice.' he tries.

'They're assholes.' you say. 'Every tourist that comes in here thinks because I'm a bartender they can shamelessly flirt with me and pull me closer. But they give excellent tips, so I can't really complain.'

'If you don't like serving them, why not get a different job?' asks Jesper.

'Because I need the money.' you say. 'Don't really have a lot of choice. Can I get you anything else?'

'Another beer, please.' he says.

'Jesper.' says the other boy.

You turn to look at him, you almost forgot he was there. Jesper had taken off his coat, but Kaz was still wearing his long black coat and gloves.

'No more drinks, I need you sober for this.' says Kaz.

'Okay, dad.' says Jesper. 'He never lets me do anything fun.' he then whispers to you, loud enough for Kaz to hear.

'I'll leave you two to it, then.' you say.

You walk away from their table to clean a table of a couple who just left the bar. Normally, you'd do a quick sweep and head back to serving customers.

But something about Jesper and Kaz has gotten your attention. Jesper seems like a cheerful, fun person to be around. Kaz, on the other hand, looks like he hasn't smiled in his entire life. You wondered why they would go to a pub together.

You take out a piece of cloth and start to slowly clean the table, but focusing on Jesper and Kaz behind you. They're talking in such hushed voices, you're having a hard time understanding them.

But you do manage to hear a few sentences of their conversation.

'We enter as guards, Nina, Matthias and Inej go in disguised as party guests.' says Kaz in a low voice.

'Why can't I be a party guest as well?' says Jesper.

'Because we can't afford you to drink and flirt, we need to to confirm that diamond necklace is the real thing.' says Kaz. 'So we move quickly and don't attract too much attention.'

'Fine.' says Jesper. 'But next time we're crashing a merchant's party, I get to be one of the party guests as well. I want to have a good time.'

You quickly straighten your back and walk past them, back to the bar. You didn't want to give them the idea you'd been listening to their conversation.

So they were planning on robbing some rich woman who owned a diamond necklace. And Jesper would be the one to confirm the diamonds are real. Only Grisha could do that. And there were more on their crew, at least three more. If you could figure out what party they had been talking about, you could try and get in as well.

As you're standing behind the bar, talking to one of your coworkers, you see Jesper and Kaz get up. While standing in the doorway, Jesper waves happily at you. Kaz is already out of the pub.

You smile and wave back at him.

If only he knew that in just a few minutes, you had discovered they'd steal a priceless necklace, and that they were gang members. Because who else would dare to steal a necklace someone would be wearing at a crowded party?

Only gangs would be bold enough to do something like that. You didn't know what gang they were part of, but that wasn't the kind of information you need to acquire. Right now, all you had to do was find out where and when the party was being held.

You could be quicker than them, and snatch the diamonds away from them. You could buy yourself a nice new set of knives, or rent a bigger room.

Either way, you were going to get a lot of money.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#me whenever I am writing a grishaverse fic: I must include jesper or nina in this #I literally cannot write something without at least one of them in there #also I am sorry but it is true. kaz dresses like he's going to a funeral I'm sorry <3 its okay tho he's hot #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grishaverse #Kaz Brekker x reader #Kaz Brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #Kaz Brekker fanfiction #Kaz Brekker fanfics #Kaz Brekker fic #shadow and bone fics #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fic #new in town

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echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Can I request 8 from the list with Tech?

Stop Thinking

Ahh yes!

Tech x Reader: "No, no- I liked it."

Warnings: slight cursing

Tech licked his lips. Squinting with furrowed brows as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was feeling self conscious about himself, and it didn't help you and the others decided to head for 79s. A place full of regs.. Normal clones. Perfect clones. Clones you seemed to get along with as well as you got along with him and his brothers.

"Tech, you about ready?" Your voice called from outside the door, and he felt his breath catch. "I uh, yeah, one second." He called back. Running his fingers through his hair one last time. Then slipping out of the fresher. None of you were dressed fancy. You all had your blacks on and lower armor still attached. The others already waiting outside while you stayed back for Tech.

He looked over to you. You were seated on a chair. Fixing your boots, then straightening up when you saw him trail out. "You feeling okay?" You asked. Looking at his slightly distressed form. Hands trembling a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine." You frowned. You knew he wasn't, but you didn't try and press it.

You stood up, looking up to the taller male with a small smile. "Ready then?" He nodded. You opening the door and heading out of the Marauder. Closing the door behind the two of you. He was quieter than normal as the two of you trailing behind his brothers as they bickered and rambled.

You were concerned to say the least. "It's really nice tonight, " you tried to start a conversation and he looked over. Nodding a bit. He was thankful you were trying. His mind was wandering, degrading every little thing about himself. "It really is, the stars are beautifully aligned, too." He commented, and you smiled. Looking up as the five of you went to get a cab.

You and Tech had to take a separate one. The ride was quiet, but it wasn't awkward. You were relaxed and he felt a little better just with you. You never once treated him differently for being defective. You treated him with the same respect you did other clones. If anything, you were a bit nicer to him than most. Always holding conversations, smiling his way, or going out of your way to help him. It always made his day a little brighter. Especially on days like these.

"You gunna dance with me?" You asked as you both approached 79's. You've only danced with him once. It was when you were both pretty buzzed, he was actually drunker than you. Which was a shock, but you never forgot it. It was one of the best nights of your life, and by the way he smiled fondly and his cheeks tinted pink. You were sure he at least remembered a bit of it. "Sure," you giggled a bit at that.

You walked out of the cab. Tech waiting for you to catch up with him. Two of you walking in to see the rest of the gang towards the back where they normally sat. You were going to head back there, but was stopped by the 104th. "Y/n!" Comet and Sinker nearly screamed as they ran over to you. Making you smile and snicker. Giving Tech a small glance as if to say you would join him in a bit. It didn’t take him long to disband from your side and head for the others.

You could practically feel who you assumed was Crosshair glaring daggers into the back of your skull for the five minutes you were talking to the troopers. You were just catching up, it was harmless. Or at least that’s what you thought.

“Sorry, I’m back,” you spoke with a small laugh as you sat at the booth the bad batch took over as theirs. “Welcome!” Wrecker chirped. Shoving you lightly with a snicker, and you snickered back. Eyes moving to Hunter and Crosshairs. “What..?” You spoke with a bit of a frown. “Why were you talking to them?” Cross spat, and you sighed. “Cross, I used to work for the 104th, I’m not about to ignore them. How’d you feel if I got assigned another troop and I just straight up ignored you guys?” You spat back. You noticed Hunters expression changed. He seemed to change his view point on it all, but Crosshair just scoffed.

“We should just enjoy our drinks-“ “Can it, Tech,” Cross sneered, and his eyes moved back to yours. Leaning over the table, but you didn’t back up. “They’re regs, we don’t talk to them, what part of that do you not understand?” It was your turn to lean in now. Furrowing your brow. “What part of you don’t run my life do you not understand?” You snarled. Smacking your hands on the table and standing.

“Wait, where are you going?” Wrecker asked, and you didn’t even turn to answer. “The bar.” Tech sat there and sighed. Head in hands. “They mean no harm and you know it,” “Tech we know as good as you that you feel insecure when she talks with the Regs.” Tech snapped his attention to his brother. Frown forming on his face. Nostrils flaring, “You don’t know bantha shit,” he snapped, and headed off to the bar as well.

It was nights like these he wished he was normal. Kriff, he loved his brothers, but their attitudes were always too stern and glum. He needed change, so he decided to accompany you at the bar with Comet, Sinker, Boost, Wolffe, and a few other troopers.

You noticed him approaching, smiling, but then frowning a bit. “If you came to drag me back to the table I won’t. I’m not letting Crosshairs petty attitude ruin my night.” He shook his head, fingers fiddling with the armor on his thighs. “No, I came to join you, actually.” Your smiled returned. Shoving Comet with a grin. “Move over, Tech sits by me!” Comet grumbled a bit, but did as told. “Yes, Sir,” he spoke and you rolled your eyes with a toothy grin.

“Alright Tech, this is Comet, Sinker, and Boost, that over there is Wolffe.” Everyone but Wolffe waved. “Don’t let him scare you off, he’s actually quite enjoyable.” You informed Tech with a grin. Shooting Wolffe a wink, which made the commander roll his eyes. Lips curled just shy of a smile. “Everyone, this is Tech, a good friend of mine.” He knew it shouldn’t, but you addressing him as a friend and not a coworker made his chest bubble with joy. Smiling as the others waved and welcomed him.

You, Tech, and The Wolfpack all participated in some drinking games with one another. One of them was ‘take a shot each time you could make Wolffe roll his eyes, two if he rolled his head and eyes.’ Though after some time you all moved to a different one since the buzz was hitting and Sinker was singing ‘Sweet Caroline,’ in a near scream.

You were laughing and enjoying yourself, and Tech spent most of the time looking over and studying your face. The way your nose scrunched up when you scolded one of the troopers, jokingly. The way your eyes nearly closed when you were laughing at a joke. Or even just the way your smile never seemed to faulter. This is what he wanted. He wanted an environment like this. One with you happy constantly. Where you weren’t scolding his brothers for something stupid. Or even himself. He began to wonder if you should transfer back to the 104th, or another legion in general.

His thoughts got the best of him again. Zoning out as he played with an empty shot glass on the counter. Coming back to when you nudged his side. “Hm?” “You good, Tech?” You asked, and his eyes widened. Realizing he was zoned out. He nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah uh, yeah I’m fine. I just uhm.. need some air, is all.” He spoke, turning in the chair and heading off to the doors. You weren’t about to let this slide any longer.

You jumped off your stool, heading for the door with him. Catching it before it closed. The music still able to be heard outside the door once shut. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, watching him turn around with a near hurt expression. “Don’t lie, either, I know you aren’t okay, I’ve been working around you long enough to know that.” You spoke. Approaching him a bit closer. You watched as he caved in. You could see it by the way he seemed to slump forward. His light eyes seeming to shatter. Worrying at his bottom lip.

“Y/n?..” he spoke, and you tilted your head a bit. “What is it, Techy?” You didn’t use that nickname on him much. Mainly only for your ears to hear. You weren’t sure of it at first, but he seemed to take a liking to it. Tech closing his eyes and sighing at the nickname. Then slowly opening them again. “I don’t think you belong with us.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows. He could tell his words hurt you, and he knew they would. “What?” Your voice wavered a bit. “I don’t mean it in anything against you, Kriff. You’re absolutely perfect, but you just seem so much happier with the 104th.” He told you. “I want what’s best for you, and well,” he chuckled, beginning to pace in front of you. “Quite honestly we aren’t the best. We’re stubborn, hard to work with, and quite un-enjoyable half the times.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “And you think the Wolfpack is any better? Did you see Wolffe? His scold is worse than Hunter and Crosshairs combined, and he holds a grudge as long, and if not longer than all of you. Then Sinker? Boost? Comet? For stars sake they’re a handful, they’re crazy, and chaotic, and Tech. What I’m trying to say is every clone unit has its flaws. No matter what. Whether it be the commander, Captain, General, Arc Trooper, whoever. There’s flaws in everyone.” You told him.

He stopped his pacing. Watching you as you told your spew, “and honestly, Tech. You aren’t in the authority to tell me what is good for me. I enjoy you all, even if I disagree with you all at times. I don’t expect a perfect troop. We’re in a war for makers sake,” you spoke, and noticed him shift at the mention of the war. “I enjoy all of you. Tech.. I enjoy you.” His eyes lit up at that. Then he looked back down.

“I’m not like them though, I’m blind, I can’t see without.. Without these,” he tapped his goggles. “I’m tan, sure, but I’m lighter than even my brothers and.. I stand out, and I hate it, y/n,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “I feel like I’m not good enough,” your heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at his words. Stepping closer. Pausing when he seemed to tense. Reaching out to place your hands on his shoulders as if to ground him as you looked up to him.

You just stood there, watching his eyes look over yours for a moment. Searching for an answer, like he always was. “Tech, stop thinking.” He furrowed his brow. “You’re overthinking all of this, you’re good enough, in my eyes you are.” You told him. Watching as he seemed to relax under your touch. Hands running up to rest on the sides of his neck. Thumbs rubbing his exposed skin. Making him shudder. “I don’t care if you’re different,or that you need glasses. Tech, you’re absolutely perfect to me. You’re brilliant, handsome, and a fucking badass.” You both snickered at that. Techs fingers tapping at his thighs.

“Thank you,” you smiled and nodded. “‘Course.” The both of you standing there for a second. Taking in the moment and the touch of one another. Then you made a move that you immediately blamed on the booze. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, and he froze up. Eyes widening. “Sorry I-“ you blurted, taking a step back. Pulling your hands from the base of his neck, but he caught them with his. His hands carefully holding yours. “No no- I liked it,” he assured, and you both smiled. Cheeks tinted pink. “Well..” you hummed, “you still up for that dance?” He chuckled and nodded. “Always.”

#bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #the bad batch tech x reader #tech the bad batch #bad batch tech #tech x reader

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

A Sea of Fragment VI

Word Count: 3.964

Warnings: Slight violence

Author’s Note: I’m back! This chapter was so enjoyable to write, I missed this series so much! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Also yes I did see the 2.1 trailer. Scaramouche’s JP laugh my evil beloved.

After your little interlude of conversation with Scaramouche you had succumbed once more to the blinding heat that was enveloping you. Having little sense of the world around you, waking up to bits and pieces of movement only to be stolen away by the darkness again, you found yourself completely disoriented by the sight that greeted you when you finally woke up.

You were in a tent, that much was sure, though beyond that you weren’t really aware of much else. The bed that you were lying on, though slightly damp, was clean, and the top cover, which remained underneath you, was folded over neatly. There was a large table next to you, filled with what could only be medical equipment, as well as a dresser, a chair, and a bench, presumably there for medical purposes. However the high quality material of everything, the tent, the sheets, the pillow, made the whole room seem much too fancy to be a simple hospital tent.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, too afraid to move in case the world started swimming again, when what could only be a medic walked in. The Fatui emblem was embroidered neatly above his breast pocket, but otherwise he seemed completely, almost unnervingly, normal. The only other thing of note was the Anemo vision strapped to his arm.

“Ah I see you’re awake. Good, I didn’t want to have to call the head medic in again, since she made it perfectly clear already that your case didn’t need her specific supervision. Still, when my lord Scaramouche came in shouting, she couldn’t very well say that, ignoring how banged up you were at the time.”

“Scaramouche was here?” You asked, head still slightly fuzzy.

It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear that, after all you weren’t the one walking to the medical tent by yourself considering the state you were in. Still the image felt like an odd one. You figured he would’ve found someone else to do it for him. Letting this information rattle around in your mind you mutely listened as the medic asked you to hold out your arm for pulse checking, barely listening to his halfhearted small talk.

“Your pulse seems to be evening out a bit,” he finally said. “Good, you were going berserk for a little bit there. We even had to call in a healer, didn’t want you to die. Thankfully the healing seemed to help, my lord was saying something about your state being magic induced, and we were worried that there would be no effect.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you replied, knowing full well that this level of treatment was likely the result of being dragged in by a Harbinger. Still, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful.

“It’s nothing. Better have you alive then a dead body on our hands after all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still, you’ll have to take care. Your iron levels were also somewhat wonky, so we’re going to give you a week’s worth of pills for that. Come back in a week and if everything seems alright you’ll be good to go. Okay?”

“Alright.”

The medic nodded before walking out. Feeling still exhausted you flopped down on the bed. A breeze seemed to be blowing outside and a part of it came in through the slits in the tent. Letting the wind fan over you, you closed your eyes. Soon enough your thoughts swam into incoherence and you were dragged down into the realm of sleep.

“My lord.”

Scaramouche jerked his head up from the papers he’d been half heartedly studying. Seeing the medic in front of him he immediately stretched himself up a little taller. At least this wasn’t something completely worthless.

“I assume you’re here to tell me about the condition of the person I left with you.”

“Yes, they have just woken up. Their vitals are no longer in critical condition, and they appear to be alert.”

“Good. That will be all.”

“Yes my lord.”

Scaramouche waited until the medic had left before letting his thoughts roam. You were awake, you were finally awake. Though he wanted to deny it, the relief that flooded through him made it all too apparent how worried the Harbinger had been. When you’d first woken up in his tent he had felt worried, yes, perhaps even slightly frantic. Still, he had assumed that that would be the end of it. You collapsing again had made his blood run cold in a way that rarely, if ever happened. He was Scaramouche after all. The Balladeer, the Harbinger who had no room for mercy in his heart, no time to worry about the lives of other people. After all, does the winter blizzard care about whose house it destroys? Certainly not, it only has to fulfill its goal. Yet he had cared about what was happening with you, even more than that, he’d been worried, perhaps even terrified.

Acknowledging these things left a bitter taste in Scaramouche’s mouth, but he wasn’t idiotic enough to try and deny it. Somehow you had managed to become noteworthy to him, important enough to draw such a reaction out of him. Was this some despicable side effect of your ability? No, it was unlikely. There was no use in looking for excuses or denials. What the Harbinger had to do now was figure out what to do with his predicament. He ought to crush it, to treat you as he would any other low-level lackey, he ought not to have brought you over to his personal section of the medical tents, should have had someone else carry you to the general wing. Those sorts of regrets were too late now however. He had acted out of pure panic, hadn’t even thought of the strict hierarchy that ruled all the lives of those who lived under the Tsaritsa.

Not did your aberrant status help, you who weren’t from Snezhnaya, who had no sense of authority, who had no true place amidst the Harbingers. You were merely there, a shadow that Scaramouche had hoped to command who had instead appeared to have manipulated him in some way.

Yet he couldn’t get rid of you, not now. You were still needed in some capacity, needed to tell him of the layout of the village, the location of the artifact, you had said it was a mirror. Besides, Scaramouche still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Signora would want to inspect you, having brought you to Scaramouche’s attention in the first place. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; Signora had a habit of going where she pleased, deriving satisfaction from the ability to draw irritation out of her fellow Harbingers. The mere idea of her sauntering in to inspect you brought a sour sort of taste to Scaramouche’s mouth. Now more than ever he loathed his coworker’s antics.

Still something had to be done, though what was still up in the air. Pondering this Scaramouche stood up. At the very least he ought to look after you, though whether this was tied into the emotions that roiled in him or simple logic he wasn’t yet sure of. At the very least there would certainly be more talking if he didn’t look on you than if he did. If there was anything that the Fatui loved it was erratic behavior. After all those who could be swayed into doing illogical things were certainly much easier to manipulate. No, better for him to make an appearance, to say that he was concerned you were on the verge of death which would have ruined his plans. This excuse in mind he stood up, urging his inner thoughts to silence as he walked out of the tent and into the afternoon sun.

The image he was greeted with upon entering your, or rather his, tent was all too reminiscent of how you had first looked in that forest where he had first met you. Face pale, a slight sheen of sweat visible on your brow, slicking your hair against your neck. Though your eyes had almost immediately snapped open upon hearing the voice of the medic they were unfocused, and for a moment it seemed as if you were squinting to make the Harbinger out.

It was a pathetic image of a person, and a mix of disgust, pity, and worry swept over Scaramouche. Silently hoping that he himself would never look so weak he sat on the only chair in the room, dismissing the medic with a wave of his hand, keeping his focus on you the whole time.

“So,” he began when you two were finally alone, “you have been saved from the teeth of death. If I had known the spectacle you were going to cause I would have never asked you to do such a thing.”

“Most visions don’t go that way,” you replied, voice husky and cracked from lack of use. “It was, it was because of the mirror.”

“You mentioned that before. This mirror, I presume it’s what we’re looking for.”

“I won’t look for it anymore,” your voice seemed to tremble slightly. “Even if my vision it was terrible. It warped the space around it, even from the future. If you were to get into the same room as it, were to try and touch it, I, I don’t know.”

“We must get a hold of it. If it is the Tsaritsa’s wish we would sacrifice a whole reserve for it.”

“How can you say such a thing?” you replied, voice quiet. The dispassionate tone sent a lance through Scaramouche, and for a moment he found himself unable to reply, knowing full well the answers he ought to be giving you, the total loyalty demanded by the archon he served.

“Still,” he finally continued, “you have showed me that you’re certainly not strong enough for this. From now on I will no longer provide you information about this mission, nor will I ask you to do anything to bring it about. All I need is a report about what you saw, if you wish you can write it yourself. There are other things that you would be better suited for.”

“What things? I don’t think you understand. I’m the only one who has seen what could happen, what seems very likely to happen based on the fragments that were lined up in front of me. The best outcome I saw was that you were unable to find it. The worst,” you took a deep breath in, “the worst outcome is that the village goes up in flames.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Scaramouche, feeling irritation rise up inside of him. “I thought you would be grateful to hear that you wouldn’t be required to look into the future again, instead you insult me, insult the Fatui.”

“I am glad that you aren’t going to try and force me into the future. I don’t think you could truly convince me to anyways, but I’d rather not fight about it. Still, I want to be there, to make sure that this doesn’t happen. I have to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t have to know anything. I don’t owe you information or position, you’re only here at my pleasure.”

“Yes! I am only here because you forced me to be here, only here because you asked me to do something I didn’t wish to do. And now you take the advice I give you and trample all over it! Why, why are you acting so irrational?”

“You’re the one acting irrational!” Scaramouche shot back, feeling a wave of panic shoot through him. The idea that you had managed to somehow divine the odd emotions that he was currently experiencing seemed unlikely, but that you could sense something was out of place was alarming. “I just need the report,” he pressed, feeling his voice raise in irritation, wanting this to be over.

As you stared at him, silence being your reply, the thoughts that whirled inside the Harbinger’s head seemed to get louder. Why was this suddenly so complicated? All Scaramouche’s career he had easily ordered his way around and over people. Deals were only made with other Harbingers, who quickly stepped aside to let the Balladeer do his duty. Never had someone simply refused his orders. The idea that you would do so, would turn down something so easy and to your benefit, was absolutely infuriating.

“I would like to rest a little more,” your voice finally broke through the thick silence. “I’m tired.”

“I would have gone a long time ago had you just listened to me,” Scaramouche pointed out.

“Please,” you shot him a look, “I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to fight either. I really don’t. It’s the last thing I want to do. I wanted to thank you in fact, for bringing me here rather than letting me lie on the ground or trying to slap me awake or something. But, but you just, you never listen. That’s what makes it so hard, what makes all of it so hard. You never listen so how, how are you ever supposed to hear me?”

The plaintive tone of your voice struck another blow, as Scaramouche found himself suddenly, suddenly what? He found himself leaning out of his chair, the urge to walk over to you so intense it seemed to steal the breath from his lungs. He wanted to do something, though what he wasn’t entirely sure of. To apologize? To demand? To scold? To, to console? What a stupid thing to do. Yet all these things he suddenly wanted to do. Of course he couldn’t do nay of these things, couldn’t push you any farther, couldn’t pull himself back. All he could do was lean forward, as if that might in some way convey what he was feeling.

“Is there something you want?” You asked.

“No,” Scaramouche stood up. “There is nothing more I wish to say to you.” What a lie that was.

Making his way over to the tent flap Scaramouche stopped. Quickly, almost in rebellion with his mind, he turned and walked over to you. Taking your wrist he pressed his fingers to it.

“Your pulse is still irregular,” he noted.

Spinning around and walking out of the tent the Harbinger fought the urge to scream at himself, scream for such an irrational act. Yet part of him wasn’t thinking about that at all, was instead marveling at how warm, how comfortable your hand had been in his own.

It seemed like an hour had passed by the time your pulse managed to right itself, though surely only a few minutes must’ve passed. You held your wrist in your other hand, staring down at it, as if willing the scene that had just passed to reappear before you. What was that, what in Teyvat was that? You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, could barely acknowledge that it had indeed happened at all. Scaramouche, the Harbinger, the man who had only moments before been berating you, that Scaramouche had walked over to you and checked your pulse, held your hand in his, if only for a moment. It seemed laughable, seemed so surreal as to have been a dream, yet it had surely happened.

Of course maybe to him that had been a completely normal thing to do. After all, the medic had told you that your pulse had been irregular. Surely Scaramouche would have noticed that too. Perhaps his self-righteousness had caused him to want to make his own judgement on the state of your health. Still that didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat the moment it had happened, hadn’t stopped you from feeling like you were, for very different reasons than before.

You cradled your wrist, still able to feel the slight pressure his fingers had exerted on it, as if he had somehow branded you. His fingers had been surprisingly soft, not at all rough as you had expected it. Perhaps that was only natural, you knew that he sported no sword hilt, and there were no sharpening stones in his tent, meaning in all likelihood he was a catalyst user. Still, it was unexpected. His fingers had been surprisingly gentle, his palm with which he held your hand was soft and warm. You wondered for a moment what it would be like if he were to hold your hand properly. A small part of you wondered if you might yet do so in the future.

Almost immediately you shook yourself violently, willing those thoughts out of your head. Even now the idea of doing something so domestic, so intimate, with Scaramouche seemed odd, almost heretical. He was a Harbinger, a bloodthirsty man, one who evidently had no problem with a village going up in flames. And yet, and yet…

You sighed, lying back down on the bed. You should sleep, you were exhausted. Everything was going fast, oh so fast. You couldn’t keep up, couldn’t keep up with your feelings, with Scaramouche’s logic. All you wanted to do was block it out, to sleep. As you closed your eyes one final coherent thought floated through your head. He had, despite it all, not asked you to do it again.

You never realized you were dreaming until about halfway through your dreams. Even then you had no power to stop them, they pulled you along, like a riptide, waiting to drag you down into their depths.

You weren’t exactly sure how you got into the village, the all too familiar landscape. It was hot, and your thoughts seemed to melting along with your legs, as you tried to run towards the now blazing rooftops, yet found yourself hardly moving. Yet you kept moving forward, intent on something, though on what you weren’t sure of. Something very important to be sure. If only you could reach it.

Reaching some sort of back you shinnied your way between the burning. The flames licked at your clothes and at you, but you couldn’t feel them, they certainly weren’t any hotter than the rest of you. In fact the only side effect that seemed to be happening was how close the walls were becoming, so much so that you were barely getting through. Still you kept going, and eventually you found yourself out of the seemingly endless tunnel.

There were a few men in the distance, men who seemed to be barreling towards. Unease spiked through you, somehow you knew that whatever happened they shouldn’t catch you. Yet another part of you dismissed them as no important enough. No, this wasn’t how you wanted it to go, there was something else. As you thought that they seemed to suddenly fade away, or perhaps it was that you had suddenly found yourself somewhere else.

Walking down this road that seemed so busy and so desolate you found yourself in field. Not questioning the black sky above you, the fact that there was a field in the middle of a tiny village, you approached a figure in the middle of the field. Somehow you already knew who it would be.

You had never really thought about the space that Scaramouche took up before. He was simply there, a man, a Harbinger, a person. Just there. Now however he seemed all too small, almost puny. His head was turned to the side, so much as to be unnatural. A slight dribble of blood pooled from his mouth, and his eyes stared with the glassy intensity of the dead, the kind of stare that would forever haunt. You seemed to float above him, high, high above. Yet you wanted to lower yourself, to shake him, to see if he was just pretending. Everything felt glassy and distant, like a play that you were part of but not actively participating in. Soon enough he’d pick himself off the ground and start yelling at you. Soon. Yet someone was wailing in the distance, and for once the voice seemed eerily familiar.

You opened your eyes, at first seeing nothing before the cloth ceiling of the tent finally revealed itself to you. Lying there, not daring to sit up or roll over or do anything, you replayed your dream. Before it had seemed so distant, so disconnected from you. Now however it close, all too close. Your back was sticky with sweat, and the sudden heaving of your chest, cause panic to flood through your mind, revealed how truly shaken you were. You had seen Scaramouche dead before, had seen his fallen frame in your visions. It had been so different then however. Then he had just been a Harbinger, just been a demanding man. Now however he was, something. Something else.

All this time you had worried about your feelings for Scaramouche, worried that they were just some figment of imagination that stemmed from your visions of the future. Perhaps that was partly the truth, perhaps those visions had indeed provided the fuse for your emotions. Yet somehow you had lit them, or more aptly somehow Scaramouche had. The image of him lying there, dead on the ground, filled you with such distress that it seemed liable to drown you. Even if these feelings were somehow made up, the result of some imagined Scaramouche in the future, some need to line yourself up with some possible path, they were still real. Painfully so, if this was a sign of anything.

Finally sick of lying in one position you sat up. Though the tent was opaque enough you could see little bits of light through the slits of the tent, and the slightly warm air had the distinct feeling of it being at least midday. Standing up you made your way, somewhat hesitantly, over to the flap of the tent. You needed to see Scaramouche, if only to try and convince him again not to go through with such a ridiculous plan. You needed to make sure that your dream didn’t become a reality.

Walking through the tented hallway you quickly ran into the same medic as before, this time pushing a tray with food on it.

“Oh good you’re up,” he said, voice slightly bored. “Maybe you’ll be able to leave tomorrow then.”

“I need to talk to Scaramouche,” you said, words tumbling out and running into one another. “It’s something of the greatest urgency.”

“I’m sorry but my lord isn’t here.”

“Isn’t here? Then, he…”

“He went off on a mission, he said if you were ready to leave before he came back to move you back into your tent tomorrow and to wait until he returned for further instructions.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes.” The medic replied, seemingly slightly impatient.

Turning around you fell right back onto the bed. Ruining the hospital corners you ripped the blanket over your head, willing it to block out all the light. You needed to get out, you needed to go find him. Somehow you knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Even if you wanted to you doubted the medics would cross Scaramouche’s orders to keep you here until tomorrow. Even more so you had no information on what exactly he had done, though you were almost positive that he had gone to the village. Even if he hadn’t though you had to go check, go make sure. What he was doing was madness, running into a situation without fully comprehending it, what in Teyvat was he thinking?

Anxiety welled up inside you, consuming any and all thoughts you might’ve had. In their place was fear, pure distilled fear. Fear for the Harbinger that you didn’t want to die, and fear for the future that might not come to pass after all.

#genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #series #my writing

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thesmokingguns · 3 years

Text

24 Hours

Word Count:3454

Request/ Summary: “Can i request one where nicki gets turned down by their makeup artist or like stand in manager and hes upset and he finds out the the manager just doesnt sleep with people she just met”

I tried to write this where she breaks rules for him and turns him down. He understands what her restrictions are but he can see that living by her strict rules she created for herself she is making herself unhappy.

I hope I hit the prompt you wanted!

A/N: This turned out longer than I expected it to be so sorry about that one. I do have three requests I’m writing right now on top of some of the stuff I am writing so you can all still make requests but I'm going to be saying it’s a two week wait for a new request right now. I also want to say I am going to write a third and fourth part to the 3am Duff series because I have no self control. Thank you for everyone being patient with me and all your kind words! If you want to be added to my tallest please message me or go HERE

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @agroupiewhore , @ayablackwood

You were having a bad day. Not just a bad day but one of those days where everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. From morning to night it was the literal day from hell for you.

8:12am You woke up, an hour after you had hit snooze on your alarm, twelve minutes after you were supposed to leave your house to get to work.

8:34am After throwing yourself together and rushing out the door, you were running out of the apartment with the cup of coffee you had economically and time consciously thought to make. On the last step before you had escaped into the day you slipped, the hot coffee spilled all down the front of your red dress, because of course it was the one day you weren’t wearing black. Rushing back up the stairs you realized that the keys to get into your apartment were in your apartment, hanging on the hook just out of reach behind the door. So you would be going to work in your coffee dress.

9:01AM You made it to work, only thirty-one minutes late. Your boss wasn’t happy that you were late on a Friday, thinking you had done this on purpose as some slight to them. Which meant they had pulled you in the office and chewed you a new asshole.

They also told you about coming to work in a clean, tidy appearance as if you had wanted to be wearing your coffee.

As you were being yelled at you watched the line back up and couldn’t help but think about how yelling at you was just making the situation worse. You also were also thinking about how next time you’d just call in sick instead of being late.

11:59AM One minute before you were scheduled to take a break, one fucking minute, and the crazy man came in. Throwing his shit smelling money at you and proceeding to vomit all over your window.

Your window, your mess. So instead of having a much needed timeout from the day from hell you were trying to scrub the smell of puke off a counter.

1:47 PM You finally stepped out for lunch. Moving to the payphone to call your roommate. She thankfully answered on the second ring of the apartment phone. At least the door would be unlocked after work, which was one thing you had been worried about.

She was quick to tell you about how she had gotten you a gig for the night. Knowing how you wanted to travel, you two had come up with a plan a few months ago to find work in Hollywood for bands or on film sets. She had been pretty popular making costumes and helping to come up with whole concepts for the upcoming Glam Rock scene. One of her usual bands needed help because their makeup artist had been sick, so you were going to work for her tonight.

This would be considered a good thing but since it was a trial run you were not going to be getting paid for this gig. So your time would be free. The makeup you used on them you needed to provide. And you have to be there at 5PM to set up, which is the exact time that you need to get out of work. Your roommate agreed to help set you up and she was going to bring you a change of clothes to the gig. It would be fine because the band wouldn’t need to be made up until 6 or 7 but it was just another thing on your plate.

So you would be losing money that you needed to pay rent on a bunch of entitled rock stars who would probably not hire you and this whole night would just leave you feeling exhausted and annoyed. Really looking forward to it.

3:49PM Your coworker went home sick with a headache so now you had to do twice the amount of work and there was no hope in hell that you would be making it to the gig in time tonight. That great first impression that you would need to get an actual long job was gone. And you were stuck with a line out the door of people trying to cash their checks all seeming to want to kill you. Happy Friday.

5:02PM You were running down the street, thankful you worked around the corner from the venue. A sigh of relief left your lips seeing your roommate waiting for you. She dragged you inside pushing you towards a bathroom and giving you a bag of clothes to change into. You lined your brown eyes with the kohl liner, winging your eyeliner and adding a deep burgundy lip shade that complimented your darker skin.

“Y/N, hurry up.” you rolled your eyes, repacking the bag and heading out where your friend was waiting for you. “I put your makeup in the dressing room already. It’s not set up yet.” she pulled you down a few hallways. Equipment for the band was more around as they started getting ready to set up everything for the show.

You entered the dressing room, seeing there was a table for food and drinks set up, a rack of costumes for the band to wear, and finally a vanity where your makeup bag was sitting ready to be unpacked. Your friend handed you a cup, pouring a few fingers worth of vodka into it before splashing in some juice to help the taste.

“Cheers,” you tapped red solo cups drinking heavily. If you weren’t going to get paid for the gig you might as well take advantage of whatever free perks came with it.

6:23PM Sitting on the couch, legs crossed, you were chatting aimlessly with your friend when the door opened and a man walked in looking at you confused.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. I’m the makeup artist for the night.” you were quick to introduce yourself not wanting him to think you were another girl who was just trying to sleep with the band.

“Mick.” he moved to pour himself a full cup of straight vodka, “Can you do my makeup now? The three pretty boys take too much time.” Ushering him into the seat you started out on him, wondering what the hell he meant about the other guys being divas.

7:45PM A blonde burst into the room, seeming surprised that you were standing there. The girl on his arm laughed too loudly and you looked over to your roommate who was handing Mick a belt to wear. She just shrugged, this was normal for her.

“Vince, new makeup artist. You should sit now before the Terror Twins stumble in.” Mick warned him. He pulled away from the girl on his arm headed over to your chair with an easy smile.

“You're going to make me prettier, doll?”

“I’m thinking that you would look with some blue eyeshadow. It would really complete your Malibu Barbie look.” You retorted, watching amused as his mouth dropped open, not used to having someone give it back to him.

You hated cocky assholes who thought that they were God’s gift. There was nothing wrong with a man who was confident but the way that he was looking at himself in the mirror as you did his makeup you knew he was the type that thought he was above everyone else.

8:21PM Two men burst into the room as you finished up Vince. Looking at the two taller men you let your eyes wander over them. Vince was a diva but there two were going to be where you had the most trouble. They must be tber terror twins Mick had mentioned.

One of the guys fell into the chair, laughing about something as he sipped the beer he was drinking, rubbing his nose. He lit up a cigarette as he sat back in the chair not seeming to care if it was annoying that he was blowing smoke in your face as you tried to work.

You bit your tongue, annoyed as you tried to work around his cigarette, that he almost burnt you with seven different times. As you worked you could feel a set of eyes on you. Looking up you saw the man he had walked in with, staring at you with these intense olive eyes.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be interested in any of these loudmouth guys, who all seemed to be drunk and hyperactive. It was kind of like you were doing makeup for a bunch of chimps instead of men.

8:55PM Finally the last man was sitting in your chair. His eyes gazing up at you with such intensity you stopped moving around to just look at him.

“Have we met before?” there was something familiar about him and you wondered if you had met him at a bar or at a show before.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m Nikki.” Usually when a guy used a nickname instead of your given name you chalked it up to them being a douchebag but with him it seemed natural and not derogatory, “Thank you for coming out to do our makeup today. I heard the other artist got sick at the last minute. We appreciate you taking your time to help us out…” he left it blank waiting for you to give him your name.

“Y/N.” You were surprised by how talkative he was. The kindness in his tone is different from the way the other guys have been. Just when you thought he was different you felt a hand on the back of your thigh, “If you don’t get your hand off me I’ll break your fingers so you can’t play tonight.” you warned him, looking into the olive eyes gazing up at you.

He was too good looking. The type of guy you could get into trouble with if you allowed yourself but you wouldn’t be taking home a stranger tonight.

“Do you always talk to your clients like that?” he asked with a coy smile on his face. This was the type of smug you liked. The funny easy going type who could make you laugh if you had not been on your feet for twelve hours.

“Only the ones that don’t pay me.” you replied, swiping his eyeshadow on. You wanted this to be over so you could go home and sleep.

The drummer came over, bumping into the vanity and knocking the eyeshadow off and not seeming to notice as the makeup smashed into a thousand pieces on the ground. You were officially losing a lot of money on this job and didn’t have the funds to replace it.

“Jesus, T-Bone, watch where you’re going.” Nikki commented, watching you start to pack everything up, “Aren’t you sticking around to watch the show?” You shook your head. “Why don’t you stick around and I’ll take you out after for a late dinner. As an apology for this being a bust for you.” You were sure that the way he smiled and how his eyes were so clear made it easy for him to pick up chicks but you weren’t going to be one of them.

“I had a long day. I’m not going out with you.” You zipped up your bag ready to leave

“Listen, Y/N, just stay until we go on. Maybe I can talk to someone and you can get paid for coming out.” You did need the money. So reluctantly you stayed.

9:57PM You shouldn’t have stayed. Nikki had seemed to think you telling him you were not going out with him was a maybe you’d go out with him.

It had been an hour of him sitting on the couch getting to know you, asking questions and being nice to you. Men weren’t nice to you just for the sake of being nice, they were born without the concept of human decency.

But he had also talked to their manager, pointing at you and saying stuff you didn’t get to hear. Now you were stuck in a weird limbo wondering if you were going to get paid.

11:15pm The band rushed on stage and you were pulled aside by the manager. He handed you and envelope that you knew contained cash.

“The boys are going to have a few California gigs. If you can stick it out for a couple weeks I’ll consider hiring you for the tour. I’ll pay you $100 bucks a gig and you need to bring your own supplies to start but if you go on tour you’ll get a contract.” He said. You agreed and he handed you a piece of paper with four dates, the upcoming week, times, and his phone number to call if you couldn’t make it. There was also a chicken scratch handwriting with the name Nikki and a phone number

You were stunned when he walked away. You not only got paid but you have jobs lined up to make even more. It was a dream.

Looking up, you moved towards the stage watching the bassist move around the stage. He was high energy, loving what he was doing. There was this presence about him that drew you in. If you did get the tour position that would be trouble.

11:59PM You had finished packing up and we’re heading out of the venue to head home. You were ready for your bed and a few hours of sleep. The guys were playing tomorrow and you wanted to not be having a bad day.

Trying to sneak out, you almost jumped back when four sweaty men came barreling into the room. Your heart instantly went to your throat seeing Nikki. His smile dancing across his lips, hey black hair stuck to his forehead just oozing self confidence and sex appeal.

“You’re leaving so soon?” You just nodded at his question, wondering if it would be considered rude to tuck his hair out of his face. “Did you call a taxi or need a ride? There’s a lot of unsafe riff raff out this late.” He warned and you almost thought he sounded concerned.

“I’m a grown woman. I can walk myself home. It’s only like 15 minutes from here.” His eyebrow raised as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you won’t.” You shoe back, “I don’t know you and I don’t leave with strangers I’ve only known for one day.” You responded. It was practical to have rules to keep you from getting hurt.

“Well, Y/N, we’ve known each other for two days now since it’s past midnight.” He was so calm saying this to you, “And I’m trying to cut back on drinking so if they see me leave with you I won’t be harassed so you’ll really be doing me the favor.” Thinking about what he said, your tongue licked your top lip nervously. The way his eyes followed this motion gave you your answer.

“Thank you for the offer. I’m going to say goodbye to my roommate. I’ll see you in 20 minutes outside?” You gave him a smile and saw the way he was melting under your touch as you moved away from him.

You moved over to your friend letting her know you were leaving and you’d see her at home.

12:22 AM Adjusting the bag over your shoulder you weaved through the crowds pouring in and out of all the clubs. No one ever really bothered you walking home. It was just the cat calling and guys thinking that they had a right to run their mouths

“Y/N.” You frowned hearing your name. The roar of a motorcycle speeding up had your eyes looking out on the street.

Oh Shit. There was Nikki, looking at you with a line where his smile had been, his kind eyes looking annoyed at you. You had left him after saying you’d let him take you home but he was too pushy.

“Get on.” the steely tone of his voice made you stop what you were doing, thinking of what to do next. People were looking at the pair of you, some probably recognizing Nikki from his band. You rolled your eyes, stepping forward.

“Listen to me, I’m not getting on. I don’t know you.” His look softened and it was like for the first time he understood what the issue was.

“I just want to make sure that you make it home safe. I know you don’t want anything happening to you. It would feel like my responsibility if you went missing after doing the band's makeup.” you rolled your eyes. Eyeing him and the bike. It had been a long day and it was onlya five minute drive. What was the worst that could happen?

1:02AM The worst thing that could happen was happening.

When you got on the back of Nikki’s Harley he had asked where you lived. As he drove, you wrapped around his back you realized for the first time of the night you were smiling a genuine wife smile.

Watching the lights of the Strip and the hustle and bustle fly by when wrapped around his warm body, the noie drowned out by the roar of the bike was nice. It felt good. So when you pulled up on your street and he asked if you wanted to drive around more you didn't say no like you should have.

Weaving around the empty highways with just the pair of you was nice. There was no conversations but it felt like you two were getting to know each other on another level.

3:55AM Nikki pulled the bike into a donut shop on the side of the highway. The smell of fresh baked pastries and coffee brewing awakening you much like the wind whipping your face had been keeping you awake but it had been almost twenty four hours awake.

The pair of your ordered black coffee and a donut, sitting on stools at the counter and eating in a comfortable silence.

“Are you mad at me?” He didn’t have a cheeky grin on his face like you had expected but he was serious. “I know you said you wouldn’t go out with me but it just seemed like you were having a bad day and I have a hero complex.” you snorted when he said this. Surprised he admitted that he had a heroes complex.

“I’m not mad. I got on the back of your bike and stayed out.” you thought for a second, “I think I needed it. I always follow my rules and never break them. I think sometimes I need a break from the rules I create.” you said all this with your heart beating wondering what the hell you were doing with this guy in the middle of nowhere.

5:41AM Nikki had wrapped his leather jacket around you, both your boots abandoned by the motorcycle as you sat with toes in the sand watching the sun rise over the Pacific. You hadn't even seen the sun rising over the ocean before so you were wrapped up in the orange and golds of the sky, how the inky black of the water came alive into blue and purple hues with the light.

It was beautiful.

It felt like something was washing over you as you watchined it. Something was changing as you watched the sun start a new day. A new day that you had this feeling in your bones was going to be a good day.

Wiping a tear away, you took a deep breath remembering that you had moved here to make your dreams come true and for the first time it felt like it was going to happen.

A hand on your back reminded you that you weren’t alone. His olive eyes looking at you, concerned. You wiped a tear away trying to laugh it off.

“I never saw the sunrise over the ocean. It’s beautiful,” It was at that moment, wrapped up in the beauty of everything that you realized that he was going to kiss you. The way his hand was against your check, wiping the tears away.

But you surprised both of you leaning forward to push your lips against his. Making the first move. You were breaking all of your rules for him but it felt good and you could tell you would be breaking more rules with him

6:00AM It was going to be a good day.

#nikki sixx fanfiction #Nikki Sixx #Nikki Sixx headcanon #Nikki Sixx X You #Nikki Sixx X Reader #Nikki Fucking Sixx #Nikki Sixx fanfic #Nikki Sixx Imagine #Nikki Sixx writing #Nikki Sixx Request #Request

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 years

Text

To Love or To Lose

Sebastian Stan masterlist - Full masterlist

Summary: Antony convinced Sebastion to take a small vacation to Europe with him. In a mixup of sorts, they end up at the small town bar you work at. There’s a spark between you and Sebastian but they’re only there for a few days before they have to leave again. You’ll be damned if you let Sebastian go that easily.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3145

Author’s note: Hi, I wrote this very, very quickly at 1am because this was in my dream last night and I couldn’t get rid of it in my head. Yes, this is fully just a story I thought up for myself to insert myself in. I am Dutch.

‘We’re lost.’ ‘We’re not lost.’ ‘Just admit we’re lost.’ ‘We’re not lost.’ ‘We can just use our phone-’ ‘We’re not lost!’ Sebastian sighs and looks around while Antony tries to figure out the cyclist map they bought in town. He’s sure they’ve cycled for miles but they must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. Now they’re in the Dutch countryside, surrounded by fields and farms. ‘Oh, look at this.’ Antony pulls Sebastian’s attention back to the map. He points at a street sign and then to the street as indicated on the map. ‘There’s a town just a little bit away from here.’ ‘Good, let’s go.’ Sebastian hops on his bike faster than Mackie can fold the map and is almost down the street when Antony joins him. They are surprised by the fact that there is a huge intersection just around the corner. ‘I guess you were right,’ Sebastian admits. Mackie just laughs and presses the button for the traffic lights. They cycle down the street to a roundabout and decide to take the first exit even though it seems less busy. ‘We could have a drink,’ Sebastian points out when they pass a small, roadside café. ‘We’ll have a drink at the next one,’ Antony says, still a bit sour that they’re not where they’re supposed to be yet. And no more than half a mile later they spot the next café. ‘Fine,’ Antony sighs. They cross the street and set their bike’s in their respective places in front of the bar. ‘Must be a bunch of alcoholics in this town if they have two bars in the same street,’ Mackie jokes, knowing that half of the people won’t understand him if they aren’t paying attention.

The terrace is quite full but there’s space. They walk up to a small standing table that has a sign on it. Neither of them can read it but they suppose it means something like “Wait here for service.” They see a tall, lanky man with a beard and messy hair walk around the terrace, delivering drinks to the patrons. He makes eye contact with the two and nods at them to let them know he’s coming. ‘Ik kom zo bij jullie.’ A girl rushes past so fast that Sebastian barely gets the chance to look at her. She carries a tray full of tap beer to a table across the terrace with such ease that it looks like second nature to her. Antony nudges him. ‘What do you think she said?’ ‘Probably something about coming over here to help us?’ ‘Yeah, sure.’ Together, they watch the girl as she stands by a table with rowdy men giving her lusting looks and strange smiles. They’re quite obviously very drunk. Sebastian takes a second to take her in as she stands with her back towards them. She has her hair in a kind of half-up, half-down style and wears a copper wrap dress with white specks on it. From the side, Sebastian can see a tattoo peek out from under her dress. She wears white tennis shoes with creme-colored ruffled socks poking out of them. When she turns around with a smile on her face he can see her red lips and blushy cheeks. She walks incredibly fast for someone her height, though she is a bit taller than the average American woman she still looks quite short compared to other people around. ‘Wat kan ik voor jullie betekenen?’ She speaks in Dutch and then she does a double-take. There’s recognition in her eyes as she speaks again: ‘Oh, sorry. How may I help you?’ ‘We’d like to have a drink and some help with our map,’ Antony tells her. ‘Of course,’ she smiles and looks around the terrace, ‘I have a spot down there on the benches or a few under the parasol.’ ‘Seb?’ He takes a look around and finds a nice spot that doesn’t have too much sun but isn’t quite in the shade either. Plus, it’s a bit more secluded. ‘That one over there. Is that okay?’ She looks down at the paper in front of her and nods. ‘Yeah, that’s alright. Have a seat. I’ll be right there.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘No problem.’ She runs back into the bar to do whatever she has to do. They sit down and watch her dart all over the terrace, stopping shorty to inform her colleague with the beard of something, and then walks over to them. ‘What can I get you?’ She smiles brightly at the two. ‘A beer please,’ Antony says. ‘Make that two,’ Sebastian adds. She nods. ‘Two beers, coming right up.’ And she’s gone again. Before she reaches the door, she seems to be stopped by a guest whose glass is still full. She talks to her briefly and while the woman talking to her seems very serious, she keeps laughing it off. All while darting short glances at them and then the woman she’s talking to points at them. Of course, Antony takes that opportunity to joke around. He points at himself with a questioning look as he catches the woman’s eye. She shakes her head and points at Sebastian. The girl waves it off and quickly runs inside. It takes less than a minute until she’s outside again and standing at their table. ‘What was all that about,’ Antony asks her as she puts the beers down in front of them. ‘Oh, she’s a regular and she was curious why she heard me talk English.’ ‘So why the pointing?’ Her cheeks turn bright red as she clutches her tray with two hands but the look on her face seems to tell a whole different story than her body language. She chuckles. ‘She knows my love life is a mess and she knows I fall for guys like you,’ she tells the two as she looks at Sebastian, ‘I might have to prepare you for her. She’s quite the woman and she’s tried to set me up with guests before.’ Antony laughs. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to handle her.’ ‘You’re American, right?’ He nods. ‘I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle her.’ With those words, she walks away with a huge grin on her lips.

‘En?’ The woman looks anxiously excited for your answer. You laugh and wave her off. ‘Heb het niet gevraagd.’ I didn’t ask. ‘Waarom niet?’ Why not? ‘Hij komt alleen voor een drankje en ik ben aan her werk. Ik hoor niet met gasten te flirten.’ He’s only here for a drink and I’m working. I’m not supposed to flirt with guests. ‘Dus? Hij is je type en je bent al bijna een jaar niet uit geweest.’ So? He’s your type and you haven’t gone out in a year. You sigh and shake your head. ‘Ik ga hem niet uit vragen.’ I’m not going to ask him out. ‘Dan doe ik het.’ Then I will. ‘Be my guest.’ She gets up from her chair and limps over to the two Americans sitting across the terrace. You can’t help but watch what she’s going to do and your coworker joins you. ‘Wat gaat Sanne doen?’ What’s Sanne doing? ‘Ze gaat een date voor me regelen.’ She’s getting me a date. He looks over at the two men and looks a bit confused. ‘Wacht, zijn dat-’ Wait, are they- ‘Sebastian Stan en Antony Mackie. De winter soldier en de falcon.’ ‘Maar die zijn toch al veertig ofzo?’ Aren’t those two like forty or something? You shrug. ‘Sanne stond erop. Op deze manier laat ze in ieder geval even met rust.’ Sanne insisted. At least she’ll leave me alone for a while after this. ‘Je gaat ervan uit dat ze niet me je uit zouden willen?’ You’re assuming they wouldn’t go out with you? ‘Antony is getrouwd en ik ben vrij zeker dat ze beter dan mij kunnen krijgen. Er staan letterlijk modellen voor ze in de rij.’ Antony is married and I’m pretty sure they can get better than me. Modells literally line up for them. ‘Ze ziet er anders vrij tevreden uit.’ She looks pretty satisfied. We watch as Sanne walks back towards us with a victorious look on her face. ‘Tom, je moet haar vrij geven. Hij zei dat hij met haar uit zo gaan als ze zou helpen met hun kaart. Ze zijn verdwaalt ofzo.’ Tom, you have to give her the rest of the day off. He told me that he’d take her out if she’d help them with their map. They’re lost or something. You could sink into the ground right there and then. Tom checks his watch and seems to seriously consider it. ‘Ja, ga ze maar helpen. T is toch rustig.’ Yeah, you go help them. It’s not busy. Your jaw drops. Tom can be quite lazy and often keeps you on until closing so he doesn’t have to do everything alone. ‘Je maakt een grapje.’ You’re kidding, right? He nudges you towards the door of the bar, knowing that you’ll have to write down your hours and grab your phone before you sit down with them. ‘Nee, kom op. Dit meen je niet.’ No, come on. You’re not serious. ‘Y/n, maakt niet uit wat er gebeurt, dit is een geweldig verhaal om te vertellen op feestjes. Ga gewoon.’ Y/n, it doesn’t matter what happens, this’ll still be a great story to tell at parties. Just go. Sanne puts her hand on your shoulder as she says it. You sigh and take your loss. Or win. However you want to look at it. ‘Wat wil je drinken?’ What do you want to drink? Tom asks as he trails behind you into the building. ‘Doe maar een biertje.’ A beer would be nice. He nods and gets to tapping while you fill in your hours in the folder behind the bar and take your phone out of a drawer under the coffee machine. ‘Ik haat je.’ I hate you. ‘Tuurlijk.’ For sure. Tom hands you your beer and you head outside to sit down with Sebastian and Antony. You grab a chair and pull it towards their table. When you sit down, both men have an astonished look on their faces. ‘They actually gave you the day off,’ Antony asks, ‘all because your love life isn’t ideal?’ ‘You clearly underestimated how terrible my love life is,’ you joke. ‘Well now you’ve gotta tell us everything,’ Antony urges as he leans back in his chair. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’ ‘I’m supposed to take you on a date, so I would like it if you did tell me something,’ Sebastian says. ‘You really don’t have to,’ you tell them, ‘I know she’s a scary woman but she won’t kill you or anything. Besides, you won’t ever see either of us again once you leave.’ ‘That’s fair but this is a great story,’ Sebastian shrugs. You scoff and scoot your chair a little closer. ‘Sure. Now let’s see this map of yours.’

“We found it.” Sebastian sends the text and drops his bag in his room. It takes only a few seconds until you send a message back. “Yay, good job.” He smiles as he sits down on his bed and types his response. “Nah, that was all you.” “I wouldn’t be too grateful. I am going to cyberbully the shit out of you.” “Sure.” There’s knocking on his hotel room. He calls for the person to come in, knowing it’ll probably be Mackie and it is. ‘Hey man,’ he says and sits down in a nice chair across the room. ‘Hey,’ Sebastian replies, ‘you got a good room?’ ‘Great. Say, are you going to go back to take our tour guide on that date?’ Sebastian shrugs. ‘I was thinking about it but she’s quite a bit younger.’ ‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Antony says with a nod. ‘But I still think you should do it.’ ‘Hold on, why?’ ‘She said something on the terrace that kind of stuck with me.’ He gets up from his chair and walks over to the window to look out over the busy Amsterdam streets. He looks a bit disappointed by the view. He preferred the small town. ‘You will probably never see her again after you leave.’ ‘What?’ ‘She’s from a small town, she works in the town’s bar, no one has a clue who you are around there. And I saw how you looked at her. So why not take a chance? Best case scenario, you have a fun date. Worst case scenario, you have a great date and are stuck with feelings for a woman who lives across the world. Either way, she’s fun to be around.’ Sebastian is shocked for a second but Antony is spitting straight facts. Y/n was a joy to talk to while she was helping them figure out their next move and what does he really have to lose? ‘You’re right.’

~Two months later~

‘Sebastian, we heard you finally took a trip with Antony Mackie. Do you have any stories?’ The fan looks smug as she asks it like she knows something. Like she knows what he and Mackie know. He adjusts himself in his seat and puts the microphone to his mouth. ‘We went to the Netherlands and when you’re there you have to go cycling. We got lost and Mackie refused to use his phone to look for where to go so we ended up in a small local bar where the waitress helped us find out that we were actually cycling towards the wrong city. We wanted to cycle to Amsterdam and we ended up in Amersfoort.’ And then I fell for the waitress who showed us around the city to make sure we had a good time either way even if we could’ve just taken a taxi to Amsterdam. We stayed longer than we should’ve and I miss her. But he doesn’t say that. He couldn’t. ‘The waitress,’ the interviewer asks in disbelief, ‘she could speak English?’ ‘The Dutch are actually great English speakers.’ ‘Was the waitress cute?’ Sebastian laughs. ‘She was adorable,’ he says, trying to play it off as a joke, an exaggeration, ‘but she was really smart. She helped us figure it out and even helped us to get back to our hotel.’ ‘You didn’t sneak her in, did you?’ ‘Oh, no, no. She just told us what to do and where to go.’

Sebastian walks through his apartment when his phone goes off. He checks the screen to see Mackie’s name pop up and he sighs. He knows what he wants to talk about. The interview went up just an hour or so ago. ‘I know,’ Sebastian says as he presses his phone to his ear. “Just for good measure, I’m going to tell you anyway. Call her.” ‘I can’t do that to her.’ “To her or to yourself?” ‘It’s too much of a distance. Even for long-distance.’ “She told you she’s thinking of moving to Canada.” ‘Doesn’t mean she’ll move here with the probability of a relationship. And a relationship in the spotlight.’ “So you’re going to deny you felt something?” ‘I’m not going to deny it, I just-’ “You’re going to bottle it up until it eats you alive in hopes of losing feelings.” Antony sighs. “Seb, this girl was made for you.” His phone starts beeping. ‘Hold up, I’m getting another line.’ “Sebastian, don’t-” He hangs up and picks the other call up without checking who is calling. He just wanted to get rid of Mackie for bothering him about Y/n again. ‘Hello?’ “Oh, hey.” Sebastian freezes at the sound of your voice coming through the speaker. “I didn’t think you’d pick up this fast. I need some help.” ‘From me?’ “Yes, I seem to have taken a wrong turn while cycling to Amsterdam.” She giggles softly. “And now I’m lost in New Amsterdam.” ‘New Amsterdam?’ He feels his stomach tingle at the words but he isn’t sure if she’s hinting at what she’s hinting at. “No, wait, they don’t call it that anymore. New York.” ‘You’re in New York?’ “Yeah, some dude with a gap in his teeth dropped me off in front of an apartment complex in SoHo but I think I’ve been scammed.” ‘In SoHo?’ He rushes to his window, struggling to open it with one hand. “Yeah, you know anyone who might have a place for me to rest my head until I figure out how to get back?” He finally pulls the window open and sticks his head out to look down and there you stand. You smile up at him and wave. “Oh, there you are,” she says through the phone. ‘I’ll be right down.’ He doesn’t waste another second. He pulls on his shoes on his bare feet, hopping as he goes. Snatches his keys from the table and sprints out, not really caring that he looks a mess. He runs down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and bursts out the door. You smile at him and he freezes, suddenly realizing you’re really here. ‘Wow,’ he mumbles, ‘it’s you.’ ‘Hey,’ you say as you bite your lip. He leans in slightly and then Sebastian becomes awfully aware of the prying eyes on the New York streets. He wants to hold you, kiss your lips, but he can’t on the street. Not when you just came here. ‘Come in,’ he says as he starts to usher you inside. He walks you to the elevator and presses the button. It opens right away and the two of you step inside. He notices you study his face and he feels himself getting nervous. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Trying to figure out if you’re actually happy to see me or just scared that I’m a stalker.’ ‘I’m happy to see you,’ he tells you as he suppresses a smile. You don’t. You smile brightly as you take his hand. The feeling is familiar and yet a little nostalgic after being apart for two whole months. ‘I’m happy to see you too.’ The elevator door opens and he shows you to his door. It’s only then that he notices you don’t have anything with you. ‘Did you jump on a plane like this?’ ‘No, I got a hotel room just in case I read you all wrong when you left.’ You take off your shoes as you step inside, something you also did at your own place when you took him home. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist. ‘You didn’t’. Your arms slide around his neck as if they’re meant to be there. He slowly dips down and presses a kiss to your lips. ‘Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me two weeks.’ ‘And after that?’ ‘I either introduce you to my parents or I go back.’ ‘Go hard or go home.’ ‘Exactly.’

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x fem!reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #winter solider x reader #bucky x reader

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rvspberry · 3 years

Text

Idk if I’m gonna end up posting this on AO3 because it’s very different from what I usually write.

But below the cut is some Johnny Lawrence sexuality crisis angst with a happy ending if you feel like it. (Heavy Christian themes and Lawrusso ending ahead.)

He was righteous, on high, the Almighty personified. Forgiving, and gracious in victory, and good through and through. Set his mind to something and he could make the whole world come alive.

That’s how Johnny felt at the Tournament, at least, when the entire crowd swarmed the floor and lifted LaRusso onto their shoulders, and Johnny snagged the first place trophy. Handed it up like an offering, a sacrificial lamb — all that Johnny had at stake, all that he’d lost, given freely and openly to this holy being.

The crowd grew louder. Johnny called out, “You’re alright, LaRusso. Good match.”

Got a pained, “Thanks,” in return.

He’d touched someone holy and lived to tell the tale.

Once Johnny is at Bobby’s house that night, since Sid and Laura flew to Miami for the week before Christmas, he asks Bobby to pray with him.

“You okay, Johnny?”

Johnny glances up to find worried blue eyes looking over at him, sizing him up — no, not quite. Measuring him, trying to gauge Johnny for what no one could see. Bobby’s eyes are such a different blue than Johnny's, clear and crisp but never cold. Johnny wonders if Bobby sees anything, if Johnny shows anything.

“I just…” Johnny rasps, gripping the glass of water in hand again and taking a hesitant sip. They told him at the hospital that he’d have to rest. Asked if he wanted to press charges, but Johnny just shook his head. “I need some guidance.”

“No better place to look to than to Jesus,” Bobby agrees, reaching out to take Johnny’s hands. He closes his eyes, and Johnny pauses for a brief moment, body going stiff, before he follows suit. Takes a deep breath as Bobby begins. “Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name.”

Daniel.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” Bobby continues.

Johnny squeezes his eyes tighter and tries not to let his grip tighten, too.

“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Please forgive me. Please. Daniel. I’m sorry.

“And lead us not into temptation—”

Daniel’s eyes. His grin, his mouth, his lips. Daniel’s body. The confident smirk when he gets up into Johnny’s face.

“—but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,” Bobby finishes, squeezing Johnny’s hands. Johnny blinks his eyes open, jaw clenched, to see Bobby giving him a small smile. “Forever and ever. Amen.”

“Amen,” Johnny repeats weakly, clenching his teeth against the urge to cry. To sob.

To throw himself onto the floor and mourn the loss of a life he’d had for years now, the life he’d fought so hard for. The life of a champion, of a winner, the life of a kid from Encino Hills. The life of someone normal, a leader, head dog even though he came into this life late, no rules established, flying blind and feeling his way into his place.

“You’re sure you’re okay, man?”

“I’m not,” Johnny chokes out. Hangs his head.

There are too many thoughts in his head, too much guilt and shame, and he can’t focus on one without the other flaring up to take his attention. Back and forth, back and forth, between Kreese almost killing him and Daniel’s sensei saving him and Daniel winning the match, to needlessly tormenting Daniel all semester and making a bigger ass of himself each and every time. Over and over, like it was on a loop.

“Do you want to pray again?” Bobby asks, voice dropping lower. “Sometimes it helps. The… repetition. Try to focus on the words this time. Focus on God. Let the spirit take you.”

Take me where? Johnny thinks, but he just tightens his hands around Bobby’s and nods.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

When Bobby leaves at the end of the summer to go to college in Oregon, a special school for religious studies, he leaves Johnny with his new number and a prayer book.

“If things get hard, turn to God,” he reminds Johnny. Pats Johnny’s back while they hug tightly. Johnny hasn’t been apart from Bobby since they became best friends at thirteen, both newly enrolled in Cobra Kai. “God has a plan for all of us, and you can find all your answers in the Lord, man. You just have to be open to hearing them even when they’re not the answers you want.”

Johnny keeps the prayer book. Says a prayer every night. Calls Bobby once a week, like clockwork, and stops drinking. He gets kicked out of Sid’s house when he turns 18 in July, gets a job as a handyman, then starts apprenticing for a carpenter, then starts working construction. It’s hard work but it’s honest work.

Every time his eyes turn to one of his coworkers, when they catch on the sweat and grime smeared over their muscles, or the curve of their ass, or the line of their jaw, Johnny recites one of those prayers in his head.

Dear Lord, please give me strength when I am weak, courage when I am afraid, love when I feel forsaken, wisdom when I feel foolish, comfort when I am alone, hope when I feel rejected, and peace when I am in turmoil. Amen.

Every time he gets asked out for drinks by his well-meaning colleagues, he politely declines and spends ten minutes praying in his car after his shift is over, hands blistered, muscles aching.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among sinners and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Every night, Johnny lays in bed and freestyles his prayers. God needs to know, he probably already knows, but he needs to know that Johnny doesn’t want to be like this. He wants to change. He wants answers. He wants to be open to them, just like Bobby told him.

“Go out tonight,” Bobby laughs when Johnny calls him on a Saturday at his usual time. “Just get out and have some fun. Go to a movie. Buy yourself dinner, whatever. Go meet someone. You’re just working and sleeping. You need to live a little, Johnny.”

Is that what God wants me to do? Johnny thought to himself. To go out and find a woman to settle down with? Is that God’s plan?

It’s what Johnny’s supposed to do, right?

“Okay, okay,” Johnny groans into the phone, ready to slam it back onto the receiver when Bobby whoops in elated triumph. “Some good, clean fun. Fitting for the best friend of a pastor’s son.”

Johnny goes to the movies. The new sequel to Alien, aptly titled ‘Aliens,’ looks halfway decent. Definitely not a good clean movie, but Johnny can live a little. It’s on its last leg, only playing the earlier showings, so Johnny snags the ticket since he figures he can be mostly alone that way. He loiters in the lobby trying to decide between popcorn or an overpriced box of candy to go with his soda. The bored teen behind the counter pops her gum and rolls her eyes as she waits for him to make up his mind.

He doesn’t fidget as he looks in the glass case, even as much as he wants to. It’s been conditioned out of him.

“Back straight, shoulders down, chin up, Mr. Lawrence.”

“Hey, can I get a large popcorn please?” comes a voice from beside him.

Johnny glances over, shaggy hair whipping around his face, and spots the one person he thought he’d never see again. Daniel LaRusso looks the same as he did before — a little taller, maybe, his long limbs filled out a little more, but still the shrimpy kid who kicked his ass.

Same eyes, same voice, same body.

Same mouth.

Dear Lord, please give me strength—

“Johnny? Johnny Lawrence?!” Daniel’s words cut through his prayer.

Johnny inhales sharply. He has to control himself. Give me the strength when I am weak, courage when I—

“Holy shit, man, look at you,” Daniel laughs, tapping Johnny’s bicep tellingly. A year-plus in construction had done wonders for his body, and his arms in particular. “Like a brick shithouse. Are you on steroids?”

“No, I work construction.” Johnny doesn’t know why his voice sounds so rough. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hi, LaRusso. Small world meeting you here, I guess.”

“Yeah, man! You here with anyone?” Daniel glances around, as if trying to pin someone else in the lobby to Johnny, but there was no one to match him up with. No one to match up Daniel with, either.

“No. You?”

“Flying solo today,” Daniel croons, running his hands down his chest. Johnny blushes and looks up at the ceiling.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee—

“What movie are you seeing?” Daniel asks, taking the tub of popcorn from the teen and passing a bill over the counter. He snagged a handful and popped a few butter-soaked pieces into his mouth.

“Uh…” Johnny glances down at his ticket. “Aliens.”

“No way! Me too!” Daniel says around chewing the popcorn. He pauses and looks at Johnny with his head cocked curiously. “You wanna watch it together?”

O, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You. I detest all my sins because of your just punishments, but most of all because they offend you, My God, who are all good and worthy of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.

The movie theater is empty. There’s butter on Daniel’s bottom lip, shining in the dimly lit room. Johnny licks it off in the black silence of the end credits.

Kissing Daniel feels like coming home. It feels like touching something divine, and Johnny’s stained gold in all the places they touch.

Is this God’s plan? Johnny asks himself. Daniel’s fingers tug at his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp. Johnny pulls Daniel across the seat and into his lap as he swallows Daniel’s moan.

Below Johnny’s hands, Daniel feels like an answer.

#lawrusso #lawrusso fic #johnny lawrence fanfiction #daniel x johnny

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adorethedistance · 4 years

Text

British. Handsome. Charming. - Harry Styles x Reader Retail!AU

Sorta requested.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive situations, I say titties like once

Words: 2108

Summary: When your coworker calls out and leaves you alone for a graveyard shift, you unintentionally enlist the help of a certain British, handsome, and charming retail employee from next door.

A/N: Hello this is my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I put my ‘to lovers’ trope as Coworkers Harry and Y/n but I’m kind of riffing off of that trope because I wanted to do employees at different stores in the same section of the mall.

“So, Ziva just called out...” I hear my manager Kelly break the news from behind me. A groan threatens to escape my lungs but I fight the urge as best as possible to save face in front of customers. This is the third time Ziva’s called out of her graveyard shift in the past two weeks. Tonight, we were supposed to unpack the new shipment of holiday tees, gag gifts, and decorations. On a normal night, I can handle floor set by myself, but the added challenge of holiday items and displays is a different story.

“If I take another lunch right now, I can stay and help with the floor set.”

“No,” I wave her off, already dreading the exhaustion that is bound to set in, “Go home. You’ve already done your full eight, I can fly solo for tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go before I regret letting you!” Kelly smiles with the tip of her tongue peaking through her teeth. She thanks me for freeing her and I finish straightening the last of the yellow champion hoodies on the rack in front of me.

“The boxes are on the left side in the backroom.” Backroom… got it.

Working at Tilly’s was supposed to be my high school job. At the end of Junior year, I opted for a minimum wage position to earn some extra spending money. If I’d known I would be attending the most local university in this godforsaken town, I would’ve picked a better gig; one that pays more. Or at least one that doesn’t schedule me from 7:30PM to 3AM.

The store closes at ten but the other four ish hours are for rearranging the entire floor layout. I have to redistribute the table full of graphic tees strategically around the store to make room for the holiday items we just received. With someone else’s help I could expect to be finished by 12:30. Maybe 1. Ziva calling out wasn’t part of the plan however, so I don’t expect to be finished early at all. If anything, I might have to rush to finish before my shift ends.

Not to mention I have a prose analysis final draft due tomorrow by midnight. Ziva better have some damn good excuses when she gets back.

Readjusting the waistband of my favorite jeans against my body, I head to the dressing rooms to double check for any stragglers. Upon finding myself alone, I go lock the front doors and flick off the glowing “open” sign in the front window. Hopefully time will fly faster than it has since I got here. I should’ve asked Kelly to grab me a coffee or a coke to get me through the rest of the shift. Maybe I should do some coke to get me through the rest of the shift.

Okay. What did Kelly say?

Backroom... Was that all? I hesitantly prop the storeroom’s door with the small, tan, rubber wedge before trying to take in the overwhelming mess of the backroom. The room has painfully bright overhead LED lights illuminating my path; the brightness is mirrored off the polished concrete floors under my feet. Considering there’s no holiday bullshit directly in front of me, Kelly must have given me more directions than just ‘backroom’. Graphic tees, sunglasses, jewelry. Nothing.

In my most goddamn genius idea yet, I search the top of the self of the storeroom to see the holiday boxes sealed and intact. Lovely. I can graze the surface of the top shelf with my fingertips just enough to get them dusty, but not enough to pull down any boxes.

Fuck.

This is what we have a ladder for, but we lent it out to the Zara next door. I don’t know what time they close but intuition tells me it's soon. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I dash out of the back room and unlock the front door to round the corner into Zara. Right as I exit the store, I run into someone hard enough to lose my balance, but not hard enough to take the other person down, thank god.

“Woahhh, you alright there?” British.

I look up to the face of the person I collided with. Handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I need to get to Zara.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late for that.” The handsome stranger’s statement catches me off guard and the fog of my rushed mindset disappears. Charming.

“What?”

“Jus’ locked up, I’m afraid.” I look at the completely dark storefront, and then back at the stranger. His gleaming green eyes catch mine and, cliché-ly, I’m rendered breathless by the exquisite nature of his face. Employee.

“You work at Zara,” I state dumbly.

“That, I do. And you work…?” Dropping my eyes to my worn work shoes, I’m suddenly overwhelmingly shy about working at Tilly’s.

“Tilly’s, next door. We lent you guys our step ladder and I need it back.”

“Shit,” the man smiles softly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I have the key to the store, but I don’t have the key to the supply closet where we kept it.”

“Dammit.” When I pull out my phone to check the time, I groan at the loss of another ten minutes. “By any chance do you guys conveniently have a step ladder that isn’t in an inaccessible closet?” The beautiful man laughs at my question and shakes his head no.

“We don’t, but I am pretty tall, maybe I could help?”

“You’re not that tall.”

“Taller than you.” My teasing is cut short by the man’s quip and I lead him into the store with conviction.

“Basically, I’m supposed to reconfigure the entire floor layout around the table for all the holiday merch, and the shipment came in but someone brilliantly placed them on the top shelf of the back room.”

“Which is why you need the step ladder from the closet that I can’t open. Gotcha.”

“If you could just get those three boxes from the top shelf right there that’d be wonderful.” After clocking the boxes in question, he nods wordlessly, and slips off his nice coat, no doubt a piece from the store next door. Underneath, he’s wearing a grey button up of which he begins rolling up the sleeves to. The action made me stop breathing for a second. His forearms are littered with tattoos of various drawings, one in particular catching my eye.

It’s a two dimensional mermaid figure with no seashell-bra, her skin transitioning into scales only after exposing her pubic bone. In the fluorescent lighting of the store, it’s clear as day that this is quite possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. What’s he doing working at an outlet mall?

Zoning back in, I see he’s already hard at work. With a box no doubt full of gag gifts on his shoulder, he speaks again.

“I’m Harry by the way.”

I return the gesture and he smiles when he hears my name.

“Pretty.”

Returning his attention to the second box, he reaches up to slide the box closer to the edge of the shelf. When he does so, the hem of his grey shirt rides up to reveal a tiny strip of his toned abdomen, where two mirrored stems of fern leaves are tattooed in strikingly black ink.

I blink quickly a few times to redirect my focus, and divert my attention to the floor where he’s set the first box. This leads me to notice the brown suede chelsea boots he’s wearing. Black coat, grey shirt, brown shoes. Interesting.

“Oh shit!” I hear him mutter in a hushed voice. Looking up to the top of the shelf, I see that the last box has already been opened. Harry is balancing it between both limbs, his shoulder, and his head, but any movement would cause the contents of the box to fall out.

I rush forward to help. Moving the flaps of the box back over the top, I reach across Harry’s body to move them. Then, to keep them shut I place one palm on top of the seam, and use the other hand to support the bottom of the box. It isn’t until I stop moving that I notice the position I’ve put us in. I’m reaching up as far as I can to secure the top of the box which has placed the entire front side of my body to the back of his. I’m painfully aware of how my hips are pressed against his ass, and he must be painfully aware of the way my titties are pressed against his upper back.

“I’m gonna move backwards so it’s off the shelf. Just hold the top in place until I have it right side up again, yea?” I nod dumbly in response before realizing he can’t see me.

“Yeah, got it.” And with that he begins to back up little by little, moving at a pace slow enough for me to consistently adjust. The box is almost intact, but I’ve run out of space from standing behind Harry, and I have to maneuver myself around him whilst keeping the box shut. I cringe before doing what I have to do, and shuffling around the side of Harry’s body, my frontside pressed against him the entire time.

Finally, it’s over and we can set the box down on top of the other two. Harry stands up straight again and dusts off his hands. He adjusts his jeans, pulling them back up his hips, and I have to keep myself from staring once more.

“Anythin’ else I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so? That’s pretty much all the heavy lifting I have to do tonight.” He nods understandingly and… dare I say disappointed? I’m probably just projecting.

“Are you alone tonight?”

“Yeah, my coworker called out, but it’s fine. My boss Kelly got most of the work done earlier when she unpacked a lot of the boxes and folded the shirts into piles, so…”

“I could help.”

“You don’t need to do that. You’re already off and I’m sure you’re exhausted and-”

“I want to.” I guess I wasn’t projecting.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. That way you can go home earlier.” His smile is soft and lopsided until we connect eyes, in which case it brightens to reveal his pearly teeth. I fall shy under his gaze and avert my eyes to the concrete floor below us. My cheeks are radiating at about 1000° and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Thank you,” I say, more flustered than I would have liked. Why am I getting so nervous? He’s just a retail employee at Zara.

A gorgeous employee at Zara.

“I don’t mind staying back... Spending more time with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Since I already know what you do for a living, what are your hobbies?” He ignores my question.

“I don’t have much time for hobbies. I’m only part-time while I’m in uni.”

“No way, what are you studying?”

I proceed to tell Harry all about my major and my career aspirations post-graduation and post-retail. I enjoy telling people about my dreams and yet, Harry’s the first person I’ve met in a long time that’s shown any interest in me and my dreams. The way he nods attentively despite having to fold misconstrued t-shirts and holiday sweaters, ignites a fire in my stomach that warms my heart. They way he asks hyper specific, prompting questions to learn more about my plans contrasts the fire inside me by sending chills down my spine.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are your dreams?” Harry stops folding for a moment and exhales a conflicted sigh.

“I’m not too sure at the moment. I’m content at Zara for the moment, and I haven’t decided what’s next. I do write music though.”

“You do?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“What kind of music?” He stops to think again, a bit less conflicted than before.

“It’s like, indie-folk-pop-rock ish.”

“Indie-folk-pop-rock ish?” I can’t contain the laughter spilling from my lips over the mountain of folded t-shirts.

“Yeah. A good bit of variety, really.”

“Well, it’s nice you have something to be passionate about.”

“Judging by how you talked about your dreams for an hour, I wouldn’t say I’m as passionate as you are about your studies.”

“Passion isn’t a competition. It’s what moves you forward as an individual.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh at me.

“Okay, Gandhi.”

“Hush! I’m allowed to be philosophical.” His laugh draws into a closed-mouth smile, from humor to an adoration of sorts.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” I unintentionally mirror his affectionate smile.

“Promise?”

***

A/N: This was absolutely one of those fics that, the longer I stared at it, the more I hated it and cut it down so here’s what’s remaining before I destroyed the whole thing. It’s def a puff piece and not an in depth fic but nuance is not my friend right now so, sorry about it :(

Taglist: @curlybrownhairedboys @meetmeinfleetwood

#Harry #Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles fic #Harry Styles writing #Harry Styles imagine #Harry Styles oneshot #Harry Styles one shot #Harry Styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #Harry Styles fluff #Harry Styles angst #Harry Styles smut

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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Hi Den! I just saw your depressive reader request and I really appreciated it, of course and your other contents, they were amazing. I wasn't really feeling myself lately and seeing the characters comfort the reader, believe me it really helps me, especially I'm going through a big test right now. I was wondering if I can request a Vlad King version, or any other characters you have in mind? I really wanted to be in his big arms, if no then it's ok too💗please stay hydrated at these times and be safe, I'm looking foward to your great work💗

Hi! I'm really glad you liked them! I have another ask looking to get Mic and Yagi so I’ll add them here too, i hope your test goes well!

Sekijiro Kan / Vlad King Hindsight is always much clearer. You wished you'd started the assignment when you got it rather than continually putting it off, but no, so everything had piled. You somehow managed to churn it all out the night before but it left you thoroughly exhausted. So much so that you end up flaking on your plans with Sekijiro, he doesn’t seem too perturbed on the phone though, he knew you had a lot of work right now, he’s been guilty of the same thing on occasion. Though that was a week ago. Nothing particularly devastating had happened, nothing out of the ordinary, and yet you just felt so exhausted. Everything was a chore to you. Which made staying in bed with the lights out for days on end incredibly easy. But it made doing laundry, changing your sheets, doing the dishes, and even just finishing a glass of water basically impossible. All you had the energy to do was get up, go to your job, and come straight home and get back into bed. If your coworkers noticed your rapidly declining state no one said anything. It was rare for Sekijiro to go more than a few hours without at least a text from you. You sent him literally whatever crossed your mind, pictures, random ideas or thoughts, questions about what you should eat for lunch or dinner, should you get mocha in your coffee or vanilla? You also usually called him when you were doing some sort of mindless task, cooking or cleaning and other things of the like. Not to mention how often you saw each other, practically everyday you usually stopped in on him while he was paroling, or asked him to come to your place when he was done. Now he was going full days without hearing from you at all. Since you’d given him a raincheck on your plans earlier last week he’d hardly heard from you. He texted you first of course, he’d asked how you were feeling numerous times now, but you always just said ‘I’m alright’ or ‘a bit exhausted’ at the worst before turning the conversation around to him again. “You look nervous.” Aizawa doesn’t look up when he speaks, but it was an elephant in the room. Sekijiro was sure everyone had noticed how often he was checking his phone, or the nervous jitter in his leg every time it went off. “Yeah big guy what’s got you so rattled?” Mic agrees from his spot beside Aizawa in the teachers lounge. “Nothing really.” Vlad cracks his knuckles, a nervous habit. “I bet you told Ryo. You shouldn’t play favorites it’s-” “I didn’t tell him and I don’t play favorites.” He cuts Nemuri off. “Is it romance troubles?” “Why do you always take it there, Midnight?” “So it is.” She looks proud, “I don’t always take it there, I just have a keen eye.” Sekijiro lets out an empty huff of a laugh, “sure.” “Maybe we can help.” If anyone but Aizawa said that Sekijiro would have written it off. It’s not that Aizawa wasn’t a nice guy, he was a hero after all, but for the most part he liked to keep to himself. Him offering help must have meant that Sekijiro was jumpier than he’d previously thought. “I have this...friend..and they’ve just been sort of MIA lately is all. I don’t wanna barge in on them but they’re just not acting like themselves. I’m worried I did something to offend them, or that they’re hurt or sick and not telling me, when I ask they just write it off. I don’t want to seem like I don’t trust them but something just feels wrong.” Now that he said it out loud this did sound like the type of thing Ryo would have been really useful for, though that in mind Ryo knew you better than the others, the chance of him just barging in on you was much higher. The trio ponders this new information before Mic seems to have a lightbulb. “Why don’t you go there with a gift? That way it’s less like barging in and more like surprising!” Mic jumps, holding up an inquisitive finger, “or bring some take out or something like that!” “That’s..not a bad idea..” Sekijiro murmurs to himself, it wasn’t out of character for him to surprise you at random times either... “Great. Why don’t you head out now?” Aizawa offers and Sekijiro turns to him. “No I mean, I would but I agreed to stay back for my class so they could use the-” “We’ll be here for a while.” He’s curt but his kindness isn’t lost on the taller hero. “Thank you Eraser. I really appreciate this, I’ll repay you.” “Don’t mention it. If this’ll get you to stop shaking like a wet dog all the time.” He mutters to himself turning the paper before him over, “let us know if we can do anything else.” You were starving. Yet you didn’t have a single morsel of food in your whole apartment, not even a jar of peanut butter. The hunger pains in your stomach weren’t enough to motivate you to venture out into the world, the terrible gloomy weather wasn’t helping either. You rolled onto your chest with a groan, wondering how much longer you could go on like this. Maybe after work tomorrow you could stop some place and pick up some groceries, for now though sleep was a great distraction. Despite having a key Sekijiro still knocked, though after receiving no reply he elected to let himself in. It seems like you’re in, your shoes are by the door, and your key is on the hook above them, but the coffee table is covered in plates, utensils and half empty cups of water or juice, your favorite blanket was strewn haphazardly over the couch, dangling onto the floor, you normally folded it neatly and draped it over the back. Your work papers and other things were cluttering the arm chair on the far end of the room and there were various wrappers around the floor and couch. “Hello?” Sekijrio calls out for you but gets no reply. He clears a spot on your coffee table for the take out he brought and sets the other bag of various odds and ends on the couch before setting to straightening up. If you were asleep, which is what he figured, then you probably had a cold or something. He doesn’t wanna clean everything, incase you..liked it like this? He’s not sure himself but maybe you were trying something out. He empties the glasses into the sink and cleans them and the utensils off before discovering you had literally no food in your whole apartment. This was becoming concerning. “Hey..” He knocks on the slightly ajar door of your bedroom, there’s no light coming from inside. “I’m gonna come in alright?” He nudges the door open with his shoulder and the light from the hallway illuminates you, asleep. You didn’t look sick, though somehow you still looked worse for wear. He shuffles over to you, “hey you?” He crouches down but keeps his voice low, “wake up.” He doesn’t want to startle you or anything. His efforts are fruitless. He straightens up and looks around a bit, pondering his next move. He elects to climb into bed with you, he isn’t sure why he does this, but it feels like the right move. He carefully maneuvers your limp and sleepy form to rest against him. You start to mumble sleepily, still deadweight stacked against him, “Sek?” You’re wrapping an arm around his ribcage. “Hey’re you up?” He looks down to you, only to find you are in fact not up. So he stays like that for a while, holding you by the back of your head to his chest, his other hand running long strokes over your spine, he could reheat the take out for you when you woke up. When you do wake up you’re fully prepared for the terrible pang of hunger to be the first thing that you feel. But instead you just feel warm, you didn’t remember bringing a heavier blanket in here with you, but the warm weight on your back was comforting and...moving? Why was your blanket rubbing your back? The next thing to hit you was the scent, warm and piney to mask a slight metallic twinge, it was Sekijiro’s. “Hey you’re awake.” His hand halts, “sorry to barge in like this.” “it’s...okay.” You wipe your eyes and sit up, his hand slides off your back and wraps around to hold your waist. “You feeling alright?” The hunger hits you then. “Honestly? No..” You’re straddling his leg, hands resting on his stomach. “Yeah, I had a feeling. What’s up? It didn’t feel like you had a fever.” “I’ve just been exhausted lately, Everything’s a chore. It’s all piling up and I have no motivation, and then I isolate myself and that doesn’t help.” You scrub your face. It clicks for Sekijiro then. “Oh.” He sits up, “oh.” He holds either of your arms in his hands, “why didn’t you say something sooner? I would have come to help.” “I didn’t wanna be a burden or seem childish, normally I can be pretty high functioning when I get like this. I’m still going to work and all so I figured I’d just pull out of this slump and then..apologize to you for being so aloof. I just-” Your stomach growls. “And another thing! You don’t even have a crumb of food in here!” Sekijiro scolds you, “seriously I was worried sick when I got in. And you’re starving! You could have asked me to bring you something!” “I didn’t wanna bother you, especially when I was being so cold I-” “Okay. Don’t work yourself up.” Sekijiro uses the hand not being held by you to pull your bedhair back from your face, “well I brought food anyways. We can heat it up. So why don’t we talk after you eat?” “I’d... rather talk now..” You murmur, holding one of his hands in both of yours, “I’m really sorry Sekijiro. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I should have called you and explained and-” “That’s a lot easier said than done babe.” Sekijiro stops you, “I won’t say I wasn’t worried, I was. Aizawa even said something to me.” He laughs a little, “but...this isn’t always something you can help. I didn’t wanna seem like I didn’t trust you by just barging in so I let it go on too long. I’m sorry for not coming sooner even though I was worried.” “It’s not your responsibility to-” “Shush. Anyways, now I know this kind of thing can happen from time to time, are you okay with me coming to check on you if I’m worried?” “Of course I am..” You lean forward and drop your head onto his shoulder, “I’m sorry too, for shutting you out and being cold..I didn’t make you think I was mad at you did I?” He laughs, “It had..briefly crossed my mind.” “I’m sorry Sek..” You wrap your arms around his back, you feel it shake with quiet laughter. “It’s alright. Everything is fine now. You must be starving though, do you feel better? Enough to eat at least? Let’s go out to the couch, a change of scenery may do you good?” You agree blindly, affectionately leaning into him as he rubs your back, truthfully you weren’t even sure what you agreed to until you were rounding the corner to the living room. “Oh no it’s-” Not half as bad as you thought? “I just picked up some stuff while you were asleep.” He waves, “I left your work stuff and the blanket, I know you can be particular about them. Get comfy and I’ll go heat this up.” You sit on another bag by accident, curious you peek inside to find a niche collection of aspirin, a heating pad, and some socks among other things. You can feel your eyes getting wet. “Hey why don’t you pick a movie too?” He’s coming back with two plates, “I can even give you a pass this time I won’t mind if you fall asleep because I-” “Did you get all this for me?” You scrub at your eyes and he rushes over, quickly setting the plates down. “W-well yeah I though you were sick!” He pulls you forward again, into his chest, he wraps his arms around you, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” “It’s just really nice of you-” You sniffle, carding your hand through the back of his hair, “thank you for coming Sek.” “Well..yeah of course I came babe. I’ll always...geeze, don’t cry..I didn’t wanna make you cry. Come on buck up.” His hands are sort of aggressively rubbing your back, but it’s actually kind of comforting.. “You could never bother me with something like this. I wanna help.” “I’m sorry.” You pull away and wipe your face after he squeezes you one last time, “sorry I’m..I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now-” You sniffle and look up at him, “I'm such a baby aren’t I?” “No..I don't think so.” He reaches out and nudges a tear with his knuckle, “I think it’s sweet. Babies are cute anyways.” His palms cup your face and his thumbs rub comforting strokes over your puffy cheeks, “let’s eat, okay? Put on a movie and you can fall asleep again if you want, I’ll even carry you to bed after. Tomorrow we’ll both go to work and then come back here and start getting you back on track alright? You’d help if it were me so don’t worry about troubling me. It’s really not any trouble at all. I feel better knowing you’re taken care of so really you’re doing me a favor.”

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic The pair of you were quite literally inseparable. You called each other during every commute, texted and chatted throughout the entire day. So when he started lamenting to Aizawa that you’d pulled away a bit Aizawa told him to buck up, you probably just needed time to recharge. He’d been friends with the voice hero for over a decade now and even he needed to take time to himself on occasion, and he didn’t see Hizashi half as often as you did sometimes. He always reassures Hizashi that loudness can be exhausting but that doesn’t mean he’s disliked, sometimes people just can’t match his energy. That was probably the case now. While that put him slightly at ease he was still a bit disgruntled. You’d never had an issue talking to him about this sort of thing before, you were always the first person to ask him to quiet down, or to lower his energy level, and usually you were the one of the few who could do it in a way that was somehow sweet rather than hurtful. The fact that you were plain ignoring him now sort of...actually hurt his feelings. You answered his texts, though usually with much less gusto than before, and you always cut your talks on the phone short with some random excuse, ‘i think someone is at the door’ or, ‘sorry someone else is calling me’ or ‘my phones about to die’ and so on. When he asked to see you you deflected, you had a migraine, you were backed up at work, you wouldn’t be home till later, you had to get up early the next day, any excuse under the sun to take a raincheck on him. He spent about 2 days brooding over it, genuinely hurt by your actions and wholly unsure of your intentions. To be honest, his high energy, loudness, and general excitability was exactly what you needed right now. You never had trouble asking him for help with things before; Help me open this jar? Could you pick up dinner on your way back? Do you mind moving my couch please, I’m trying to redecorate.. Will you straighten my hair I always miss pieces in the back. So you didn’t know why you couldn’t ask him to just be here. You didn’t need anything else, just his company would have been nice. You’d had an awful week, there was so much to do and you could feel your interest waining as the seconds ticked by, it was normal for you to get dragged down this time of year. Your coworkers and teammates were understanding of it, everyone had their ticks and this was yours, they were happy to help pick up what overwhelmed you and you were grateful for that but at the same time guilt gnawed at you, you felt useless and burdensome, the last thing you wanted to do was ask yet another person for yet another favor. Begging for help when you should be able to do it yourself. You didn’t want to suck the energy out of Hizashi, you already felt guilty enough for leaning so heavily on your colleagues. In hindsight your reasoning would make no sense, but all you wanted to do now was isolate yourself. It was as if your growth wouldn’t mean anything if you didn’t achieve it all on your own. You’re never really sure how you reach these conclusions but in the end they always feel logical. That being said, it didn’t feel like you were achieving much of anything right now. All of these tears were over nothing, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed but still. You’d written it all in pen, and now the error..it’s not that you couldn’t white it out, you surely could, but the white out would look sloppy now and it would be clear you made an error but you were so close to being done you didn’t want to start the whole page over. It felt like a silly thing to cry over, but you did anyways. Eventually it tired you out enough to get you to just resign to bed. Hardly past 10 pm, but bed. You needed bed. You were so wrapped up in work that you didn’t even notice him texting and calling, you hadn’t even spoken to him once today, and then when you decided to call it a night you just left your phone at your work space. He was antsy, jumpy and even a bit irritable. Worry didn’t really begin to describe it. Eventually, late into dinner Nemuri tells him to just go to you. “Check up on them, if they really are exhausted they’ll tell you that to your face, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Everyone seemed to echo her sentiments, which was largely unsurprising considering his change in demeanor was probably the least refreshing thing to befall the group of teachers the semester. Dorming wasn’t entirely unpleasant, they liked each other enough, but when things like this happened everyone’s patience was tested. He calls when he’s outside your complex, he’s mostly sure you won’t answer but he at least wanted to try before knocking, and then eventually deciding to just use his key. Not answering wasn’t going to be enough to get rid of him, he decided he was going to get to the bottom of this tonight. Even if the issues was simply that you just needed the time to recharge from him you could say that instead of just dropping off the face of the Earth, it wasn’t like you to be such a terrible communicator. Which is why he had trouble believing that as the truth, but even if it was there needed to be some sort of conversation about how this was not effective for either party because now he was mad at you and even if you had recharged sufficiently he wouldn't’ want to see you until he cooled down. Hizashi isn’t surprised when you neglect to answer the door. He is surprised by the terrible state of your apartment though. Papers and pencils are scattered around the living room, the kitchen is practically turned upside down despite the only food on the stove being a pot of plain rice that looks hardly touched. The further he ventured into the apartment the less he worried about you being tired of him and the more he worried that something awful had happened, and he’d neglected to notice you when you were in harms way. Your bathroom wasn’t much better than your kitchen, once neat medicine cabinet shelves were disheveled, cabinet doors were left open things were far from their usual place, not to mention the pile of laundry in the corner. He hand’t announced himself yet, normally it was the first thing he did, loud and boisterous and probably incredibly annoying to anyone but you, “I’m here, where are you?? come say hello!!” But something unsettling was constricting in him, his chest, his stomach, his throat it made his shoulders tense. Had something terrible happened to you while he was trying to give you space? Had he ignored an obvious cry for help? Was he too late? Would his neglect cause him to lose someone else? The last place to look was your bedroom, but the light was off, and it was hardly past 10, he brain wrote off any possibility of you being there, you were a historic night owl why would you be in bed at 10? He wasn’t relieved by the lump under your covers, in-fact he’d go as far as to say his panic only rose, bubbling up to the point he could feel it behind his eyes, like some awful pounding headache, the kind you get after driving home from a loud concert and having to look at all the city lights at night, though this was much less euphoric. “Hey?!” He can’t help tearing the covers back, flicking the lamp on, he hates to startle you, but right now startling you would be one of the best case scenarios. You jump, it presses you back into your pillows, into your mattress, the sheets crumple beneath you, it’s just instinct, you don’t know what else to do, you throw a pillow at him. “Get out!” “Hey it’s just me!” You were flinching, bracing for some sort of retaliation, though when nothing comes you open your eyes. “Hizashi?” “Babe, thank god,” he exhales like he hadn’t taken a breath in 10 minutes, not before pulling you up into a rib crushing hug. “What are you doing here?” Your hands hover over his back, confused. “What am I doing here??” He scoffs holding the back of your head, huddling you into the crook of his neck. “Looking for you! That’s what I’m doing here!” You feel a twinge of guilt at that, especially since he’s holding you so tightly, “are you alright?” “I’m fine..Zash..I’m okay.” One of your hands fall limp into his lap. “I was so worried.” He pulls you back, “seriously I was going insane, I thought something happened to you, you got abducted or hurt or worse I thought-” He stops himself, “please don’t ever disappear like that again.” He presses his forehead into yours, “you don’t need tot ell me where you’re going, I’m not trying to keep tabs on you, just please at least tell me you’re safe. Promise me you would tell me if you weren’t, that you’d be honest with me if you were in trouble or scared-” “Of course I’d...Zash is something wrong?” “I should be asking you that! Where have you been?” He’s pulling away again, squeezing your arms, “did you just get sick of me? Is this your way of-” “No!” You jump, “no, Hizashi I’d never do that to you-” “So then why? Why isolate yourself like this? Why would you do this? Did you just need a break from me? Was I being too loud, too much to-” “Zashi please stop you’ll make me cry-” You shake your head, “this didn’t have anything to do with you. Please stop thinking that, I’m sorry I made you feel that way I-” “You’ve already been crying!” He’s inspecting your face, “why didn’t you call me, how long have you been upset for? Is that...” You can see the gears turning until the dots are connected. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner I-” “It’s not your fault don’t be sorry! I should be sorry I- and you-” You hiccup. “Me? What about me?” He Looks down at you, “this is about you babe I’m fine-” “No! You thought I was upset with you! Or tired of you! Or worse that I didn’t want to be with you and that’s not true! I worried you for no good reason and I’m sorry!” “Oh babe...no..” He shakes his head before pulling you into another hug, “no..no way it’s not like that-” “But it is! Isn’t it? You even asked me if you were too much lately! You aren’t you never are Zashi, there’s no such thing as you being to loud or annoying or..anything. I just want you to be yourself, I’m okay when you’re like that, getting to see you like that I.... I don’t want you to change anything, please don’t change anything-” “Babe that’s sweet.” He squeezes you, you feel his lips on your temple, "but I’m worried about you. What happened to make you so emotional?” “I just got overwhelmed. I hate this time of year.” You fist his shirt in your hands, “work was too much. Everyone is nice, they understand, but somehow I feel even worse taking help from them. It feels like if I can’t pull myself up on my own it makes me weak, it doesn’t count if I don’t do it by myself. Which is why I didn’t call you. Or text you, or try to see you at all. I was already leaning on so many people I didn’t want to take from you too. I didn’t wanna suck up your extra time, you energy I...you’re my boyfriend not my caretaker I just-” “Stop me if I’m butting in unfairly.” He rests his chin on your head, “and I mean this respectfully. But that’s stupid.” “Asshole! I just poured my heart out to you don’t call it stupid!” You shove him. “Hey let me finish!” He catches your hands before you can get up, “it’s stupid because I lean on you all the time.” He pulls you forward again, “are my accomplishments null because you help me out all the time?” “Zash When do I ever-” “Don’t even finish that sentence. And don’t answer a question with a question.” He scoffs, “you help me out all the time. Even if it’s not always big emotional stuff...babe this past week’s been hell without you around. Even things that feel small, like making a bed, or doing laundry or running a bath for someone make a huge difference, they mean a lot to me and knowing I’ll get to see you has always helped my mood. I lean on you for stuff like that constantly. But I don’t feel guilty because I know you like doing it. So don’t feel guilty when it’s the other way around, I wanna give too, I want you to lean on me, to take from me. Seriously, nothing would make me happier than knowing I helped you.” “I’m sorry I pushed you-” “Don’t cry over that!” He laughs, “god you’re sweet. It’s okay. I was being mean. I shouldn't have said it like that. Anyways you never answered my question.” “What question?” You look up at him. “Are all my accomplishments null? Because I lean on you? because I need you?” “...well it’s not-” “It’s a yes or no question. It is the same. It’s okay to need help, more than just opening a jar. It’s okay to need support, that’s normal. No one is meant to do it all on their own. So yes or no?” “...no you’re right. No.” You turn into his chest and he plaits his fingers through the crown of your hair. “And you’ll always be there for me right? Because you love me, don’t you?” “Of course I’ll always be here for you. And don’t ask a question like that you know I love you.” You mutter, ducking closer towards him and wrapping your arms around his ribs, “i’m sorry I didn’t call. You really didn’t think I got sick of you right?” “No.” He swings his legs onto the mattress and lays back with you, “Shota and the others said you probably just needed a break but it didn’t really sit right with me, you’re the only person who never seems to need a break from me. ‘s why I showed up. To be honest I wasn’t really that worried about your wellbeing, I just figured you were swamped with work and didn’t want me worrying, but then when I saw..you know the mess..I panicked. I thought something happened to you, and you hadn’t answered my calls all day, or even yesterday.” “I’m so sorry-” You warble, “god I’m so selfish I shouldn’t have-” “It’s okay. You were overwhelmed. But if this happens again just..try to let me know you’re safe okay? If you aren’t ready to ask for help...and on the topic of help, how can I help now that I’m here?” “I just wanna go to bed.” You murmur, latching onto his arm. “Hm..nonsense. How about I run you a bath? And hey what were you crying about before?” You flush, this was embarrassing. “I messed up the page I was writing. But I did it in pen so I didn’t know what do to and I didn’t wanna start over because I was almost done but white out will look messy and so I got upset and then I got overwhelmed and then I started crying and then I went to bed.” You press your forehead into his arm petulantly, “and if you laugh at me I’ll make you leave.” “I’m not gonna laugh.” He promises, “I’ll run you that bath, while you’re in there I’ll rewrite the page for you so you can stop worrying about it. But you should use pencil from now on.” He squeezes the nape of your neck, “sound like a square deal?” You silence says otherwise. “What’s wrong?” He looks down to you. “I want you to take the bath with me.” You mutter it, it hardly registers, “please.” “Huh? Did you just say what I think you just said?” He looks delighted, despite his tone being almost devilish, “why would you want me to do a thing like that?” “because..I missed you...and I still feel bad and I know you like taking baths with me and..” You look down at your hands where they’re interlocked, “and...I want you to wash my hair. I can figure out that page tomorrow or something.” He sighs, “I can’t be mean to you when you’re being so sweet.” You get pulled along as he sits up, “of course I’ll come, and I’ll wash your hair for you.” He cups your cheek, “what else do you want? You can have anything just ask.” “After that I...I think I just want to go to bed, and deal with the other stuff tomorrow. I want you to stay though.” “I’m gonna have a heart attack.” “Hey! Don’t say things like that! It’s bad luck!” “Don’t be so sweet then!” He argues, pulling you to stand. “Of course I’ll stay. I’ll stay tomorrow, and help then too, if you want. You don’t have to decide right now I know asking for help can be hard. In the meantime let’s just take that bath okay?”

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might Retirement had left Yagi with some rather pleasant spare time. He’d never gotten to have many hobbies before but now he was enjoying freedoms life as All Might had never permitted. Chief among them being a continuous close proximity to you. Even though you didn’t technically live together it didn’t really feel as though either of you had a designated space either. It felt right for Yagi to be in your space, using your things, like he belonged there. It felt equally right for you to be in his space, existing and using his things as you pleased. You didn’t need permission and neither did he, it just felt right to exist around each other. Especially now that he had the extra time to spend with you and you both realized how easy and comfortable being together was. Though right now nothing felt easy or comfortable or right, your entire existence felt like a pair of jeans that was way too tight. Just taking a breath that was too deep felt uncomfortable. Your closeness to Yagi made the shift in your mood apparent to him from the very beginning. It was silly in hindsight. The proposal had a 50/50 chance anyways and it’s not like you had anything directly to do with it’s failure, it was just the last straw, the tiny thing that made all the other things seem huge, and as quickly as you’d realized that your mood had already plummeted. You’d run out of motivation, any drive to do anything but sleep and drag yourself to work had dissipated, at work you did what you needed to to get by and afterwards you went back to your place, even though Yagi’s was closer. Just being with someone else privately seemed like it would be overwhelming. Despite the fact that Yagi was the least overwhelming person on the planet, if anything you’d say he had the opposite effect, he was amazing at pulling your attention away from the little overwhelming details. However you couldn’t shake the gnawing nervousness that popped up at the thought of seeing him or anyone really. So when you crossed paths it was short, you poked into the school with lunch, into his place with dinner, you never stuck around to eat though. A conference call pulled you away, an important meeting you couldn’t be late for, you were catsitting and it needed your attention, you promised to call a relative and they’re just soo chatty, a late assignment needed tending to, all overused excuses that you normally practiced on everyone but Yagi, usually to get the pair of you out of an unwanted dinner or social event. You tried to avoid letting him into your apartment, you knew it was getting cluttered, you avoided the dishes and your laundry like the plague, putting another plate in the sink atop the pile only fanned your anxiety but the thought of actually cleaning it up makes you sicker than the sight of it. You tried to keep the front living room neat, luckily the overflowing sink was out of sight around a small corner, and the laundry cluttered a small closet out of sight as well. The only things out of place at first glance were the shoes, the coat rack and the copious amount of cups, cans and bottles littered around the apartment, some empty, some full, others in between. Of course he noticed these things, to a passerby it wasn’t extreme, but Yagi sensed the shift in you like it was a shift in himself. Though you insisted it was fine, you were just exhausted, it was the busy season after all, come February things would plateau. You promised him. So he resigned, he trusted you after all if you said it was okay that must mean you were dealing with it on your own. To be fair you were trying to. You honestly were. You just didn’t know how to ask for help in a way that didn’t make your stomach want to grow legs and run away from you. You said you were okay though, even if he didn’t totally buy it he’d wait patiently for you to tell him the problem, to seek him out. He knows how overwhelming it is for people to pry when you aren’t ready to divulge information. He doesn’t want to contribute to anymore bad feelings. However he could tell you were hiding something, still he plays dumb for your sake. He doesn’t try to poke further into your apartment, to your bedroom, or kitchen, places he’d normally allow himself without double checking with you, he doesn’t prod at you when you seem unusually emotional, when your excuse doesn’t hold up. He know’s you’ll come to him when you’re ready, at least that's the hope. When you were like this a mediocre day is a terrible one, and a genuinely bad day is world ending. Today had been genuinely bad. You woke up early to prepare for a meeting, you put extra time into getting ready, you even stopped for a coffee at your favorite spot, all things you hadn’t had the energy to do even just a day ago, you really felt like today may be when things start looking up. But then the first coffee the barista made you was burnt, the machine was acting up, you assured her it was fine, it wasn’t her fault after all, you woke up early so you had time to wait for another one. Even that wasn’t really sullying your mood, it was nice to chat with the young girl while she remade your drink, there were no expectations of you, she didn’t care about pile of energy drink cans in your apartment, or the mountain of dishes in your sink, she didn’t even know the existed and she’d probably never consider that they did as a possibility. She was friendly and she always looked happy to see you. But then your bus was early and you missed it waiting for your coffee. You could see it receding down the street. It’s okay though, you woke up early. You had time. Then it was raining. Then the next bus arrived but skipped your stop so you had to walk. And suddenly all the time you put into your hair meant nothing. Nothing terrible happened in the meeting, it was as lifeless and uneventful as ever, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. And somehow your bus skips you stop again on the way home. Why hadn’t it stopped raining? You’re about to climb into bed, drenched clothes and all when you hear someone knocking on your door. It was Yagi, you could recognize it anywhere. “Hey Yagi I’m really-” You want to send him away, you do, you don’t want him seeing you so upset you felt like a child, but he just looked so concerned. “I just got back.” You change your phrase last minute, “wanna come in?” He sits on your couch, you appreciate how he doesn’t try to peek into the kitchen. You know you haven’t been subtle. “I’ll wait here. You can go change into something warm. Please.” Yagi takes your hands, “and we can order dinner.” He wants to offer to make you tea, but something stops him from it. “You’re shaking. You must be freezing. I’m cold just looking at you. Go on, I’ll sit on the couch.” So you do what he says, sort of grateful for the demand since you would have fallen asleep like this, freezing and miserable and wet, and woken up sick the next morning. “Much better! Good you even got a towel! Comfy?” He’s grinning at you as you round the corner, now in dryer, warmer apparel. “Sit in front of me, I’ll dry your hair for you a little, it’s still dripping.” You nod as you follow his directions, any excuse to not have to look at his concerned face, getting out of his earnest blue gaze was top priority. “The rain was totally out of left field huh? It even lasted all day.” His hands are big and warm, even through the towel how gentle his touch was is obvious. “Yeah..” You draw your knees up to your chest, “I couldn’t seem to avoid it.” “Well at least we can warm you up now.” You can tell his grinning again, trying to brighten up your mood. You felt like an ugly gloomy cloud, and he was a big bright cartoonish sun. “Go ahead, you can lean your head on my leg, close your eyes. I can see your head drooping.” You do that too. You sit there for a quiet 5 or so minutes, it does wonders to quell the nervousness in your stomach. You feel him pull the towel away and card big familiar hands through your only slightly damp hair. His palms are soft and comfortable against you, it feels right. “You’re exhausted.” He observes, combing your hair off your forehead and pulling your head back a bit, closer to him. “Mhm.” You don't open your eyes to give your minimal reply, instead thoughtlessly coiling an arm around his leg. “Why don’t you come sit up here with me? It’ll be more comfortable. Your hair’s much dryer now.” “You don’t have to baby me.” You stand up then, “I’m alright.” “Ok I won’t baby you.” Yagi’s smile is soft and he casts it upwards to where you stand before him, “how about some tea? Are you up for making it? I’m still a little cold from the rain. Then after that you can some back and sit with me. Not because I want to baby you, but because I want to sit with you okay?” “okay..” You relent, “I can do that.” “Perfect. I’ll wait here.” You don’t know why you bit at him like that. You watch the kettle warm up as the guilt gnaws at you. It’s not like you were mean. All you did was tell him not to baby you. That wasn’t mean. You didn’t bite at him. But you kind of did. He was just trying to help. You aren’t mad at him so why are you mad? You open the cabinet. Of course there’s not a single mug to be found. You venture to the sink in search of two. You’ve found the last one by the time the kettle starts to whistle which startles you enough to get you to drop the stupid glassware. The ceramic shattering on the floor is sort of akin to a dam breaking. Tears are stinging your eyes. Things were looking up, Yagi was here, he was gonna take care of you, you were gonna feel better and now this stupid mug. You crouch down to pick it up. “Are you alright? I heard a crash?” Yagi’s there, of course he is. “Hey be careful, you’ll cut yourself.” He’s turning heat below the kettle off, "sweetheart here l-" and then rushing toward you. "I've got it." You were collecting the bigger shards in your hand. "Let me. I’ll get a broom, before you cut yourself. Please let me." He insists and you snap, ever so slightly, "Yagi. I said I have it." “Hey, okay, it’s okay," he takes a step back, "do you wanna be alone for a minute?" He offers and you sigh, "Tosh I just-" then you slice your palm open, "oh fuck everything," you hiss and drop the bits you were holding and Yagi kneels beside you, "hey." "I'm sorry." You could feel yourself starting to cry, the stinging tears pouring out, "i'm sorry I got so short with you." "Hey it's fine, I understand." Yagi murmurs, a large hand rubbing your back, "it's alright, leave this for now so we can clean your hand up." He takes your wrist in his hand, but you don’t say anything. “Do you hear me?" "Yes." You nod, and take in a deep breath, "yes I hear you...yeah let me just get the-" "It's okay, the shards aren’t going anywhere." You just sort of stare at the muddled mess of ceramic and now a bit of blood mixed up on the floor. "Hey." Yagi takes your face in his hands, "look at me." "I'm looking at you." Your lips barely move. "No, look at me, not through me. Ignore the mug, look at me." He presses and so you do, you focus on him, his face, his eyes, his nose, his hands on your cheeks, the warmth that radiated from him. "Let's clean you up." You nod, "yeah. Sorry." "Don't be sor-" Yagi stops himself, "it's alright, not a big deal. No permanent damage. Go sit on the couch, I’ll get the first aid kit.” “My bathroom’s really-” “It’s alright.” He promises, “it’s okay. I’m here to help you. That doesn’t bother me. None of this,” he gestures around, “bothers me. I’m here for you, whatever you need that to mean. Go sit down okay?” He wipes a stream of tears away. It’s quickly replaced but it’s a nice gesture. You do manage to get the loudest tears out before Yagi comes in. "Alright let's see the damage." He opens the first aid kit on the arm of the couch beside him, "does it hurt?" "No-" Your voice gives your current state away. "Sweetheart.." Yagi kisses your temple, "come on.." "I'm sorry-" "I don't mean like that." "I know-" You wipe your eyes, "I know..I’m sorry I just-" He shushes you and extends a hand, you hold out your palm to him, you had pressed an old face cloth to it which did help ebb the bleeding a bit. "It's not that bad." You murmur as he wipes the blood away, "just a lotta blood.." “That’s how it always is.” He murmurs as he presses the wet cloth to the cut and pulls your hands up to his lips, kissing the damp fabric over the wound. You tilt your head at the sight of it, "I love you Tosh..I’m sorry." "It’s okay sweetheart, it’s alright. I love you too." He murmurs back, squeezing the cloth for a little longer before pulling it away. He goes through the routine you'd so regularly followed on him, before, when he was All Might all the time, cuts and bumps and head injuries that you always tended to for him, you cleaned up all his wounds before wrapping some bandage around it and kissing it, he mimics the routine on you "good?" "Good." You nod back voice soft and wet with tears. "I'm no expert but..did pick up a few things from one." He grins and you snort a little which makes him coo, "hey there's that smile 've been missing." He kisses the high of your cheek, "how do you feel?" "A little better..." You nod, "sorry you had to see that..." "I know that you feel like you have to apologize for everything but trust me okay? Stuff like this? I'll always rather help with. It's never a chore, but even if it were that’s okay. I want to be there for you." He kisses your forehead, "I wanna make you happy." "Then.. thank you I guess.." You look up at him and he wraps you in a hug. You spend a comfortable few moments there until he pulls away. "Don’t mention it...now," He stands and takes you with him, "let's go clean up the mug? Together. Then we’ll sort out the other stuff tomorrow, together too.”

#vlad king x reader #kan sekijiro x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #all might x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests

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collabwithmyself · 3 years

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character intros, from the perspective of a cranky convenience store employee

This lady clearly doesn't wanna be here any more than I do. Her brown hair is a rat's nest, and the Ugg boots and fluffy coat thrown on over a rumpled dress shirt and tie tell me that she likely didn't bother changing out of her work clothes the night before. Her glasses are lopsided on her round face, and she picks nervously at the acne pockmarking her face as she sifts through the cooler for drinks.

She doesn't look to make conversation, thank God, just sets her food down and returns my obligatory hello with as much enthusiasm as I offered it with - not much at all. As she paws through her jacket for her wallet, she asks for the cheapest scratch-off ticket we have - but as I bend to tear one off the roll, she swears under her breath.

I have a sinking feeling I know what's wrong, but I ask anyway. "Ma'am? Everything alright?"

"I'll go put-- I'll go put this back. I forgot my wallet. Sorry, sir."

Fucking figures. She scoops everything back into her arms and hurries away, gait uneven. At least she actually volunteered to put everything away again, unlike most other customers...

The sound of the door rattling in its frame makes me jump a good inch into the air. My head whips around. Who the hell is here at one in the morning besides my sorry ass?

From the light of the storefront, I can make out a shock of dark, curly hair, bleached at the tips. The person's gotta be no more than five feet tall, and draped in some weird cloak thing. She's also attempting to push on a pull door.

I wait for a good thirty seconds for her to figure it out, and when she doesn't, I groan and meander my way around the counter. I figure she's drunk or something, but when I push open the door for her, she doesn't seem to be that impaired.

"Oh, look at that!" she chirps, no trace of sheepishness in her tone. Her hair falls over one eye, but the other twinkles with innocent delight. She stumbles past me and immediately knocks over one of the wet floor signs - maybe she isn't as sober as I thought. Good thing the floor already dried up after I mopped.

"Hey, do you guys have, um. Um, um, um." She snaps her fingers a few times, and I raise my brows impatiently at her. "Soda. Do you have soda. The big ones. And the. The little white bitches. Comes in a little tube."

"...mints?"

"Yeah! Those! You've got those, right?"

Who the hell is pulling the Coke and Mentos trick at one in the morning? "We do," I sigh, hoping against hope that this person isn't going to try anything stupid in the parking lot.

"What the fuck," I mumble to myself as this actual goddamn vampire strides into the store. Then I clear my throat and greet him like I'm supposed to.

The tall, pale man turns towards me and flashes a smile full of sharp teeth. "Hullo!"

What the fuck. I try to catch the eye of my coworker, but they're busy cooking wings for the hot display case. What the fuck.

The customer's dark, tattered trenchcoat reaches all the way down to his feet, giving the impression that he's gliding along instead of walking. His spiky hair makes him look even taller than he is. He's delicate with his hold as he picks out and examines sandwiches from the display cooler, scrutinizing the labels and seals. Whoever this guy is, he's meticulous, and his presence makes me more and more nervous the longer he stays.

Eventually, he glides up to the register with a basket full of sandwiches, adjusting the scarf around his neck. "How are you today, ssir?" he hisses-- actually hisses-- to me.

It takes everything I have to keep my voice steady when I answer, "fine, and you?" I keep my gaze on the food I'm ringing up for him, so I don't have to stare up and up into his piercing eyes.

"Oh, I'm quite alright. Nicce weather we're having, don't you think..." He pauses to read my name tag. "...Gray? Iss that short for Graysson?"

He knows my name. I want to die. "Y-Yes, sir."

"What a lovely name! Well, anyway, Graysson, it'ss a lovely day out, it'ss much niccer here than in the UK, you know..."

He's a chatterbox, and I don't want to risk upsetting him by urging him along. I watch helplessly as other customers begin to queue up behind him. My coworker is still busy with cooking food. I'm trapped, and he seems to be in no rush at all. What did I do to deserve this?

#collab writes #collab ocs #grayson #friday #verity #seth #swaa

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poptod · 3 years

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The Breeding Kings, pt. 20

Description:

Notes: WC: 7.4k

It wasn't long at all until he realized something was different––not specifically in you, or in his environment, but within his thoughts. Things had shifted, and the constant anxieties of where food and water was coming from next were turned to empty slots in his mind, slots you happily filled.

Against his will, he could think of little else besides you. He tried many things as well––staying away from you, keeping close to you, but he had yet to touch you in any way that really mattered. Fluttering glances and barely-there graces didn't count, nor did misplaced kisses on saner, safer areas. No, his dreams offered him no break from the annoyingly insistent thoughts, and instead supplied him with the endless imagination of an unchecked mind. Drowning in the image of your closed eyes slotted next to his in soft kisses, of your fingertips trailing across his bare waist.

But you would never do that.

He stared longingly at you through the gate he guarded, leaning on his wooden and bronze spear as you dug in the garden. Zakiti, your work partner, was travelling back and forth between where new trees had been dropped off, and where you were told to plant them.

In fact, he was so absorbed in your moving lips that he barely heard his own partner talking to him from across the gate.

"What are you, in love with Zakiti?" He asked, but he spoke in Akkadian, and Ahkmen had yet to pick up more of the complex words. One phrase you taught him was –

"I do not speak Akkadian," he said.

Luqa––or at least that's what Ahk thought his name was––just sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back to face front. Ahkmen frowned softly but turned to attention as well.

That was generally how he spent his working hours. Much like he had in the House of Life in Egypt, he wasted away the time by staring at you or thinking of you, phasing out at the thought of knowing you. He was sure his coworker was tired of his shenanigans, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about what Luqa thought.

Fortunately, neither of you had work that often, and after asking the stewardess, your schedules were matched up to have the same amount of free time at the same time. The two of you took full advantage of that, spending many of your days strolling throughout the city and trying the new foods and beers created throughout the mud brick landscape. Strips of gardens were scattered throughout the city, but none more grand than the terraces of flora making up the Hanging Gardens, whose trees leant over with their plentiful fruit. Deep green vines twisted around blue tiled ledges and tall, white pillars, the especially long ones brushing up against the people who came and went from the gardens. You had yet to actually enter any of the Hanging Gardens, but they remained a constant in the background of the city.

Many morning and evenings you spent in the brewery. Sometimes Ahk would follow you, but other times he left to temples and taverns, socializing with the locals in hopes of absorbing more of the language. His favorite time was coming to visit you at the brewery after letting you work for a few hours, as you always lit up like a beacon whenever you caught sight of him.

This time was no different––you raced up the steps, taking his hand and dragging him back down. Today, tarps had been raised above the workshop, blocking away the blearing sun, and allowing a little more comfort in the already-heated environment. Not all of the stations were filled, but your friend Tiamat was still there at your side.

"I am – I am doing a, uh, a way to make my beer, but with the barley," you stuttered out, barely coherent enough for him to understand.

"So... the really alcoholic kind?" Ahk asked uncertainly.

"Yes!!" You exclaimed, and Tiamat laughed.

"Here," Tiamat said, gesturing Ahk over to her. She dunked the cup in her hand into the frothing beer, and handed it to him when it filled with the golden liquor.

You and Tiamat waited in baited breath as Ahk slowly lifted the cup to his mouth, sipping at the warm drink with a critical look in his eye. It was sweet––almost like cider, but it burnt his throat on the way down, warming his stomach pleasantly once it was there. He looked up, and you were still watching intently.

"What do you think?" You asked, your hands clasped tight together in front of your chest.

"It's good," he said, nodding. "You know what would go great with this?"

"What?"

"Cardamom. It's a spice, I'm sure they have it here," he said, but your brow furrowed as you looked away, a confused look on your face.

Ahk looked to Tiamat and repeated, "cardamom."

Tiamat, who look equally confused, said something to you that you had to translate.

"We do not know the word in Egyptian," you said.

"Shit," Ahk muttered. "It would taste so good, though."

"Is it sweet?"

"Well, it is used in desserts," he said with a shrug.

"That is good for me. We can – uhh, we can go to a spice shop, and we can, or you can, find it," you suggested, and repeated it to Tiamat, who nodded with a brightening smile.

"Good idea," she said.

The three of you set off quickly with Tiamat leading the way, as she knew the city best after the years she'd been living within its walls. Bustling chatter filled the streets, accompanied by shuffling feet, wooden wheels, and the jarring calls of sheep and goats. Bells sometimes rung as merchants shouted out their wares, and you ducked beneath their raised arms, giggling as you followed Tiamat, while Ahkmen trailed close behind, almost always reaching out for your hand.

Tiamat was a good deal taller and buffer than you, reaching Ahkmen's height and surpassing his strength, so she was stopped by large crowds that suddenly crossed your path. You panted as you caught up to her long-striding legs, followed by Ahk also appearing and panting.

"Since the drought, a lot of our trade lines have been cut... of course, the Kassite takeover didn't help, so we've only got a couple spice shops left," Tiamat told you as she tried to look over the moving heads of the crowd. "I think most of it is grown in the King's garden now, actually."

"That is good," you said, positing it was better than nothing.

"Yes, but... I do miss cinnamon," she said with a chuckle.

You relayed what she said––minus the cinnamon––to Ahkmen as you waited for the people, who were dragging along a group of goats, to pass by.

"That ought to make our search easier," Ahk said, and no sooner had he'd finished the phrase than he was being pulled on again, your left hand clasping his and your right held by Tiamat.

Frequent turns led you from the northern-most side of the city and into the south, where the streets were less disorganized than they had been. You tried to stop Tiamat several times to look at some of the cuisine and textiles within the scattered markets, but to Ahk's relief she didn't notice you, and kept on her quick-footed pace headed for the spices.

Both you and Ahk fell into heavy pants as Tiamat finally drew to a stop in front of a large, clay storage house, staring up at the symbol carved above the entrance. Through the archway you could spy a few people moving about amongst the massive pots and jars of sandy colors.

When Tiamat made to enter, the two of you followed gingerly, looking like twins with your hands curled in front of your chests to avoid touching anything. You scanned the room as a whole before your eyes fell to one of the merchants, wrapped up in white desert attire and a large turban set on his head. He was speaking quietly to another man, so you ignored him for the time being, and returned your attention to Ahkmen.

"What is the spice you did name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Cardamom," he repeated. "It's just kind of... vaguely brown. Like split wheat."

"That is a good help," you said flatly, looking at the pyramid-like structures of spice nearly overflowing out of the tall clay vases, most of which could qualify as 'vaguely brown'.

"Cardamom," Tiamat tried the word, rolling the word unnecessarily. She turned to you and said in Akkadian, "it's a strange word, isn't it?"

"A little," you agreed with a giggle.

You and Tiamat watched as Ahk sniffed each spice individually, often having to bend down to get a full whiff of the scent. Each time he did so, he wrinkled up his nose, stepping away with a frown.

"Is it bad?" You asked on the first time he did this.

"No, it's just really strong," he said.

That was his continuing excuse for doing it at least ten more times throughout the 15 presented jugs. By the end of it, you were no closer to knowing cardamom's Akkadian name, much less actually having any cardamom.

He backed away from the jars with a frown, crossing his arms as he scanned over all of them once more.

"Nothing," he said.

"How may I help you?" Someone behind you asked, and all three of you turned to see the shopkeeper––the darkskinned merchant who wore a turban. He spoke in Akkadian, but he had an accent, one only Tiamat could pick up on.

"We're looking for a specific spice, but we only know the name in Egyptian," Tiamat said, gesturing vaguely in Ahk's direction.

"Alright," he said with a heavy brow, glancing between you. "What is it?"

You nudged Ahk and he said, "cardamom."

"Ah," the merchant nodded, "qaqullu."

Tiamat asked for him to say it again, but she didn't know the spice, and reported so with a confused look.

"I wouldn't expect ye' to, it's off from Kuru in the east," he said, gesturing out the door with a hand holding round bottle. "Route's been cut, so I haven-been able to get it."

Before you could do it, and to your immense surprise, the merchant repeated what he'd said to Ahkmen in Egyptian. Ahk had a similar look of surprise on his face.

"Do you know of any place that might have it?" Ahk asked with wide eyes. He almost didn't notice the way you grinned toothily up at him.

"You are so intense," you whispered to him.

"How do you even know that word? You asked me what soup meant just yesterday –"

"The King's garden, probably," the merchant interrupted. "But it would cost much."

"That's not a problem," Ahk said before Tiamat could respond.

The three of you bid a hasty thanks and good-bye to the merchant, who gave you an odd look as you raced out of the shop. Crowds had only grown more thick during your time indoors, meaning you could barely see past the moving bodies, and had to rely on Ahk and Tiamat for where you were supposed to go.

Tiamat led the way once more, winding back through the streets from the way you came. According to her, the King's palace was somewhat near to the center, but the gardens were held closer to the largest temple, which marked the exact center of the city. Ahkmen spied through the tall buildings a stretching tower, reaching into the sky in white stone and dark, green leaves. The closer you got, it became easier to realize that the garden resided in a massive temple complex that took up nearly half of the city dwelling on the western bank.

You stopped at a large bridge hanging over the wide Euphrates that split the city down the middle, staring at the sheer size of the rushing water compared to the thin stretches you and Ahk had travelled down. Travellers and chariots marched down the large brick street, wooden wheels pulled by strange creatures you'd never seen before. Most chariots carried one or two passengers, as well as a carriage for goods, such as food, stone, and cloth. A couple carried massive bushels of reeds. On either side of the bridge were familiar statues––the lions with the heads of men, of which you'd learned earlier were titled Lamassu. Soldiers with spears and sheathed swords stood at their sides.

The frequency of soldiers and guards increased as you approached the walls surrounding the temple of Marduk, whose name you only knew after extended conversations with both Tiamat and Zakiti. Ahkmen wasn't aware of the name, but that didn't stop him staring at the temple's might, six terraces building the material of humans into the unearthly heavens.

However, the temple ended up not being your final destination. Tiamat led you past the tower and to the south, running down a wide street that led directly to one of the city's outer walls. Once you stood at the wall's base, she took a sharp turn to the left, and took you to one of the city's entrances across the moat of water.

Across he bridge lay farms and smaller houses, as well as another wall––though much smaller––that had been built to fortify the growing city. The sun shined a bright white overhead, allowing the dewdrops on trees to shine and glitter across the small, town-like reaches.

"There," said Tiamat, pointing out to a shaded area protecting rows of plants. Some of them had tarps set out above them, but others had more permanent shade, effectively hiding a good number of rows from view.

Ahk squinted in the bright sun to try and make out the different types of plants growing there.

"Are we allowed to actually go into the garden?" Ahk asked, a question you relayed to Tiamat.

"I've never been," she said, and began forward across the bridge. "So I'm not actually sure."

You translated the general idea again.

"Well, I've run this much now," Ahk said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "Ought not to give up now."

The overbearing scent of mixed spices was quick to hit you, and the three of you slowed down as your noses burned. A few people were standing outside an open archway, the darkness inside containing several more people, and barrels worth of spices. To the left of that the growing continued in shadow, while sunloving plants enjoyed the last light of the day.

Ahkmen accidentally met the eyes of one of the people flanking the entrance, causing his gaze to shoot back down to the ground. The doorway, like many in Egypt, was raised partway off the ground to avoid tracking dust and sand into the building. He stepped over the frame, and stood blindly while his eyes adjusted to the major change in light. His squinting was disturbed when you bumped into him, muttering some sort of apology before you pressed your side to his, scanning the quiet room with a look of near menace.

Tiamat appeared to be in a similar state of apprehension, scanning the room in hopes of finding out whether or not you were allowed to be in there at all. You and Ahk hadn't noticed, but the symbol of the King was carved clearly above the small house, and those who stood nearby were dressed in deep colors of red, purple, and green––a stark difference from the farmers who dwelled in much simpler homes outside.

Your awkward glances eventually caught the eye of a much older man, whose beard curled magnificently between robes of green and silver silk. His dark, bushy brow furrowed as his eyes fell specifically to you––a sort of anger, or perhaps confusion, overtook his curiosity and he stepped forward.

"My name is Sagar," the man said, taking your hand and bowing his head slightly. You stiffened, and Ahk quickly came over to your side, wrapping an arm around the back of your waist.

"Hello, I, uh – I am here with my friends," you replied in Akkadian, joined soon on the other side by Tiamat.

Compared to you and Ahk, Tiamat looked a great deal older as well––neither of you had gotten the chance to ask her age, but considering you were about as short as a 10 year old, and Ahk was twiggy as a 12 year old, it created a considerable difference. You assumed this was why Sagar very suddenly averted his attention to Tiamat, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Like you, Tiamat grimaced, her shoulders tightening.

"How may I help you?" Sagar asked, his voice low and weathered against your softer ones. Tiamat stuttered before she found an answer.

"We are looking for a spice, qaqullu," she said slowly.

"You must be a woman of noble bearings," he said with a smile.

"Well –"

"No," you answered for her. "But he is."

You pointed to Ahk with your thumb, who shot you an offended look before he confronted Sagar.

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk said, easily recalling the only phrase he knew in Akkadian.

Sagar looked him up and down, almost hesitant to speak.

"Egyptian?" He asked.

You nodded, somewhat impressed considering Ahk was trying to wear more Babylonian clothes, but Ahkmen just looked unsettled, shifting his weight between his feet.

"I've been helping them look for cardamom for their beer," Ahk explained quietly.

"If you have the means to pay for it, the King does have seeds. The price has gone up, though," he added, "due to some... outer pressures."

"You mean the trade network?" Ahk asked, kinking a single brow.

"I'm afraid so. It'll be several gold bands or sacks of grain."

Several?? Ahk's eyes bulged as he heard the price. While he was regaining his words, his mouth fallen open, Sagar translated the sentence back into Akkadian for Tiamat.

"Mother of Gods," Tiamat blurted out. "We'll, uh – we'll be right back."

She herded the two of you out the door––which wasn't a very hard task––and took you round the corner so the doorway was no longer visible.

"I don't think I have that much grain and I certainly don't have that much gold," she said quickly, her eyes flickering between you and Ahk despite the fact that he couldn't understand her.

"We have many gold," you said, retaining most of your optimism easily.

"Okay, wait, we don't have that much gold," Ahk said as soon as he vaguely translated what you said. He turned to you and continued, "we still need to get through Elam and into Harappa. And we'll still need a lot of money once we get there so we don't starve after, like, three days of being in the city."

"Hmm..." you hummed quietly, your brow knotted together as you picked at the skin on your chin.

The two of them waited for you while you thought deeply, staring at the ground.

"We can steal," you suggested after a moment of silence.

"Again??"

"You say it all the time, that it is fun to steal, and from Kings," you said rather loudly, causing Ahk to shoot forward and silence you with a hand held tight over your mouth, simultaneously pushing you against the nearest wall.

"That man in there knew Egyptian, and I'm pretty sure he works for the King," he said quietly.

You stared at each other, iron in your gaze and steel in his.

"What is happening right now?" Tiamat asked, and at that point you recalled that, once more, you were not alone. Ahk had a similar reaction, backing up as his hands zipped behind his back.

You explained the short conversation to her, at which point she nodded with much the same expression as Ahk's when he thought deeply.

"What's the King like?" Ahk asked, knowing little more of the man other than his name. You translated.

"His name is Gidar," she began, allowing you to translate each sentence before she continued. "He is quiet, keeps to himself. He has funded building and farming projects, though, and he upholds the law, so no one really bothers him."

"Are his punishments violent?"

That one took you a little longer to figure out––you didn't know the Akkadian word for 'violent' or 'punishments,' so instead you said something more along the lines of 'does he kill or hurt people who do bad'.

"Like stealing?" She asked.

"Sure," you said with a shrug.

"He will cut off your hands and kill you."

"... oh," you mumbled, grimacing as you turned to Ahk and translated.

"Well, then we better not get caught," he said, placing his hands on his hips.

You glanced to Tiamat with an odd look.

"I do not think that is something we can ask her to do," you whispered, leaning into Ahk.

"Probably not," he said after a moment's thought. "Tell her to go back to the brewery. We'll be back there soon, I think."

"Today?" You asked, your eyes wide.

"Tonight," he nodded.

Late afternoon, and the warm, fiery colors it brought sunk into the horizon, and the stars chased after that light, appearing easily in the sky surrounding a simpler town than the centers of Karanduniash. Only small torches burnt outside the main walls, usually hung by entrances to the clay huts built up from the earth. Some houses were illuminated brightly by fire places, casting squares of light onto the ground from windows, but many were climbing up onto their roofs with rugs and blankets.

You watched the evening progress from a spot near the King's spice garden which, now that you'd stared at it for a couple hours, looked incredibly inconspicuous for such a rich store. An alleyway hid you from sight of the caretakers inside the garden, and a silver earring from Ahk allowed you a hearty, thick stew, steaming with warmth in your bowls.

With a grin you clinked your wooden bowls together before raising it up, forgoing your spoon in favor of slurping the soup. He chuckled, matching your behavior as he glanced past your shoulder, to the garden, and then ultimately to one of the nearby houses in his line of sight.

More people up on the roof––smoke billowed into the air, long shadows and brightly lit faces indicated the bonfire now burning on the rooftop. A couple louder shouts, though still not loud enough for him to understand, and laughter came from there. Ahk recalled with jarring suddenness nights spent on his friend's roof's, cooking fish and warming beer over flames. Fireflies sometimes drifted through the streets below, but what always stood above were looming palm trees, silhouetted against the evening sky rife with stars.

All he could see of the stars was through the thin gap between the houses where you now sat, as anything outside of looking directly up was fuzzed by torchlight. At least the scent of stew still tempted him; he turned his direction back to his food and felt considerably better after finishing.

"I think we take hot stew for granted," he said after a full minute of staring at his empty bowl.

"It is hard to make when we move," you said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes, you... you need spices, and – and wheat, or barley, or it will be hot fish water," you said in complete seriousness, looking up to him with a critically thinking eye that sent him into laughter.

"Hot fish water??" He repeated, a wide, sweet smile across his face that had you blushing.

"That is what that is!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "keep quiet, my dear."

"I am not your deer," you said flatly, and returned to the last of your stew.

His heart beat painfully, warmth following that pulsing depth. His smile fell, as well, as imagination––and longing––seized him, and he very nearly pulled you into his lap. Instead he dug his nails into his palm, and proceeded to thoroughly imagine the entire scenario, were he not a coward.

He would take your hands and pull you in. You would follow without hesitation, slotting your knees on either side of his hips, and resting yourself on his thighs. Then you'd ask why he did this, and he would say something suave––something like 'just wanted to see you better'. He'd raise his hand and push the hair out of your face to see your dark, inky eyes, and the red mark above your brow. And he would ask–

"How did you get that mark on your forehead?"

You paused your eating and Ahk stiffened, realizing he just spoke aloud his thoughts.

"My parents did give it to me," you said quietly as you set your now-empty bowl aside. "It was... on my mother, not there forever. It – it came off, but they did want me to always have my third eye open. And they hit it in with sindoor."

"Sindoor?"

"It is from Harappa, I think... I do.. I remember that, in that time, I was in stone homes, with flags of red and gold, and the food.. was very sweet. I think that it is Harappa, what I remember," you said, slowly coming to terms with your own memories.

"You remember your time there?" Ahk asked, raising his brow.

"Only a little," you said with a shrug. "But the mark is where everything is made, by Gods, by us. It is..," you sighed deeply, "I do not know how to say it in Egyptian."

"Oh," he said. His knees pulled ever so slightly closer to his chest, scraping his sandals on the rough gravel. "Can you draw it?"

"... maybe?"

You moved to your knees, searching your immediate surroundings for a stick or rock.

The stick dragged through the loose dirt, forming shapes that soom became ideas––one triangle to represent bread, beside two, and then a blank, empty space you circled.

"It is... nothing. It is when you have no bread, that is a number too," you said, watching Ahk carefully to guage if he fully understood. "Because the life does not.. fully live, without our math."

"The absence of something isn't a number," Ahk said with a frown, his intense gaze switching from the image to you.

"I do not know," you mumbled, pulling your knees to your chest. "It is only what my parents did say."

The stray expression on your face was solidified with wandering eyes, trailing off to the side of the alley wall. Ahk was still in a state of stupefaction, staring at your features––the curl of your lashes, or the warmth of your lips, whose mirage always found his cheek in dreams and fantasies.

Before he knew it he was leaning forward, at last reaching out for you, fingers numb with nervousness scraping against the earth. You still wouldn't look to him, but he continued, thoughtlessly, to creep closer, his hand hovering close enough to your waist to feel your heat.

"The man is leaving," you whispered, the words acting like ice over Ahkmen's brain.

He quickly withdrew, clearing his throat and tracing your eyeline back to the King's garden. There was, in fact, a silhouette of a man leaving the garden hut, settling a tarp over the door and its' symbol before he disappeared from view.

"Give it a few minutes," he muttered back, his eyes set dead upon the disappearing figure. "He might come back."

Ahkmen sat back down on his butt, the pebbles beneath him scratching as he adjusted himself against the wall. You glanced to him for a moment, offering a small smile when you saw his furrowed brow, lessening his anxiety if only minutely.

The two of you talked quietly for a little while longer, keeping up your cover as vagrant friends, until Ahk was assured the guard wouldn't be returning. He kept a continuous eye on the garden, and was quick to move to his feet after he decided it was safe. Your hand slipped into his without him asking, a grip he solidified as you jogged, looking up and down the street you crossed.

No one.

The flap the man set over the doorway was a meek form of protection, and was easily bypassed with nothing more than your hands. It rippled behind you as you entered, but soon fell silent, hiding you and Ahk from view of the street.

Inside the garden's storeroom was even darker than the night outside––the flap blocked out the light of torches, and a ceiling concealed the sky. You squinted as you tried to see, eventually making out the shaky forms of closed caskets and containers. Most of them had lids made of pottery, but some had nets wrapped around the high necks, secured tightly into place with complex knots.

"You must see for it," you whispered to him. "I do not know the smell, or the look."

"I don't really know how it looks either, I'll be honest with you," he said. "I've only ever seen it fully processed in one of the kitchens."

"Why did you not say that?!" You hissed.

"I didn't think it would be a problem!" He whispered harshly.

"You –" you sucked in a breath, "– you find the thing, I will go see that we are not found."

"Yes, dear," he said in a drawling tone he had used many times for those two words.

Before he knew it his back was slammed against a wall, sending pain shooting up his spine and into his cranium. He nearly let out a pained cry, but your hand zipped up to cover his mouth, your other arm keeping his chest pinned to the wall. He stared wide-eyed down at you, shocked at the force you so easily used.

Your fingers over his lips.

Your hand on his chest.

Your leg slotted between his.

His cheeks were set ablaze.

"You do not get the bad part of the times in Egypt, when you did steal and make fun with guards," you said, glowering up at him. "But this is not a place where you are rich. You can not pay for innocence. Not here. And this price is death if we are seen, like it is always for me, in Egypt and Babylon."

He gulped down the knot in his throat, only breathing when you gently pulled away. You still glared at him, but it was less intense, and you put more distance between you.

"Do see the cardmoms," you mumbled before you left.

The flap settling back into place was the last sound he heard from you, your fabric shoes allowing you to pad quietly away without making any noise. An intense, overpowering silence followed, darkened hands rubbing it like lavender upon his skin, familiar and uncomfortable.

He spent the following hour or two searching through the assorted jars, carefully raising up mud lids or untying thick rope. Many of the spices were ones he'd tried before––some reminding him of Egypt and others bringing memories of the few countries he travelled to during his time as Prince. Now he was stealing not just for fun, but because he had to. He couldn't afford what he was taking.

Cardamom, who carried a sweet, fruity scent, ended up being at the opposite end of the room, making it one of the last he inspected. Its' scent was also incredibly distinct, and the moment he found it he knew most certainly it was cardamom. He grinned.

It wasn't the seeds, either––it was the actual powdered spice, meaning it was already ready to put in the beer. But there was very little of it, the whole of the container being around the size of his head.

He sighed almost wearily, leaning sideways against the wall.

If you were still here, he could've apologized, and you'd both probably be gone by now. As he phased out at the thought of you, he mindlessly stroked the clay pot.

Approaching footsteps broke his trance. His eyes shot up, automatically tucking the cardamom into his clothes and running off into the night garden, in which the medicinal herbs were grown. He sucked in a sharp breath, realizing acutely that he was now ankle deep in wet earth, though fortunately, in-between the rows instead of on them.

The tarp at the garden's entrance flapped again as the stranger entered. There was little protecting him from being discovered now, and he fled off to the sun garden, careful to not slosh his feet in the mud. It was then, when mud had splattered up to his calf, that he remembered his leather shoes were still inside the storeroom, waiting to be discovered.

Thoughts flew wildly around his head, his quick-thinking talents melting away into timed panic. Wide eyes flickered from the archway between the shadow garden and the storeroom, and then to the arch leading into the sun garden, then back to the stranger, who pivoted on their heel.

He fled into the next room the moment the steps even hinted of growing louder, pressing his back against the opposite wall, his chest heaving up and down.

Again his frantic eyes searched the room for anything that might aid his escape. Tarps were stretched taut between wooden poles, blocking access to the outside, but allowing sunlight to stream in. He looked up and realized with sickness that the only way out was up.

Digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek, he tied fabric around the clay pot, ensuring it wouldn't fall from his grasp. He tensed his muscles, preparing himself mentally before he jumped up and grasped the top of the pole with his fingers.

Steps continued to get closer, now treading through the silted earth and sparking a dreadful terror that shivered down his neck in much the way it had when you slammed him against the wall. He scrambled up, his bare feet digging into the splintered pole before he threw himself over the other edge of the tarp. A loud thud came from him as he fell on his back––once more injuring it––bringing from him a pained groan.

Footsteps grew even closer, marking the sign of running feet that had Ahk clambering to his legs, cradling the cardamom to his chest as he ran. Bits of gravel and hay dug into his bare feet, bringing with them sharp pains that had Ahk convinced he was bleeding. When he looked behind himself, however, he found no trail, and slowed his sprint as he crossed the gate into the main city.

Deep breaths wracked his chest and he collapsed partways, leaning the weight of his upper body on his knees, fingers splayed out on the heated skin. He quickly looked behind him to be sure, and after finding nothing continued on into the city. It would take a while before he reached the brewery.

He paused in an alleyway for a short few minutes, checking the state of his heel and finding it alright. Reddened and dry, but unpunctured, despite the pain being sent through his muscles. With a sigh he leaned back, closing his eyes.

What a nightmare.

He could not pull his thoughts from the image of you angry, blazing with an inequality that had clearly been irritating you for a while. Even with his lie he alienated himself from you.

You would forgive him, but not for the reasons Ahkmen wanted you to. You'd forgive him because you had to, because the only other option was fending for yourself through another country and a half until you got to Harappa, where even there safety wasn't assured. But you wouldn't forgive him because you loved him, or because you knew he could do better. Horrible guilt flared in his chest, turning to bile in the back of his throat.

Whether or not you intended this reaction, it was there nonetheless, and Ahkmen did his best to force it down with logic. It wasn't a big deal. He could do better. And, he supposed, he got the cardamom, so that had to count for something.

His hands were still wrapped around the pot discreetly when he entered the vacant city plaza, heading quickly down the steps into the brewery. From the entrance he could hear the soft sounds of burning fire, and when he pulled away the door he noticed immediately warm light and soft voices, stirring with a mixer that clunked gently against the side of the cauldron.

The two of you went quiet when Tiamat noticed Ahk standing awkwardly at the doorway. He glanced between you before reaching into his clothes, pulling out the cask of cardamom so highly coveted in the last couple hours.

Tiamat gasped, a wide grin instantly spreading across her face. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"You did get it?" You asked, stepping around the boiling pot to stand in front of Ahk.

"Yeah," he said, still reeling from his escape. "Almost got caught. I had to jump over the tarps 'round the sun garden."

"Jump??" You asked.

"Well – more vaulting over them," he said. That didn't clear it up at all, but you were grateful anyways.

He sat in the corner of the limestone room, watching you and Tiamat mix a handful of the spice in the large cauldron, and testing the scent as you stirred. You continued to talk in hushed whispers of Akkadian, your shadows casted long against the low fire. Sleepiness was already beginning to take over him, leaning his head back against the cool wall, and letting his eyes slip shut.

When he came to, Tiamat had gone, and you were left alone to tend to your beer. You still stood atop a box that lifted you up to look over the jug, slowly stirring the thick mixture. Your face was flushed from the heat, and the strands of your hair that fell in front of your eyes casted shadows on your cheeks and brow.

After a yawn and a stretch, he lifted himself to stand, and shuffled over to your side.

"I'm sorry for endangering you," he said quietly, hesitant to look and even more hesitant to touch.

"I do not know that word," you said without looking up.

"Putting you in a place where you might get hurt."

"Oh," you glanced up to him, but didn't linger before you returned to the vat. "It is okay. I know you do not know very much better."

"It's not really okay, I should've thought beyond my own nose."

"A little," you agreed before falling silent.

After a minute he asked, "is there a way I can make it up to you?"

"You had the cardamom, that is good," you chuckled. "But you almost got caught?"

"Ah, that," he said with a long sigh that made you giggle again.

He recited to you the events of the evening that progressed after you left. He conveniently left out a few details––such as almost crying because he'd upset you––but included how he'd injured himself, how the garden official was hot on his trail, and how he accidentally left his shoes in the storeroom. You nodded along.

A beat of silence passed after his story ended, broken only by the bubbling of beer.

"You are filthy," you said.

"Thanks," he said with a frown.

You set a lid over the cask, feeding the fire only a little more before you stepped down from the pedestal.

"I know where we must go," you said, stopping in front of him to look up and meet his eye.

"To bed?" He asked hopefully.

"No."

His heated skin finally calmed down enough to feel a cool breeze as you led him out of the brewery, and back into the empty town center. For a few minutes you walked in silence, and every now and then you'd turn down a street, directions he thoughtlessly followed.

The scent of water hit him before he saw it, and soon the brick path led out to a crystal-white terrace, holding descending steps on either side of the raised platform. Below sloshed the inky waters of the canal, reflecting his warped features. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was halted when you took his hand, gently pulling him down the glazed brick steps. Their tops were white, and the rims beneath carried a familiar shade of blue.

Olive-colored trees grew on the riverside, barely reaching any taller than the platform that now stood proud above him. Only a single other person was there––a bald man drifting on a skiff at the other bank of the river. He was easy to ignore, which you did gladly, and continued to pull Ahk to the riverside.

"You have dirt," you said, scanning him up and down. "And here is where you do clean your body. This is your forever. No more of the home baths, and your smelly things."

"You mean my lavender?"

"Etuvaka. You know what I say," you said with a stern look.

"I know," he said quietly, sitting on the ledge of the stone dock with his feet swinging in the water.

You took a seat beside him, slipping off your shoes and rolling up your pants before you dipped your legs in beside his.

"How are your feet?" You asked.

"Alright," he said as he massaged the bottoms of them. "I thought they were bleeding, but they aren't, so I must be alright."

"Take your clothe off," you said, suddenly moving up to your knees and scooting behind his back.

He chuckled but undid the tie around his waist, pulling the green shawl off his shoulders. It fell easy to the crook of his elbow, and you tugged it down further, eventually pulling the fabric out from being tucked into his skirt, and tossing it aside to the marble floor.

"You have... color," you said quietly after a moment of just staring at his back.

"Sort of dark? Like dirt?" He asked, attempting to look over his shoulder at you, but settling for staring at the wall beside him.

"A little," you said.

Your fingers touched the top of his spine, trailing down the bumps and ridges showing prominently through the skin of a man overworked and weary. When you pressed harder, even slightly, he hissed and jerked away.

"Careful there," he said, clearing his throat to mask his whimper.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

Ahk continued to wash his feet and legs free of the mud while you stayed knelt behind him, your touch brushing against him every so often. He finished rather quickly, but enjoyed your hesitant fingers so greatly that he pretended to keep washing himself, hoping to feel you at his back and shoulders again.

"You are Shu fully equipped," you began to murmur, your palms settling on his shoulders and digging softly into the skin. "You have not been taken to the God's place of execution, for you are covered with the kenu-garment. You were not made to enter into the God's place of execution, for you are the Great One, baboon-shaped; you have not entered into the God's place of execution, the knife has no power over you."

He sat in silence for another moment, his mouth hanging subconsciously open.

"That was... perfect Egyptian," he turned around, dragging water on his leg, "where did you learn that?"

"My time in your class, in Memphis, was not for nothing," you said with a giggle, as though it was inconsequential, as though you were normal. "It is one of your spells, for being killed by a King. It is best, because that is your crime."

He could do nothing but stare, confounded.

"I could fall in love with you," he blurted out, watching with dread as your expression fell.

You pursed your lips softly, your gaze falling to the river behind him. To his credit, he hadn't given everything away, though by the look on your face he might as well have.

"I am not a person that people fall in love with," you said quietly.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader

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the-modernmary · 4 years

Text

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 4)

Chapter summary: The BAU makes it's plan to get inside your law firm, and you reflect on your previous relationship with Aaron — the good and the bad.

A/N: i'm baaaaack! this is a little bit of a filler with a hell of a lot of introspection + background on the past relationship with hotch

masterlist || read on ao3

'Cause the love that you gave that we made

Wasn't able to make it enough for you

To be open wide, no

-Alanis Morissette, “You Oughta Know”

~~~~~~~

The plan was simple enough. They had a warrant to bug the office, but lawyers are naturally suspicious, so they needed somebody who already had a rapport with partners to place the bugs. That’s where you came in. They were going to give you pens and other random office supplies with covert listening devices in them, and you just needed to leave them around. You were also going to wear an earpiece so that they could talk you through it every step of the way. Easy enough.

Aaron stood at the front of the room, his hands resting on his hips and his face stone cold. You had seen Aaron on television a few times when he had to speak to the media, but that was the extent of your knowledge of his FBI persona. You had never given much thought to his work life, and the only times he even talked about it was in passing. Watching him completely command the attention of the room was really a site to behold. Suddenly, you understood all of Aaron’s career changes and his unbridled ambition- he was made to be FBI Director.

You nodded slowly as you listened to their plans, trying to ignore the side of your brain that was screaming danger. You looked over at Aaron, hoping that he would understand your unspoken question and would give you an honest answer. When he met your eyes, he gave you a subtle nod, as if to say You’ll be fine, we’ll be right there with you. That was the only confirmation you really needed. Aaron looked so confident that it was almost infectious. Besides, a dead civilian wouldn’t look very good on Aaron’s FBI record, so you had to believe that it really was going to be that simple.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, I can do all that. I’m scheduled to go in this afternoon,” you told the room, avoiding everybody else’s eyes on you. You could tell that some of them weren’t totally sold on the idea yet.

“Good, that gives us just enough time to get everything set up. I want you all to go over the office blueprints with Y/N and set up a concrete plan. I don’t want anything left up to chance. While you do that, I will head down to intelligence with Garcia so that we can grab the coverts and prepare them,” Aaron said firmly, and you found yourself nodding along, as if you were a member of his team.

The way he gave orders was almost hypnotic because it was so different from the way he gave orders during sex. When he was with you, there was always a hint of affection and reverence in every word he said. Here and talking to his coworkers, it was almost paternal, like he was assigning weekly chores. You were getting a more full picture of who Aaron Hotchner was, and it was exciting, if not a little overwhelming.

You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of ruffling papers as Reid spread out the floor plans to the office across the table. The next hour and a half was spent going back and forth with the group of profilers to see what the best course of action was. You let them take the lead considering you had zero experience in this particular field, but you were pleasantly surprised when they asked for your opinions, asking you whether or not anybody ever went in certain areas in the building. Working with them was easy, even with David Rossi clearly psychoanalyzing every move you made, probably trying to figure out how the hell you and Aaron fit together.

After figuring out the best excuses to get in each of the partner’s offices, the team had decided that you were prepped and ready. “You’re welcome to grab some lunch in the cafeteria on the second floor,” Reid told you as the rest of the team was slowly filing out of the conference room. “But the food’s not great, to be honest. The only people who ever really eat there are tourists and kids on field trips.”

You raised an eyebrow at him as you shouldered your purse. “With all that security, the FBI has tour guides?” you asked amusedly.

Reid nodded eagerly as he finished folding up the blueprints. “The FBI has actually had a tour component since 1937, even before it settled here in the Hoover building. After 9/11, they stopped the tours and closed the building to the public and didn’t reopen until 2008 when the FBI made the Education Center. It closed and was redesigned multiple times since then, and now it’s known as the FBI Experience. You have to contact your congressman to request a tour at least four weeks in advance so that the FBI can do a background check,” he said quickly, his hands doing half of the talking for him.

You laughed as the two of you made your way to the door. Aaron had mentioned something about the genius Dr. Reid in passing, and he was just as amusing and endearing as Aaron said he was. “That sounds like a lot of work. If that’s the case, then I might have better luck just asking one of you to give me a tour after this whole thing is done. You sound like you know more than the tour guides anyways.”

Reid stood up a little taller at the compliment, but your focus was immediately drawn to Aaron’s office. Specifically, Aaron, in his office, alone, with the blinds shut and the door wide open. You had promised to be on your best behavior, but the temptation was almost too much. You wanted to see more of Hotch, the FBI agent. “Excuse me for a second, Doctor,” you mumbled, flashing him an innocent smile.

Spencer gave you a small wave as you walked off, headed straight for Aaron’s office, your heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. As if sensing your presence, Aaron’s head shot up the second you stepped into his office, his face void of all emotions. You shut the door slowly behind you, having to hide your smile when you saw him shift in his seat nervously. “Y/N, this isn’t the place-”

You held both of your hands up as you made your way towards his desk. “Don’t worry, Agent. I didn’t come here with the intention to seduce you in front of all your coworkers,” you promised. “Although that can always be arranged.”

You were rewarded with a small grin from Aaron and something that was close to laughter, although it just sounded more like an exhale. “How can I help you?” he asked, unable to mask the lightheartedness in his words.

You sat on the edge of his desk. “Well, I’m going to be rubbing shoulders with a potential serial killer for the rest of the day. Don’t I get a kiss for good luck? Doesn’t even have to be a kiss on the mouth,” you teased. Aaron tensed up. That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Maybe he remembered that he was at work, and there was no room for playfulness in the FBI. Or maybe he realized that you would be the second woman he’s been with that he’s sending into a dangerous situation.

This was all new territory for the two of you. Previously, there were so many unspoken rules for the relationship, and that’s what made it work. It kept everything easy and fun and none of you had to sift through any baggage.

He didn’t talk about cases he was on and you didn’t mention Jack or Haley- not that you would even want to. He would order dinner for the two of you, but it couldn’t be from anywhere he used to take Haley. So that took away their Chinese place and their pizza place and, God forbid, their Italian place they went to for anniversaries- you preferred Indian anyways. Every once in a while, you’d meet up in hotels that were way too nice and expensive for a fling, but it was always somewhere out of the city, like Baltimore or Fredericksburg, because between the two of you, somebody in DC was bound to recognize one of you.

But there you were, sitting on his desk in the middle of the FBI headquarters, completely thrown off your game. Part of you wondered why he had wanted to continue this thing with you. It wasn’t some midlife crisis- he was too composed for that- and it wasn’t to help heal heartbreak the way it was two years ago. You weren’t complaining about it, though. There was something addictive about Aaron, something that made you think about him even when you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months, and a nagging voice in the back of your head told you that he probably thought the same thing about you. At least, you hoped he did.

You were so entranced in your thoughts that you didn’t even realize he was talking to you. You refocused your eyes and snapped your head back in his direction, where he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. “Hm?” you questioned.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, like he was trying to read your mind. “I asked if you were sure that you’re ready for this? You all came up with a plan faster than I expected.”

You put on a practiced smile as you slid off his desk, careful not to rustle any of the precariously stacked files next to you. “What can I say, I’m a fast learner. Plus, I went through a major James Bond phase in 7th grade, so this is like a dream come true for me,” you joked, and that seemed to satisfy him.

His face softened, and you once again found yourself fascinated by how much younger he looked when he let himself relax for even half a second. “It’s going to be fine, and I’m going to be talking to you through the earpiece the whole time,” he said. It surprised you just how comforting that single sentiment was, but something about Aaron walking you through the whole process made it less daunting.

Casual flirting with him had worked at the beginning of the conversation, so you decided to try that again. “It’ll be like you’re whispering in my ear all day,” you mused, batting your eyelashes. “That’s kind of sexy, in an exhibitionist kind of way.”

Aaron chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Behave,” he told you firmly, but there was the slightest hint of playfulness.

You made your way towards his office door, throwing a wink his way as you did. “No promises,” you sang. “But I’ll do my best.”

After grabbing something to eat at the cafeteria- Reid was right, the food was terrible- it was time for you to head to the weirdest internship shift you’ve ever had. Most of the team would be in an undercover van outside of the building so that they could listen to everything. You were able to get a ride from Morgan in one of the FBI SUVs, which would drop you off a few blocks away so it didn’t look suspicious. The two of you made some small talk on the way, asking about school and life at the FBI, all very surface level stuff, but nice nonetheless. It helped calm your nerves.

After a while, he pulled over and handed you a bag from the backseat. It was a simple black satchel, not very different from the usual one you would bring to work. “Okay, here is everything you’ll need. You remember the plan, right?”

You nodded quickly as you put in the earpiece, trying to hide any signs of nervousness. “Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. “Honestly, this isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done while working.”

Derek chuckled, maybe despite himself. “Remember, we’ll be right outside of the building. Just treat it like a normal day.”

You didn’t think that was even going to be possible, but luckily, you were proven wrong the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“Woah, hold the door for me!”

You stuck your hand out quickly just before the elevator doors closed, and your friend Chris came barreling through. He was a third year when you were a first year at George Washington and the two of you met in your tax law class. You quickly became fast friends, and you met most of your law school friends through him. When he got hired as a staff attorney at the same firm you were interning at, you couldn’t have been more excited.

You clutched the satchel a little tighter, knowing full well that the entire BAU was about to hear this conversation. “Hey,” you said, your voice light.

Chris just raised an eyebrow at you. “Hey?” he asked incredulously. “That’s it? What the hell happened to you last night? We were all supposed to go out and you didn’t show up. No phone call, nothing. And then the only response we got from you was three hours later when you just said ‘Sorry, something came up, next time!’”

You sighed and reached over to press the button for the third floor. It was crazy to think that the interrogation had been less than 24 hours ago- it felt like a lifetime to you. Aaron’s voice came through the earpiece. You can’t tell anybody about the investigation. Make an excuse and change the subject.

“Sorry, mom,” you huffed, staring at the elevator doors. “I got busy, and I’m not attached to my phone all the time like a certain newlywed. How are you and Sam, by the way?” You looked at Chris pointedly with that comment and, like expected, he was frantically shoving his phone back in his pocket. Chris had gotten married two months ago and was still very much in the honeymoon phase.

Good job, Aaron said into the earpiece, and it made you smile despite yourself.

Which, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by Chris. He narrowed his eyes at you for a few seconds before gasping. “You’re deflecting! And I know that smile.” He thought about it for a second before his eyes went wide. “Oh my god, you ditched us last night because you were getting railed.”

Your friends knew you way too well. You rolled your eyes at Chris. “Wow, that is a reach if I’ve ever seen one.”

The elevator doors opened and you all but sprinted out of there. “You’re not denying it!” Chris accused and you had to bite back a groan of annoyance. You loved your friends, but you did not want to have this conversation right now. “Come on, spill. What is their name?”

You heard Aaron take a sharp intake of breath. You weren’t going to tell Chris, even if you weren’t currently wired where all of Aaron’s coworkers could hear. You never told your friends about Aaron because you were worried about their reaction. They would have worried about his age, or if he was taking advantage of you, or if you were in any danger because of his job. They would have pressured you to pursue more of a “true” relationship with Aaron, and you weren’t going to pretend like that was even a possibility.

You liked Aaron, and it really seemed like Aaron genuinely liked you, too, just not in a way that would make sense to people, especially not your friends. Aaron was always nice to you. He treated you like an equal, not just some random college girl he was sleeping with. He was interesting, and being around him was easy. Aaron would invite you over sometimes and the two of you would just do your work while eating take out before you would have sex. Sometimes, you’d ask him for help with your homework, because there really wasn’t any better tutor, and he was happy to give it. At the time when you first met, the two of you were just kind of lonely, and it was nice to have somebody around who just got it.

You also liked the version of you that Aaron brought out- smarter, wittier, and even a little bit more put together. Definitely much more ambitious. And if seeing him at work was indicative of anything, you thought that he liked the version of himself that you seemed to bring out- more easygoing and playful, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And also, yeah, the sex was really fucking good.

You sped up your steps, but Chris was right at your heels. “You’re such a chismoso, but fine. His first name is nunya, last name business.”

You heard him groan behind you, and you turned around so that you were walking backwards. “Y/N, you suck so bad. This is going in the group chat, and we are going to find out who you’re sleeping with.”

You laughed, finally feeling relaxed and calm for the first time since you heard about this plan. “Mhm, good luck with that,” you called to him. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to get to work. Not all of us get paid to sit around and look pretty.”

“Yeah, you just get college credit for it,” he snorted and you just turned back around. You were sure you were going to get so much shit from your friends later, but the bag on your shoulder was getting heavier every second.

Placing the listening devices was as easy as they told you it was going to be. You were able to go throughout your shift fairly normally, sitting through meetings and writing emails, mostly. If you needed to get into somebody’s office, you would just tell them that they needed to sign something or ask them if they wanted any more coffee. The only times Aaron would say something into the earpiece was if they couldn’t get a signal on the device and you needed to move it slightly.

When it was time for your break, you flipped your phone over in your hands a few times, debating on whether or not you should text Aaron. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to hear him moan in your ear while his hands roamed every inch of you. You desperately wanted his mouth on you, his head in between your thighs. You could imagine Aaron on top of you, brushing your hair from your face, and telling you how pretty you were. Maybe you’d text Aaron later, when he wasn’t in a cramped van.

“Y/N?” You snapped your head up to see a woman you knew to be Julian DuPont’s assistant. DuPont owned the law firm, and he came from a very rich and powerful DC family. He was the whole reason that the FBI couldn’t just sneak in and bug the office themselves- he would be suspicious about anybody he didn’t personally know. Even having been an intern at the law firm for almost an entire year, you had only spoken to him one-on-one a handful of times. Sure, they were all positive experiences, but you knew he could lie to almost anybody.

“Yes?” you asked cautiously.

She gave you a sweet smile. “Mr. DuPont has asked to see you in his office right away.”

Your mouth instantly dried up and your heart started to beat so fast that you would have sworn everybody could hear it. “Uh… Yeah, of course, um… Did he happen to say what it was about?” you stuttered out. He was the first office you had placed the bug in. Maybe he found out and was about to fire you in front of everybody. Or worse, your brain supplied unhelpfully.

The assistant shook her head and guided you wordlessly to DuPont’s office. Stay calm, came Aaron’s voice through the earpiece. I will tell you everything you need to say if you get stuck, but you’ll be fine.

When you got to the office, the assistant close the door behind you, leaving you alone in the office with Mr. DuPont himself. He gave you a warm smile, which should have comforted you, but you didn’t think you had ever seen him smile for anything not related to winning a case or getting money. “Sit, please,” he ordered, gesturing lazily to the chair in front of his desk.

You tried to keep your breathing even as you sat down quickly, rubbing your hands on the tops of your thighs. It felt like you were in the principal’s office. You stayed silent so that he could have the first word.

“As you may know, I’ve been watching your progress very closely, both here and with your professors,” he stated, leaning forwards in his chair. “You’re very intelligent, and I think you have a bright career in front of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, trying to put as much confidence in your words as possible. There was a ‘but’ coming, you felt it. You could vaguely make out mumbling in your earpiece, like the BAU were trying to profile what Julian was going to say half a second before he said it.

DuPont straightened out a pen on his desk- to be specific, the pen with the listening device in it. Your breath caught in your throat. “I would like to capitalize on that potential and have you work here after you’ve graduated, but I need to see how you do in an actual courtroom. Law students are allowed to practice law under the supervision of an attorney, which would be me. If you do well, and you pass the bar, you’ll have a job here as an associate right after graduation. Think of it as a trial run, or a try-before-you-buy program.”

You let out a sigh of relief, not even caring how dramatic it may have looked to Julian, and you closed your eyes for a second just to ground yourself. He didn’t know, it was just a job offer. The secret was safe. The earpiece went silent again. “Sir- I… Thank you so much. I would love to, of course. It would be an absolute honor.”

DuPont nodded and leaned back in his chair. “That’s good to hear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to. We will discuss this more at a later date.”

You shook his hand quickly before exiting, your heart pounding. You were going to need a drink, or five, tonight. Maybe it was stupid, but part of you wanted to hear something from your earpiece. It didn’t even need to be Aaron speaking, but you wanted somebody from the BAU to remind you that everything was okay.

Ignoring the questioning look from Chris, you sat down at your desk, attempting to process everything that just happened. Once the adrenaline went down, you let yourself get excited. A job offer, and a nice one at that, at a fancy private firm with a nice salary. You were set.

You grabbed your phone so that you could send the news to your friends, but a notification caught your eye.

From: Aaron Hotchner

Congratulations, associate. I told you that you’d make a wonderful lawyer someday.

To: Aaron Hotchner

Thank you :) You know this means I’m going to practice my opening statements on you all the time, right??

From: Aaron Hotchner

I’m looking forward to it.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #my best habit #my writing

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