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angry-geese · 2 years

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Blood Ties - Chapter Thirty-six: Misery's Company

soulmate au Choso x reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence. slight blood and injury. very brief mention of suicide in the second to last paragraph

Synopsis: James reveals his plan for the culling game

a/n: sorry for the impromptu hiatus! things have been pretty busy around here and i haven't had nearly as much time/motivation to write as i'd like! ideally I'll be back to my bi-weekly update schedule soon!

Word count: 3.6k

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At some point in time it starts raining. The air is stale with an incoming storm. It’s cooled down considerably now. It's impossible to tell how much time has passed since they first entered this place, but James assumes it couldn't have been long.

When he reaches the sidewalk, he lights a cigarette. The pack is crumpled, and he finds he only has four left, making a mental note to grab more. Assuming he finds any.

This woman clutches her hands in front of her, which tremble faintly. Her head is bowed slightly—not in a greeting, more like in prayer. Her glasses have fallen down low on her nose, which she pushes back with a thumb.

“I suppose I owe you an apology for the cagey introduction.” She says. “I’m Maria. And you might be?”

Her hands fall to her sides, clenched in fists. She makes a repetitive motion with them, popping each of her fingers with her thumb. Her nails look as if they’ve been bitten to stubs. It's only now that James notices how tired she looks. And he can't find it within him to blame her.

“Maria Kei-” Mal says. “You used to teach in Hokkaido, right? I did my first year of teaching up there! I’m Park—Mallory. Though I would have been going by Turner when I was still working there.”

Something akin to a smile crosses Maria’s face. “I thought you looked familiar,” she says, “small world, huh? You’re an English teacher, right?”

Mallory nods. Despite her words, a certain tension hangs in the air. It's as if a weight has settled onto James’ shoulders. With his middle finger, he flicks the ash from his cigarette away. It rests on the ground for a moment, before fading out.

“We were camped out at an emergency clinic when sorcerers found us,” Maria says, “that was a few days ago. I haven't seen them since, so I can only hope they lost interest.”

If only everyone were so lucky, James thinks.

“I know the clinic she’s referring to,” Mal says. “We passed it on the way here. We’ll loop around this block. It's a longer way around, but it’ll keep us out of other player’s territory.”

Her finger traces across the map in a U shape. She’s marked the apartment complex with a large X. There’s little notes made on the sides of the map in her neat block lettering.

Traveling the main street would only take them about ten minutes on foot. This route will be nearly twenty.

The first half of the walk is uneventful. In the second half, there's one close call with a cursed spirit, which they narrowly avoid, ducking into a building to hide from it. It's cooled down considerably now. James only notices as he steps out into the street.

The words URGENT CARE are printed above the door in bold font. It looks as if someone has been here recently. The front door has been barricaded. Several of the windows have been smashed. Glass litters the sidewalk, as if they were broken from the inside out.

“You agreed to help her fast,” James says. He keeps his voice low, although he doubts anyone is around to hear them. Best to be cautious.

“If you were in her place, would you do anything different?” She asks, and when James opens his mouth to speak, she interrupts him, “wait, that's a bad comparison. I guess I just understand where she’s coming from. I can't say I’d be acting all that differently if I were in her situation,

“I do have a question for you, though.” She says. James scowls at her thinly veiled insult. “You entered this barrier willingly. Why?”

They only stop for a moment. The scent of residuals is heavy in the air. It's most potent towards the center of the street. There was a fight here. Propping himself up on the window’s ledge, James is able to climb through.

The first thing James notices is the smell of antiseptic. Papers litter the floor. A plant below the window has been knocked over, spreading dirt across the tiles. The power is on. Fluorescent lights hum overhead.

“Me and a handful of other players are looking to free a man named Satoru Gojo.” He says.

“Gojo?” Mal hums. “I haven't seen that name on the list of players.”

“That's because he’s not a player,” James says. “It's a… long story.”

Mallory shrugs in a way that seems to say we have time.

She disappears from his peripherals. James listens to her footsteps as they fade into the adjacent room. His gaze falls to the window, fixing upon the blinking OPEN sign in the window of a shop across the street. Something moves behind the blinds. From this far away, it's impossible to tell what it is, but it's too small to be a human. Perhaps it's a cat, or some other animal scavenging for food.

“So there's more of you in this barrier?” Mallory calls out.

“In this game, yeah,” he says. “But not this barrier.”

Not that he knows of, at least.

She's silent for a moment. He hears her mumble something indiscernible from this side of the room. “This friend of yours- you mentioned freeing him? Is he in jail or something?”

‘Friend’ really isn't the right word for him, James thinks.

“Kind of.” He answers.

For a moment, Mallory is silent, as if she expects him to continue speaking.

“How much do you know about jujutsu society?” James asks.

“Absolutely nothing.” She says.

James leans back on his heels. He wipes his palms off on the front of his pants.

“Well, for starters, there’s a few people you should know about: Satoru Gojo, and Kenjaku. Satoru Gojo is the strongest sorcerer alive.” James says. “He has both the Six Eyes and Infinity, effectively making him a god in a man’s body,

“Kenjaku—you said he went by Kamo to you—has trapped him in something called a prison realm. This is a relic that allows its user to trap whichever poor bastard they choose. And as long as they’re in there, time doesn't pass, they’ll never age, and unless they’re freed by someone, the only way out is to commit suicide,

“Now, with Gojo gone, Kenny has effectively leveled the playing field,

“Kenjaku himself is another story. Due to his cursed technique—which allows him to switch bodies by replacing a person's brain—he's taken over the body of a man named Suguru Geto. He’s the guy who’s trapped Gojo, and we’re trying to take him out. He’s the man responsible for this game.”

“So he's the game master?”

“Not exactly,” James says, grimacing. “As a pretense for starting this game, he wasn't allowed to be the game master. Killing him isn't going to stop the game. This whole thing is a ritual in preparation for his mergence with Tengen—another sorcerer. I don't really know all that much about him, aside from the face he's linked to the Star Plasma Vessel—don't ask—and that he's basically immortal. I've only ever met the guy once.”

Mallory blinks.

“Our sole way of defeating Kenjaku is with Suguru Geto’s help.” He says. “So in turn, we need Gojo too.”

“Why?”

“They’re soulmates, haven't you heard?” He says. “Back in Shibuya, I briefly witnessed Geto retake his body—granted, it was only for a moment. But the remnants of his soul are tied to his body. So the possibility is there. To wake him up—for lack of a better term—he needs to be in the presence of Gojo,

“These other sorcerers I'm with—they’re looking for another player. She goes by Angel, but that's not her real name, so we don't know who she is on the list of players. Supposedly we’ll know who she is when we see her.”

“Is she in this barrier?” Mal asks.

James shakes his head. Not that Mallory can see him. He mumbles a “no”, but is not certain she’s heard him. From the other room, James hears some shuffling and a gasp, followed by a “found it!”

His attention is caught by the sudden sensation of another soul—about a block away. A sorcerer. James’ head whips to the left so fast his vision spins. He makes his way towards the door, hand just barely touching the handle when Mallory enters the room.

“Where the hell are you going?” She hisses.

“We're going to attack Aikawa.”

“Why?” Her tone sounds more like a parent scolding a child than it does genuine concern.

“We need his points.” James says. “What if he knows where the exits are?”

"I really doubt it." She says.

"Part of our plan involves putting rules into place in this game," James says. "And to do that, we need points. I figure we’ll be able to convince some players to give us theirs, while others we won't have much of a choice on,

“Aikawa will be our first target. We’ll wait until a new player enters the barrier, then catch him when he’s distracted. If he doesn't agree to hand over his points, then we’ll kill him. With the two of us, he shouldn't be a problem,

“These other sorcerers I’m with—we have a plan to end this game. It involves putting several rules into place: one to allow the exchange of points between players, one to allow travel between barriers, and one to establish contact with one another. Once this game is dealt with, freeing Gojo will be much easier.”

And then…? Pray Gojo knows what to do. That's what everyone else seems to be doing.

Above them, the sky appears to open up, before spitting out a person. This new player is a man. But that's all James can see before he disappears behind some buildings.

James stops for a moment, as if to consider his plan, before breaking out into a sprint.

As he rounds the block, he hears two distinct voices. The man he assumes to be Aikawa stands over this new player, who’s fallen to his knees, shielding his face with his arms. Aikawa himself isn't the most physically imposing in stature. He's a few inches taller than James, but the other man has at least twenty pounds on him. His cursed energy output isn't particularly strong, but it can't be considered weak either. Based on that alone, James assumes he’s around the strength of a grade two sorcerer.

James grabs onto the other player's shirt, and the two hit the ground. Hard. James silently thanks his mother for forcing him to do little league football. The back of Aikawa’s head bounces off the pavement, and he has a dazed look in his eyes. The palms of James’ hands skid across the concrete, leaving them raw and bloody. Straddling his torso, knees pressed firmly into his shoulders, James has him pinned. James let's cursed energy to pool in his hands, gathering in strength. This cursed energy is different in nature—it's more agitated. Instead of being inherently negative, it's positive.

Aikawa’s eyes snap shut. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He expects James to kill him.

And he very well could.

He can feel the man's soul under his hands. It's an odd, silky feeling. Like woodsmoke. Or like some priceless fabric. Something so thin that you could drape it across itself over and over and it’d still be sheer. It feels like neither the soul of a sorcerer, or the soul of a human.

James loops the string of fate around his fingers, and finds that it isn't attached to anything on the other end.

Instead, James sits back on his heels.

“What the hell man?!” Aikawa asks, cracking an eye open.

“The exits! For civilians! Where are they?” Says James.

He blinks.

“I'm trying to find the two exits civilians are allowed to leave through,” he says. “Do you know where they are, or not?”

“You’re just going to kill me anyway,” says Aikawa.

Tempting. But that's not the plan. “Transfer your points to me and I’ll let you live,” James says.

“I think I’d rather you just kill me,” he says, letting his head fall back to the pavement.

He groans as James leans more of his weight on him. This… isn't how this whole thing was supposed to go.

Mallory rounds the corner of the building hardly a moment later, stopping dead in her tracks with an audible “oh…”. She backs away slightly, as if she’s walked in on something she shouldn't have.

“So,” James says, resting his head on his hand. “This is uh… not going like I planned.”

Mallory nods, as if to say I see that. From his pocket, he produces a lighter, and his pack of cigarettes.

“Can I bum one of those?” Aikawa asks.

“Sure,” James says, and without a beat, holds one right up to Aikawa’s lips. He takes it, holding it between his teeth as James lights it. The strangeness of this situation only strikes him once it's over.

“The train station.” Aikawa says. He makes an attempt to sit up, but can't with James’ body pressing against his chest. “I heard something about the train station.”

“The subway?” Mal asks.

He nods. “I haven't been around that way myself, so I don't know how true this is. But I’ve heard about it enough times for there not to be some truth to it.”

The subway is on the other side of this colony, if James is going by Mal's map. And if more players know about this exit, then it's likely going to be guarded. Much like the players that hang around the barriers entrance, others may wait by the exits for unsuspecting civilians to wander by.

His eyes fall to the other player. Aikawa's hands are raised slightly, but not reaching for a weapon. And as long as James can muster up cursed energy, his technique is effectively neutralized. As long as they're touching, that is.

“Why help us now?” James asks.

“Consider it thanks,” he says, “for the smoke. Now will you get off my ass?”

James stands. Aikawa lets out a groan as he sits up. There's a considerable amount of dirt on his back, which he quickly brushes off.

“Why do you care so much about the exit anyway? It's not like you can leave through them… ” Aikawa pauses for a moment, and seems to process what he's said. "You found survivors."

And though James doesn't sense any intent to attack, he knows that Aikawa has an ulterior motive. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, as if he’s visibly weighing his options. Lying is always an option. Maybe it's not the best, but it's there.

"How many are there?" Aikawa asks.

"A few. They're armed." James says.

It's not necessarily a lie, so much as it's an exaggeration of the truth. What’s this guy want with a teacher, and a bunch of kids anyway?

"So… what?" He asks. "You gonna play hero? Help them escape? Or do you plan to lead them there to cull them?"

His phrasing makes James’ stomach churn. Cull. Like they're livestock.

"Altogether they're not going to be worth that many points," James says. "It's not worth it if you ask me. But they'll be a great lure for other players.” Another lie.

"So you're using them as bait? Smart."

"What else do you know about this barrier?" Asks James. "What players have you run into?"

"Not many," he says, "aside from the obvious,

"There's a large group with a camp in the center of this colony. Supposedly they're pretty tough. They've got numbers. Then you have the outliers—people like us—the ones who keep to themselves. At most they're in groups of one or two, and were strong enough to survive the initial two weeks. Then there’s the demons. But they don't really come out until after dark."

"Demons?" Mal asks.

"Cursed spirits." Answers James. Has she really not encountered any? They're all over Tokyo…

Mallory nods, like she understands, but the look in her eyes doesn't change.

“You’ve seen them?” Aikawa asks.

“A few times.” He says, before switching the subject to something else. “Do new players come in through the barrier often?”

“It was pretty steady the first week.” Aikawa says. “It's slowed down considerably now. Hardly one comes in a day anymore.”

Those who are going to declare their participation in the game likely would have by now. There may be some stragglers, but the amount of players will only go down from here. The smaller that number grows, the stronger the general population will get.

That leaves them at a standstill. Not much is going to happen in this barrier until someone comes along and tampers with the fine balance of things.

Mallory glances from James, to Aikawa, then back to James, as if to ask: “are you really not going to kill him?”

"Well, we should get off the street before dark, then," Mal finally says.

Aikawa nods. And James can't find it in himself to protest.

“I suppose if you’re ever back this way, just yell, and I’ll try not to kill you,” Aikawa says, flashing a wolfish grin.

…

The temperature has dropped nearly ten degrees. James’ breath fogs in the air. Though the sidewalk out in front of the apartment complex is empty, lights are visible inside. They’re dim, as if someone is making an attempt to conceal them.

Maria exits first, greeting them with a nod. Then a man follows shortly behind her. "You're back!" She says.

"You sound surprised." Mal says.

"I guess I am," Maria says, "I was expecting you to have run off. Were you able to find it?"

Mal tosses the inhaler to her. She catches it, turning it over in her hands, examining it. "We found a lead on one of the exits too," she says, "supposedly civilians are able to leave through the train station."

"Is it guarded?" Maria asks.

James and Mallory both shrug. Maria sighs, tiredly, and nods.

"Well, there's no use wandering around at night," says Maria, motioning for them to join her, "you should get inside."

There's a blast of warm air as James steps into the lobby. He smells something cooking—like meat. Though he doesn't have much of an appetite, he figures he should eat soon.

During the time they were gone, the elevator has been powered back on. James steps into it, pressing the button for the highest floor. There's a ding as it stops, opening to a darkened hallway. Guided by the light of his phone, he finds the door labeled ROOF ACCESS, relieved to find it unlocked.

From the rooftop, nearly the entire colony is visible. Fires burn to the left, towards the edge of the barrier. They pour black smoke all along the skyline. And if James stops, and tries to focus on it, he smells burning plastic. To the right, lights glint faintly. Fog is just beginning to roll in. It lingers to the west—what he assumes to be the west. Hard to tell when you can’t see the sun. It must be coming in from the ocean.

Mal wasn't wrong about the view.

Though he doesn't hear the roof door open, he feels the presence of another person behind him. Mallory. Under one arm, she cradles two bowls. In her free hand, she clutches two sets of chopsticks.

"Thought you'd be up here. Take," orders Mallory, handing him a bowl. It looks to be some sort of beef and rice mixture. Despite being hungry, James only picks at his meal.

Mallory joins him on the roof, sitting beside them. Their legs nearly touch. And he feels much as if he's back in the occult club's room, hovering over that ouija board. He can still smell the grease from the McDonald’s bag, and the ungodly amount of Axe that Louis would use. Such a feeling should be nostalgic, but it only makes the man nauseous.

"Hey Mal," James says, pointing over the railing. "Check that out."

"Lights?" She says. "What idiots…"

"You know what this means," he says, sighing. "more players…" more people to kill. More points.

From his pocket, James fishes out his pack of smokes. His lighter is getting low on fluid, he finds, making a mental note to grab a new one.

“Can I bum one of those?” Mal asks.

“I didn't know you smoked.” He says, nodding.

“I figure it's not too late to start.” She says. Though there's no tone of sarcasm to her voice, James figures that that's her intention.

After handing her one, he finds he has one left. She fumbles with the lighter for a moment, before bringing the flame to the end of her cigarette. The acrid smell of smoke fills the air. The first drag sends her into a coughing fit.

“That's… that's horrible,” she says, passing the still burning cigarette to him, “how do you stand it?”

“You get used to it,” James says.

He brings the cigarette to his lips, holding it there, but never taking a drag. Mallory steps over to the railing, leaning against it. Below them, hardly more than ten feet, are nets, winging out about four feet from the sides of the building. The wind has picked up, and it rattles them loudly. James can't help but think that they’ll do little to stop a person from jumping.

Perhaps it was Louis who cursed him in the end.

“We are quite different,” Mallory says. “You and I. I have come here to scope things out, and you have come here to gaze upon the end of it all.”

#jjk x reader #choso x reader #kinda lol #its a james chapter this time but the next one will be back to the reader and choso #choso kamo x reader #choso #choso kamo #jjk #blood ties #if this reads like i was drunk while i was editing it i was so sorry lol #and egrigious errors will hopefully be fixed by tomorrow

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zeeboomblebee · 2 years

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A Little About Me: Welcome to My Blog!

Guess I’m finally getting around to this. Anyway, hi, I go by Zee here. I use she/her pronouns but am perfectly happy with they/them as well. I’m 20 and identify as aroace. Irl wise, I’m currently attending college as a Wildlife, Fish, and Conservation Biology major (and Avian Science minor) with dreams to someday become an ornithologist. I love birds.

(The rest is under the cut bc it got a bit long.)

I love to read fics, write, draw, listen to/play music, binge Netflix, and birdwatch. Most of the content I create is fan work, especially for Ninjago. I do post some of my artworks on this (and my other) blog, but I am pretty shy, self-conscious, and a perfectionist, so I don't post my own works very often. And despite having, probably at this point, a hundred thousand words worth of fics from my various fandoms tucked away in google docs, I have never posted a single written work. I’m very fond of writing, and am proud of some of my works, but I have yet to find the courage to post them anywhere. A lot of them are incomplete, and I’m scared of posting something that I cannot guarantee I will finish. I also have a very beloved Ninjago OC (that I have tons of fics and art pieces of), but have rarely shown her to anyone. Maybe someday I’ll find the confidence to share my unposted stuff. But for now, I’m perfectly content sitting on the sidelines and admiring everyone else’s beautiful contributions to my fandoms.

Fandom wise, I’m a bit all over the place. I would say my (current) top fandoms are Ninjago, Marvel MCU, Kirby, Pokémon, Avatar (TLA and TLOK), Steven Universe, and The Owl House. I’m very fond of found family dynamics, and, heh, am not really the biggest shipper, but I do have some OTPs I would die for. I’m always down to be introduced to more deep, cartoonish shows (especially with some good ole LGBTQIA+ rep), so if you have any suggestions, I’d be more than happy to hear them!

Lastly, this is honestly my most active social media site where I actually post (or at least reblog slkdskg) stuff. I’m really not that active on social media sites despite frequenting them often to hunt for fan works. Quite frankly, this blog is organized horribly (mishmash of fandoms, poor tagging, etc), and I have a hard time finding my own stuff on here half the time. I hope to someday scrape up the motivation to renovate this little place, but who knows when that will happen.

If you’re still here, thanks so much for making it! I really love interacting with my fellow fans but can be painfully shy at times and can find it difficult to make the first move when I see someone I want to talk to. Don’t be afraid to reach out anytime with anything from a hello to a random funny bird video with zero context. I can’t promise I’ll always be active, but I’m bound to return from a sudden impromptu hiatus at some point. Meanwhile, I hope to get to know everyone! :D

#personal #blog introduction

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hellowhisperingstars · 3 months

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Hey guys!

Just wanted to give a little update. I have hit one hell of a writing slump and even though I am still working on a few things here and there I haven't really been focusing on them much.

My fiancé and I are also starting to talk about planning our wedding so that's something I will also be focusing on more.

So I guess I have taken a bit of an impromptu hiatus. But I am still kinda here lurking in the dark like a weirdo.

Please enjoy all of my current works until I get back!

Also... I have found a new hobby building Lego sets... Pray for my wallet.

#gage rambles #gage update #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #st s4

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radio-duga · 7 months

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My stylus broke and I cannot afford another so. I guess... impromptu hiatus

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ofmanymasks · 10 months

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((Hello!!

So, I've been gone for quite a bit and i apologize about the impromptu hiatus. I've been trying to get on a more consistent schedule with sleep and work, so i really hadn't had time to be on here as much as I'd like. I've been super drained and burned out, so writing as been... difficult, to say the least.

Guess who's dumb self got sucked in the Welcome Home rabbit hole? It i. My hyperfixation-prone ass. Frick-- OwO' Y'all have no idea how much brain rot of Wally I've had, it's insane.

Otherwise, I'm gonna try and make myself more of a presence on here, but i hold no guarantees. Though I'm debating on trying with a new RP blog for a single character (leaning towards canon over OC) or a personal blog.

Or, heck! Why not both?

We'll see!

Also, i have recently discovered Character.AI and it is doing very much doing wonders with my maladaptive daydreaming self. 10/10 would recommend.))

#;ooc #((Update? Update.))

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highway-to-helltalia · 3 years

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I noticed that this blog recently got to 100 followers!!!

This is absolutely amazing, thanks so much everyone! I'm thrilled that there are over 100 people who want to see my content!!

I'd love to do something to celebrate this, but I have no idea what. In the meantime, if anyone wants to send asks with maybe drabble requests or headcanons, anything really, I'd love that!!

#thank you all so so much #genuinely never thought id get to this point #also im back from my impromptu hiatus i guess #yay

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nerdie-faerie · 4 years

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Hey, how are you?

Tumblr has updated again what the hell

I'm okay thanks for asking sweetie, currently refusing to sleep cus I'm so close to finishing this chapter

And the usual

Also happy new year I guess, and merry Christmas cus I missed that one too

Thanks for the ask sweetpea

#Not rp #OOC #OOC asks #Nonnie #Ace writes sometimes #i ended up taking an impromptu hiatus an then clicked on tumblr when my phone freaked out so hi i guess

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baastardart · 5 years

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#sorry for the impromptu hiatus everybody!#i've been feeling a little under the weather lately but i'm back now! so #here have a thing i guess

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theabandoned · 5 years

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well, it's been a long time coming, but i have finally updated my about. it ain't much, but it's something i guess.

#ive been taking impromptu hiatus' ever since ive started this blog and i apologize #i honestly just haven't found the time or the motivation #but i am really really trying to be more active i promise you #so ive started gradually adding to my about. baby steps i guess.

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dvsza · 6 years

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okay so why i havent been on here is bc google forgot all my people on the browser and i had no idea what the email i used for this acc was, so i was deadass suffering and probably gonna have to remake again but i came down to my dad’s and i was still logged in on his pc sooo, here i am lmao

#also the impromptu hiatus gave me hella claire muse again lmao so #but ye !!!#now i write down all my emails on a lil document #bc i use so many???#and reuse them for new accs #the one i use on this one was actually for an old multi #from like 3 years ago lmao #i never would've guessed it on my own #ghdfjkghfdkg #so yeah im here #and a dumbass #* ・゚ ✩ ooc. ↷ shut the fuck up chaz.

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bump1nthen1ght · 2 years

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Out of the Woods (Werewolf x Reader) Part 2

Pairing:Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Rural Fantasy, Slow Burn, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, Small mention of animal (specifically coyote) death, mentions of guns

Word Count: 6082 words

Summary: You begin the slow journey of sheltering a werewolf. Whether that’s a smart idea, you’re still unsure. But the two of you are stuck in this together, like it or not.

A/N: So……part two is here!!! (What do you mean its been 7 months since I’ve updated shhhhh)

But seriously, thank you for all the support over my impromptu hiatus. I was hit with pretty severe writers block on top of general life stress. I found myself disliking everything I wrote and hating the anxiety I had when I didn't. But the break has actually helped ALOT. I’m so happy with this piece and I think y’all will like it, I know you have been waiting a while! Enjoy!

(Side note, I'm thinking of writing some little vignettes about this relationship in the future. Let me know if y'all would be interested!)

Taglist: @ileavechaosinmywake @wannabewolf

@sorryimnotcreativeatall

As Heath scarfs down a whole rotisserie chicken by himself, you wonder how long your groceries are going to last.

He eats with his hands, like a drunk person desperate for a salty snack in the middle of the night. You can see that even in his human form his canines are elongated and extra sharp. They tear through the meat like a hot knife through butter. When he finds a particular piece is too hard to get with his mouth, he flicks out his claws and scrapes it out.

He’s still handsome as hell, though.

His long hair falls elegantly over his shoulder, drawing attention to his sharp clavicle and the definition of his shoulder muscles. It’s shiny and thick, surprisingly well-kept, as if he hadn’t been living in the wilderness for the last few months.

“Here,” You take the scrunchie off your wrist, sliding it across the table, “Take this.” Heath pauses his little massacre to quickly tie his hair up, just out of the way enough so he can eat unabated.

So he does know what hair-ties are.

You add that to the “What The Werewolf knows” list in your mind; His unabashedness about nudity and lack of social graces would indicate he hasn’t lived in civilization for a while, but his general know-how of kitchen appliances and a first aid kit seem to say otherwise.

“So…” You mutter, tapping your fingers on the table. Heath doesn’t even look up from his chicken. “Do you know why the hunters are after you?”

Heath shrugs, cracking a chicken bone and sucking out the marrow. “Sort of,” He says, chicken rib still in mouth, “Been told a lot about this place. This town’s got more people who know about the supernatural than usual and they have a long line of Hunters. It’s kind of known as a ‘Do Not Enter’ zone for us werewolves.” Once he’s finished with the bone, he tosses it to the side of his plate, some grease flying off and dotting your place mats. You nod, still trying to absorb the new status-quo yesterday brought.

“And you came here for?”

Heath finally stops eating, looking up at you with a big smirk. His shining canines have bits of chicken still stuck in between them, but it doesn’t make the fangs look any less menacing.

“I’m a risk taker. Ain’t no pack to hold me back, just living life out in the woods, I need to get my kicks somewhere. Plus,” He takes his last bite of chicken, wiping the excess carnage off his chin, and flexes his biceps, “I’m not a push-over.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee, not willing to debate with his showboating. It was probably a coping mechanism anyway, given he was bleeding out on your porch less than a day ago.

“Damn, that was delicious. Got any more?”

You almost choke on your tea, eye the full carcass on his plate, and then look at him.

He’s a big guy, guess that makes sense.

“There’s some chips in the pantry. But we’ll have to wait on chicken.” Heath's face lights up at the talk of snacks, pushing himself up and jogging to the pantry. If he was a wolf, his tail would probably be wagging.

Heath has to lean down to comfortably reach stuff in your cabinets and you jerk your eyes away, forcing yourself to not look at his (very, very nice) butt. You wipe tea off your chin. “I have some chicken pot pies for tomorrow, but it’s best to hold off for now. I probably shouldn’t head back into town until we know those guys won’t come back and kill you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Heath waves, letting out a little ‘yes!’ when he finally finds the chips. “I’ll probably leave tomorrow.”

Your mug bangs against the kitchen table as you whip around to him. “What?”

Heath shrugs, mouth semi-full of chips. “I’ll be right as rain by then. Might as well get a head start.”

“But, But, the guys-”

Heath squints, his face going cold. “I’ll outrun them.”

“You’re going to outrun three F-150’s on a bunch of back roads in their home turf? Not to mention Robert’s dirt bikes; Those guys use them all the time to hunt rabbits.” Heath rolls his eyes and you clench your teeth. You really hate it when he does that. “Just...stay here a couple days. The excitement will go down and I can tell them you took off in the middle of the night. Make the trip out of here as easy as possible.”

Heath sets down the bag of chips. “You said it yourself, you don’t have enough food-”

“I didn’t say that. I said-”

“Why do you care so much anyway?” Heath points an accusatory finger at you, “I’m not some charity case you have to worry about. Sorry you feel like you have to be the hero here, but you don’t; I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.”

The hardwood squeals as you leap out of your seat, your chair roughly pushed against the table as you point back at Heath. “I care because I like my chickens, hate those damn coyotes, and don’t want to be stuck burying your dead ass when it winds up on my property, got it?” You walk towards him, forcing Heath backwards into the counter. “Now listen,” you stick a finger into his chest, “I don’t appreciate you talking to me that way. And if you’re going to stay here, I’d like us to be on good terms. God knows it would be a lot easier for me to throw you out right now, but I won’t. Because despite that snark of yours, I’m a good person, no hero-worship needed.”

The air is thick, hot as you two stand inches from each other, chest to chest. Heath looks down, his face furrowed, before he looks to the side.

“...Fine.” Heath mutters.

You let yourself breathe. A part of you wonders if God amped up your boldness today; ____ from last week probably wouldn’t have confronted several men with guns and a werewolf on the same day. You brush back your hair and sigh, moving away from Heath to clean up his dishes.

“You should probably go to bed, you’ve had a long day.”

Heath doesn’t say anything, walking past you to the bedrooms. You tell yourself to not look back at him.

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

The next day, you barely see Heath at all; He keeps to his room, only peeking his head out for a quick breakfast, lunch, and an afternoon shower. An afternoon shower that completely clogs your drain with thick, white fur.

You let him have his space, the spat the two of you had leaving a sour taste in your mouth. But the next morning you wake up to a mess of dishes in your sink, another clogged shower drain, and a whole chicken skeleton on your countertop, and decide it’s now time to set some ground rules.

You knock on his door that night, oven mitts and an apron in hand. Heath opens, wearing the same pair of sweats you had given him, shirtless.

You can feel your face flush as your eyes inadvertently skirt over his defined chest, but force yourself to look into his eyes. It’s just like having a roommate, that’s all, nothing’s there.

“You hungry?”

Heath makes a half-motion to say no, but the loud growl that comes from his stomach says otherwise. He scowls a bit and you hold in laugh as he looks as he grabs his abdomen.

“.....Yes”

You nod, biting your lip and handing him the oven mitts.

“Good, because I need some help.”

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

Heath’s quick to learn how to properly peel and mince after a quick lesson, but he still keeps quiet throughout the whole process. You try to find the words to make small talk, but nothing seems to come to mind. Asking about werewolf stuff still feels invasive and you doubt the go-to’s of “Where’d you go to high school?” and “What do you do for work?” will help you in breaking the tension.

Still, Heath doesn’t seem angry, or even resentful. Just...quiet. You notice that he’s begun unconsciously bobbing his head to the music playing over your speaker; Even shimmying his feet back and forth. You think several times that you could ask what music he likes, but by the time you work up the courage he’s already made himself a plate to quickly devour.

You had gone with something a little heavier tonight, knowing how much he eats, but his portion still seems significantly smaller than last dinners. You hope he doesn’t feel like he has to eat less because of what you said about groceries; You don’t want him to starve.

But he cleans his plate, walking back to his room with a quick ‘Thanks’.

As you wash your dishes, you try to come up with a new plan to make him more comfortable.

Damn, this is going to be difficult.

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

You never love waking up in the middle of the night, especially when you're thirsty. It feels like walking around kicks you out of that sleeping sweet-spot, right on the edge of unconsciousness. Not to mention how creepy your hallways can be in the pitch-black. But the cottony-feeling in your mouth forces you out of your room, stumbling into the kitchen for a cup of water.

You’re still in a little bit of a daze, just opening the cabinet door when you hear a commotion outside that jolts you awake. It starts with quick clicks of nails on your back porch, followed by a sickening snarl and a thump as something hits your outside wall. It devolves into several yelps and growls, making you grab that faithful knife from its block and run outside.

When you open the door, there’s a final snap as you see Heath rip open a coyote's throat, thick blood splattering against your porch, reflecting the moon light.

It’s odd to say you’re relieved by the sight, having feared the absolute worst (Robert, all those men, Heath’s poor body splayed out on the hardwood). Even as Heath digs into the now-carcass, sort of gruesomely, you feel the relief wash over you.

But wait, why was he outside in the first place?

“Uh, you good?”

Heath jolts a bit, jerking away from his meal, his snout painted red. But he visibly relaxes when he notices it’s you. He gives a little nod, then goes back to picking at the remains.

You set down the knife on your porch side table, leaning your head forward to peer into your chicken coop, which lays not two feet away from your porch.

All of your girls are huddled up in the corner, feathers still fluttered, but they seem far more relaxed than you would expect. Their wobbly heads keep peaking over each other to keep an eye on Heath, who has made quick work of the coyote. He swipes his paw over his snout, barely getting any blood off as he wrinkles his nose.

“Thanks so much. I really appreciate this. But, you know…” You gesture toward the half-eaten coyote left on your porch steps. “I think those other ones will get the message, you could probably just go to bed.”

Heath just looks at you, eyes just as unreadable as when he’s human, and walks over to the coop. He plops himself in the grass, laying down his head and tucking his tail.

You’re gonna take that as a ‘no’ to your sleeping inside offer.

You sigh, about to make the long walk back to your bed when you notice a little movement from the bundle of chickens.

Georgette, your bravest girl, begins to strut away from the safety huddle. The other ladies cluck as she tentatively trots over to Heath, head bobbing as she gets closer and closer to the chicken wire. With a poke, the tip of her beak sticks in between the holes, head twitching as she eyes up Heath. One of Heath’s ear twitches, but he keeps his eyes closed, sighing as he preps for a long nap.

Georgette, satisfied with her expedition, shuffles her wings and plops next to the wire, settling downfor her own sleep. Georgette likes her chances, what with her guard dog being so close.

The rest of hens, still moving as a big flock, slowly waddle over to her and Heath. They eventually settle down, eyes closing as they press up against the wire.

The sight makes your heart nearly explode with cuteness and you regret not grabbing your phone when you hopped out of bed.

Speaking of which, a winter breeze reminds you of how underdressed you are, so you move back to the warm inside. Not before pulling up your recliner, a quilt, and a cup of water up to the back door, keeping it cracked just a bit.

You just mean to watch them for a bit, enjoy the night air and the peace. But you find yourself dozing off rather quickly, head tucked into your quilt, falling into an easy sleep.

Heath pops one eye open, watching your snoring figure curl up into the recliner.

His tail wags, just a little bit.

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

The next morning, you wake up with a sore neck and a cup of hot tea by your side, the sound of some dishes in the kitchen. Heath either moved to the bed last night or woke up very early, your chickens back in their hutches.

Breakfast is quiet as usual, same as the rest of the day, but when night comes Heath is back out on your porch and you're in your chair. You had the sense to bring your Switch with you this time; Not wanting to bother Heath with chit chat but also not willing to risk another crick in your neck from sleeping in your recliner.

You try to keep the volume down, not letting out your normal amount of expletives as the boss kills you for a second time. Heath’s ears are just too good however, and he turns his head when he hears you mutter a ‘fuck’.

You shrug, mouthing a ‘sorry’, and Heath just rolls his eyes. He stands up, shaking out his limbs before he nudges open the back door with his muzzle. His wolf form stands about as tall as the side of your recliner, his chin resting on the arm as he looks at the console.

“Not much going on today, huh?”

He huffs, giving the closest approximation to a ‘yeah’ as he sits down, head still resting on the arm chair. You turn back toward your Switch.

“Have you ever played this game before?”

Another huff, a ‘no’, you’re getting pretty good at reading his signals.

“It’s not that hard, I just suck ass at video games.” A cutscene starts as your character enters the battleground. You turn up the volume, the deep voice of your enemy congratulating you on making it this far. You laugh, “Bet you wouldn’t say that if you knew this was my third time, bud.”

The battle starts, background music and the clicking of buttons filling the silence. You try to keep your focus on the fight, you really didn’t need any handicaps for this boss, but you can’t help glancing over at Heath every once in a while. While you had expected him to watch, find something to pass the time, you didn’t expect his gaze to be so…entranced. His pupils were dilated and his ears flicked back and forth with the music. The boss lands a pretty gnarly blow on you and Heath sucks in a breath.

You’ve lost almost half your health and are out of healing potions. You might’ve given up at this point, ride out the rest of the battle half-heartedly and hope for a better next-time. But your audience spurs you onward, finger muscles beginning to ache as you furiously press the controller.

There's a collective sigh as the dramatic ‘GAME OVER’ flashes across the screen, then tension in your neck loosening as you set down the switch. You stretch out your fingers, knuckles red from the stress and the cold breeze blowing in from outside. A wet nose pushes against your wrist and you look down at Heath.

He’s clearly trying to mitigate his excitement, but his wagging tail tells all; He’s invested in this fight now too, and he wants you to give it another go. You smile, brushing a hand over his muzzle. Oddly, he doesn’t push you away.

“Do you want a shot?” Heath’s brow furrows, shooting a quick look towards the door. “Nothing’s come all night, I think we can spare boss battle.” Heath huffs, almost a laugh, before taking his head off the arm chair. He shakes his shoulders, body and fur already begging to ripple with the shift. Your face darkens as a blush creeps up. “Uh, you might need some clothes there, bud.”

Heath rolls his eyes but trots off to his room anyway, tail leisurely swinging behind him.

He comes out in a t-shirt too small and sweats too big and you look away before you can check him out; Stupid stubborn werewolf, being stupidly handsome.

You hand Heath the Switch and sit on the arm of the recliner, throwing the blanket over you both as he settles into the chair. The position you're in cranes your neck and spine in an awkward way, but it’s the only way you can see the screen without snuggling with Heath.

You give Heath a short run down in controls, pointing out the save area he can practice a bit in. Heath just gives you a playful smirk.

“No offense, but I think I’ve seen you lose enough times to figure out my strategy.” You respond with a little punch in the shoulder, which doesn’t move him an inch.

“Alright, hot shot. Do your worst.”

The boss music plays as the character walks in, probably wondering why they’re trying this for the fourth time, and the battle begins.

To his credit Heath is already doing way better than you. His long fingers allow for quicker reaction time and he already understands a lot of the bosses' attacks. You want to be annoyed by it, but you're too focused on the fight to even care.

“Fuck, watch out for the sentries!” You whisper-yell, Heath way ahead as his character rolls out of the way. Both of your heads crane forward when the battle moves into the second phase; It’s uncharted territory and who knows what will come next.

“How does this jackass-” Click “-have so many goddamn-”Click Click Click “-minions! God, fucking-” An unusually devoted lackey stabs Heath in the back, another attack from the boss depleting the rest of the health. “-shit!” Heath and you fall back into the chair, another “GAME OVER” flashing on the screen. Heath growls a bit, hearing the boss bid a snide remark before he respawns outside the battle.

“Oh my god, you were so close.”

“Seriously! Next time, I’m going for those minions fucking throats. No mercy.”

You chuckle, head lolling to the side and onto Heath’s shoulder. The adrenaline rush is slowly fading, your eyes feeling heavy, and you unconsciously snuggle yourself closer to his side. Heath’s body radiates heat, like a warm quilt or a space heater.

Heath nearly flinches as your hip pushes into his rib cage, the smell of your freshly-washed hair floating across his senses.

Maybe it’s the fact it’s getting late, or that he’s too exhausted from the abrupt ride of the past few days, but Heath finds he doesn’t mind it that much. It’s nice, it’s relaxing, it’s….comfortable.

The next battle is just as intense, you giving commentary to Heath’s frustrated playing. But as it goes on, you sink deeper and deeper into the chair and closer to Heath’s side, going from relaxing in the arm to sharing half of the seat. You don’t seem to notice or care too much, but Heath is aware of every moment.

It’s hard to focus on the boss with your side pressed up against him, soft and so careful. It might be the softest touch Heath has ever felt in his life, his mind overloading with how to deal with it.

He loses, swearing as he sets down the console.

“Jeez, how can you even-”

Heath turns to look at you, shocked by your head resting against his shoulder, even closer than he realized. You seem to have just slid into sleep, your breathing slow and even as your head lulls downward. Heath instinctively lags it back against his body, his heart stuttering when you snuggle deeper into him.

You’ve had a long two days as well. He’ll let you sleep.

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

The next morning you wake up, tucked into your bed. You don’t remember falling asleep, nor putting a cup of water on your nightstand.

All you remember is warmth, a familiar smell of pine and fur, and the feeling of someone rubbing your back.

The blush comes before you can stop it.

Oh god, I am so fucked.

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

At breakfast, Heath cracks the eggs, toasts the bread and cleans the pans. You toss everything together and make a semblance of a meal. It’s enjoyed in a peaceful quiet, watching the rising sun before you start your chores.

When you finish for the day, you see a tidy living room and three steaks set out to defrost. Heath sits on the couch, trying once more to beat the boss.

You give him a thanks, he says “Don’t mention it.”

The two of you sit out on the porch at night, kitchen cleaned and bellies full. Your chairs are close, close enough to share a blanket and your Switch. You show Heath some simpler platformers and a colorful rhythm game, but the two of you eventually make it back to the boss. You both lose, again.

It’s easier to fall into a routine than you’d thought; You have breakfast, get your chores done, eat lunch, then hang out until dinner and guard duty. Sometimes the two of you just sit in the living room, doing your own thing, sometimes you banter and bicker for hours on end about nothing.

You offer to brush his tail one of those afternoons and although he hesitates at first, he gives in rather quickly. You hum a background track from your favorite video game as you do, telling him all about the new method which should help you kill that boss. Heath scoffs.

“Fuck that, I could do it only my own.” He says, recline back onto the pallet you set on the ground. You roll your eyes.

“Last night says otherwise, but okay.”

Heath shifts onto his elbows, glaring at you.

“Are you doubting my abilities?”

“Yes, yes I am.” Heath throws one of the pillows at you. You laugh in shock and throw another one right back at him, hand still firm on his tail. “It isn’t good practice to threaten the one with the weapon, now is it?” You taunt, shaking the brush in your hand. Heath dramatically whimpers and pretends to cower in fear.

“Oh no, whatever shall I do.” You throw another pillow at his face. “Hey!”

Heath offers to collect the eggs and clean the hen pen in the mornings, with the excuse that it’s a way for him to get some sunlight and let out some energy. But you can hear the way he coos and makes nicknames for the ladies. Although the chickens stutter around him at first, soon they're eating out of the palms of his hand.

What a lady killer. You simper, letting yourself fall deeper and deeper.

On the fourth night you guys forego pretending to be on guard duty, throw cozy blankets and a bucket of popcorn on the couch for a movie night. Heath’s movie knowledge is tragically low (for you at least), and you intend to change that, starting with Back to the Future.

“Y’know, they actually cast another guy for Marty Mcfly.” You mutter, busting out what might be your fifth fun fact of the night.“They actually got up to six weeks of filming before they cast him. They even reused some shots and just added some close ups of Michael J. Fox to make it seem like he was in the scene.”

Heath hums, stuffing his face with another handful of popcorn. “Only you would study up before watching a movie, nerd.”

You throw popcorn at Heath's face, which he smugly catches in his mouth. You flip him off as he laughs and uses a pillow to block himself from incoming popcorn attacks.

There’s a barrier that’s been broken, whittled down over shared meals and video games. Heath doesn’t even react when you fall asleep on his shoulder near the end of the movie, your snoring surprisingly cute.

He thinks he can get used to this; You, him, the chickens, and this house. Same scenery day by day, not constantly wondering where his next hunt will come from.

If he was going to survive tomorrow.

The credits roll and Heath doesn’t move. He pulls up the quilts and runs his claws through your hair, admiring your peaceful expression. Heath let’s himself rest, let’s himself feel peace for the first time in a while.

It’s on the fifth day that the hunters come back.

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

You're taking out the trash when you see the pick up truck. The blue, far too big and rusted to all hell pick up truck that Robert loves to the moon and back.

A part of you says to run into the house, another says that would be too suspicious. Another part wonders if Heath is within shooting range from the kitchen window, doing the dishes as your speakers blast.

It's with trembling hands that you close the trash can, walking towards your front porch, trying to act like you aren’t about to have a panic attack. You stop at your front door and keep your hand poised on the knob. Robert steps out of his truck and you try your best to fake a polite smile.

“Morning, Robert. Dreadful weather we’re having, ain’t it?”

Robert gives an agreeable hum, brushing off his jeans before he sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Yup. Farm work’s been a bitch this week.”

His eyes glance around your porch and if you were more naive you’d think he was admiring your yard work. But you know what he’s here for, who he’s looking for.

A cursory glance to his windshield says he came alone, nobody hiding in the back or even stowing away in the truck bed. Unless he has an inside pocket or a side holster, he’s not armed either. You’re not in hot water, yet.

“Bummer. I know when-“

“Is he here?”

A vice grips your heart, hand frozen. You take a breath and lie.

“Who?”

Robert sighs, afraid that you would say something like that.

“You know who, ____”

You’re tempted to lie, lie badly, again. But you're not sure how stalling would help; Heath is in the kitchen and it would be too suspicious for you to shout. It’s time to rip the bandaid off.

“And why does it matter? This is my house, isn’t it?”

Robert rubs his forehead, a cloud of breath chilled by the morning air.

“I know what you think, but you need to listen to me.”

“Who my guests are is none of your fucking business, Robert. Not if they haven’t done anything wrong. So,” You turn the door knob, opening it just the slightest, not giving Robert a view inside the house. “Unless you come back with a warrant, I think we are done here.”

The doorframe shakes a bit when Robert slams his hand on the door, stopping you from going any further. He at least has the decency to look ashamed when you flinch, pulling yourself away from him and pressing your back against the frame. His hand relaxes, but doesn’t leave the surface of the door.

“I know you're a good person, ____.” Robert whispers, eyes darting from you to inside. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but that sweet heart of yours isn't helping right now. You need to hand him over.” Still keeping an eye on your house, pupils shooting back and forth for the dangerous werewolf inside, Robert takes a step back. You let yourself breathe for a second. “We’ll take care of it, it’ll be over soon and you can get him out of your house.”

The cold air brings color to your shaky breath, your shivers from fear and the cold morning slightly rattling the frame behind you. You take another trembling breath, finding it hard to look Robert in the eyes. He’s a good guy, you know he wouldn’t hurt you.

But my god, you are so fucking angry,

“Thanks for the advice, Robert.” You spit out, staring at his dirty steel-toed boots in contempt. “Anything else this poor sweet heart needs to know? Anything else I’m too stupid to see, hmm?“

You can feel heat traveling up your collarbone as you glare at Robert, feeling a tinge of satisfaction when he takes another step back. “____, I didn’t say that-”

“I know damn well what you 're trying to say, Robert. Unlike what you and your boys seem to think, I’m pretty damn good at reading between the lines.” You take a step away from the frame, losing how grounded the wood behind made you feel. Everything feels red, feels hot, and you’re too pissed for caution anymore. “So how about you tell this sweet heart exactly what she’s missing, huh? What else about my life do you know so much more about me anyway?” Robert’s boot heel crunches in the frosty grass of your lawn, looking up at you from the top of your porch steps. “Tell me what that poor man has ever done to you. Tell me that while he’s been watching over my chickens, helping me do the dishes, and enjoying the first warm meal of his life that he’s been moonlighting as a big bad wolf!” Your slippers stomp down the steps as you stick a finger into Robert's chest. “How about you tell me what else my sweet heart has blinded me too, or else I’m gonna start thinking you're telling me all this hullabaloo has been over nothing. That some dumbasses who call themselves heroes worked themselves into a fit over a rumor, and now are trying to drag me into their shit. So you better start telling some really juicy stuff right now.” You don’t know it, but you’ve pushed Robert almost all the way back to his truck, wetting your sweatpant bottoms with dew. “Because unlike you folks, I’m not going to throw anybody out in the cold and shoot them for a piss-poor reason like that.”

There’s a certain quietness to the morning. Even as your chest heaves with anger, breath pouring out in steamy clouds, the lack of birds chirping and your faucet running brings a certain peace to the scene.

Robert’s eyes are wide, his body laying it’s weight against the hood of his truck when you take your finger off his chest. His hands are clenched shut, his knuckles white and his fingertips bright red. Your anger slowly simmers back down your body and back into your chest, Robert exhaling a breath as you give him his space.

“I, I didn’t-” He mutters and you’re ready to hear another excuse. But his hands unfurl, his body slumping against the truck as he refuses to meet your eye.

The pause is long enough that you begin to feel the chill deep into your slippers, goosebumps peppering across your skin when a cold breeze goes by. Robert finally meets your gaze.

“We only saw the wolf, not him, not the man.” He whispers. “You’re the only one who knows what he looks like.” Robert straightens himself up, fidgeting with his coat and tucking his hands back into his pockets. “I can tell the guys that I chased him off, that he-he turned tail and ran when I showed up.” You see Robert's hands fidget in his pocket, pulling out his truck keys. He tosses them a bit in his palm, a fish shaped can opener looking extra bright in the sun.

“Just, come up with something. If you set the groundwork, slowly, then he could be safe, at least in town.”

You nod, taking a step back and gesturing towards Robert’s truck. He wets his lips before walking to his truck door.

You mouth a “Thank you” as Robert drives away. His smile is a tiny, sort of sad; For who, you’re not sure.

The walk back to your house might as well have been a mile; The adrenaline and the screaming has finally left you and all that’s left is exhaustion. Your hands tremble with the thought of what you just did, both from anxiety and delight. Either way, you could really go for some hot chocolate right now.

“Why?”

You’re jolted out of your own thoughts by Heath, standing in the entryway to your kitchen. His hair is tied back into a loose ponytail, his hands still wet from washing the dishes. Your brow furrows.

“What?”

“Why, why did you do that? You could’ve-” Heath’s voice is shaky, but it slowly rises in volume, “You could’ve gotten hurt, ____! He could’ve had a knife, or one of those guns, he could’ve attacked you!” Heath runs a hand through his hair, his dark claws scratching against his scalp. “You should’ve just-You could’ve just-” Heath throws his head in his hands and you can see the hint of his tail behind him. It flicks back and forth, anxious and agitated. “I don’t know what I’d do if he hurt you. What would happen to the chickens, the house? Why didn’t you just let him take me?”

You take a couple steps forward, having heard this all before. You don’t want to fight, you don’t have the energy for it. Heath is too lost in his own mind to notice you approaching. “I can handle him, any of them. It’s my fault they're here. I’m strong enough, I can protect myself. I can protect us. So why did you-”

Your hand brushes against Heath’s cheek, enough that he pauses his rant and focuses on you. You can see the slit of his eyes fading into yellow, the pupil widening into a circle when he looks at you.

With a quick movement you grab the back of his neck, pulling him down to your height and kissing him.

It’s short, a messy mash of a peck that ends as quick as it started. You can feel your cheeks burn as you look into Heath’s eyes; They’re hazy, a bit in shock. Before you can lose your courage you lay your forehead against his, whispering.

“Because I care about you, you idiot.”

There’s a heavy breath, refusing to back down from his gaze, despite the crawling nerves on your shoulders. You’ve already made the first move, finally admitted the bubbling feelings that have lingered in your heart these past few days. You can’t back down now. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

To give Heath credit, his surprise kiss is far more graceful than yours.

It’s longer, his lips molding to yours without even clacking your teeth together. His hand runs up the side of your neck, pulling your bodies even closer together. You separate with a tiny pop, chests still pressed up against one another.

“I do. I do and I, I will-” Heath gathers himself, a frustrated growl leaving his throat as he tries to find the right words. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. But I swear to you, I will pay it forward a thousand times.”

You smile, admiring this mountain of man laying out his heart for you, acting as if he isn’t the toughest person you know.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Heath smiles, that same cocky smile that waltzed into your town and almost got himself killed. Maybe it should be annoying, but it sets your heart ablaze. “But I want to.”

#my writing #werewolf x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #female reader #fluff #slow burn #werewolf

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wwillowtrees · 2 years

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FALLING FOR YA

a reluctant reader begins to fall in love with the hopeless romantic and infamous bastard, camilo madrigal. what happens on their journey? stick around to find out.

camilo madrigal x filipina (your choice if it’s full or half or etc)! fem reader | a multi-chapter story — taking place before and during the events of the movie

translations can be found at the end of each chapter! ^^

sorry for the impromptu hiatus! school was being a bully. i don’t know if i can keep up my weekly updates for now, but ill do my best! enjoy the fic ;)

read all the chapters here !

beta-read!

CH 4 - A PARTY?

The sun was shining bright, the heat slightly stinging your skin. The sky was free from any dark clouds, and a faint rainbow could be seen hovering above the lively village you were currently living in. The donkey’s hooves clack with the cement underneath, and the huge wagon the mammal carried casted a large shadow upon your small figure. You were seated at the front of your porch, the cement you sat on was warm.

You watch the hay-stack that was perfectly nestled inside the cart rock back and forth, all the movement making it sway with the gentle breeze. Your eyes catch a strand of curly brown hair clashing against the yellow-colored hay from the old wooden carriage, bits of patterned yellow fabric peeking through the cracks of the wooden boards that made up the vehicle. You hear the driver murmur something to the passenger, the old man looking down at whoever was inside the cart.

You scoff to yourself, rolling your eyes in disappointment. Who were you fooling, you already knew who it was before the cart even arrived at your doorstep.

You rest your chin on top of your palm, your head bobbing up and down because of your fidgeting knee. Sweat beaded down your skin, your body becoming restless with each minute. The wood creaked as Camilo stood up from the hay stacks he leisurely laid on, giving the driver a thankful nod before hopping off to the other side. You could see him twirl his body around, playfully raising his thumb and extending out his pointer finger towards the man, his hand mimicking a gun.

A small smile graces your face at the gesture.

“Gracias señor!”

“No problem kid.”

He bids him goodbye, waving to the teenage boy with a gracious smile before turning back to face the road ahead. He tightly grabs onto the leash, flicking the leather against the donkey’s fur to signal it to move again. The animal jumps a bit, obviously startled before walking away, the wagon moving along with it.

Clouds of dust swam around the air as the wheels began to roll, the cart revealing the infamous Camilo Madrigal standing behind it all.

“Excited to see me?” He grinned, his face gleaming under the sunlight. You raise a teasing brow, your lips forming a small smirk.

“No, actually.” You joked, watching as he walked up to where you were. It was embarrassing to say aloud, but you and Camilo were starting to meet up more often than you’d like to admit. Ever since the day he walked you home, he was absolutely determined to hang out with you, and properly this time.

So to say you were surprised when Camilo’s energetic voice called out for you, and only you, was an understatement. You weren’t even expecting to hear from the boy ever again, the idea that you two would move on from the whole fiasco and mutually agree to go your separate ways was set in stone.

But life decided to finally use its cards, you guessed.

How hilarious of you to assume such a rational, hypothetical situation apparently, because God had other plans! The second you spotted him smiling at you as he quietly said your name, his raspy voice breathless from all the running he did just to catch up to you, you just knew you were done for. Your brain could barely operate that very afternoon. The poor thing was grasping at straws, trying so hard to come up with reasonable answers as to why he was suddenly talking to you, all while simultaneously trying not to fail on your poor soul. Your heart on the other hand was doing flips, recklessly jumping around its cage, and was absolutely overjoyed at the situation.

As you tried your best to not malfunction on the spot, the oblivious shapeshifter happily asked if he could accompany you with whatever you were doing that day. You remember blinking owlishly at him, your body stiff and sweaty from the summer heat. He looked at you with nervous eyes, twiddling his fingers as he waited for you to respond.

There was an unbearable amount of awkward silence, neither of you daring to say a word. He almost leaves you be, assuming you didn’t want to be bothered by his presence. Almost is the keyword there, as right when Camilo turned his heel, you called out to him, reassuring the other that he could join you in your travels.

And when Camilo’s eyes lit up, it felt like your whole body burned. As if the sun was personally standing next to you, choosing you out of all people to give its comforting light and warmth. Everything else went by with a blur, and you were barely able to remember any of it.

Though one thing is for sure, something between you two sparked. No one would catch you guys alone, the both of you always together when the opportunity arose. Your mom would even often catch you sneaking out to see Camilo sometimes, never forgetting to stop you in your tracks to ask some questions, such as where you were heading, before finally letting you be. It has been nothing but chaos since the past few months you’ve been here.

“What a shame,” Camilo told, shaking his head disappointedly. He fished out a familiar paper bag behind his back, tauntingly shaking it in the air in front of you.

But you wouldn’t change a thing.

“Thought you would appreciate these.”

You grumbled, rolling your eyes before making grabby-hands towards him. You gave your best glare, hopefully getting the message across. He barked out a laugh at your childish actions, his shoulders moving up and down because of that. Camilo simply smiled, handing you the paper bag.

“Knew it.”

“Oh hush.” You uttered, picking out one of the buñuelos that nested at the bottom of the bag. He runs a hand through his hair, looking down on you with a fond look.

“Not even a thank you?” He teased, taking a seat beside you. He spread his legs a tiny bit, resting his elbows on his clothed knees. He hunched his back but kept his gaze on you, tilting his head slightly to get a better view.

“How rude.”

You send him an amused stare but stayed silent for a moment just to finish your snack. Though the second you swallowed what was left of the buñuelo, you opened your mouth to speak once more.

“My sincerest apologies sir Camilo! I give you my deepest thanks then.” You mocked, batting your eyelashes dramatically. You two laughed at that, unable to take anything seriously. It was a light-hearted conversation, after all. There was no actual ill-intent hidden behind each other’s words.

“Dios mio, I shall forgive you then.” He playfully told, nudging your shoulder as he chuckled.

“I’m glad.” You smiled, moving to grab another cheesy treat before stuffing it into your mouth. As you chewed, you picked up another and gently pushed it towards Camilo’s lips, signaling for him to eat it. He happily accepted your offer, biting a chunk of it. He hummed in content, enjoying the flavors as much as you did. He moves his hand to hold the piece instead, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the treat away from you.

Your fingers shake at the contact, which goes unnoticed by the boy.

“Anyways, I came here to ask if you wanted to come to my house.” He whispered nonchalantly, still chewing on the buñuelo he had inside his mouth. Your eyes shoot up in surprise, the question catching you off-guard.

You have never been to his house, nor had he ever offered you to. The only thing you knew was that the colorful building was just as magical as him, as well as the rest of the family who lived within. He would idly talk about them in passing conversations, but being personally invited was certainly new.

Though, it couldn’t be that bad, right? You two had grown close the past few months, it was bound to happen eventually.

“It’s mi hermanito’s ceremony is tonight, and I was hoping you’d want to stop by casita and help me with the decorations later.” He explained quickly, moving his hand to grab another cheesy treat from you. His tone was sheepish and even a bit quiet, but you could barely notice due to your current state. You stayed still, allowing him to steal a piece from you with ease.

“Ceremony?”

“Oh yeah! mi familia has these ceremonies where we get a door that decides our gift.” He nonchalantly told, tossing the buñuelo he stole into his mouth.

“You aren’t born with them?” You asked, your curiosity peaked.

“It’s complicated? I don’t really understand the rules of it all either.” He confessed, leaning back a bit. He rests his hands on the rough cement, taking in the scenery around him.

“All I know is some are lucky enough to get a gift...” He trailed off, leaving his sentence hanging. He stares off into the distance, and you try your best to follow his gaze. Your eyes land on a girl near your age, who you assumed was someone related to the boy beside you, surrounded by children. Her short curly hair was a mess, and the outfit she wore was decorated with colorful embroidery. She loudly talked about her family to the group of kids, pointing to the painting on the wall behind her from time to time.

“And some aren’t.” He finished, his tone bitter for some reason. You hummed in acknowledgment, not wanting to push him into something he wasn’t comfortable with discussing. You nudged his arm, handing the bag to him.

“I won’t be able to finish these by myself you know, why do you always have to buy so many?” You asked, subtlety changing the topic in hopes to lighten the dampened mood. Camilo turns his head towards you at the sound of your voice, a small smirk plastered on his face.

“I like sharing with you.” He blatantly stated, his quiet demeanor changing to the one you were used to in an instant. You could hear your breath hitch, your shoulders becoming so stiff that it could be mistaken for a pole. He tilted his head innocently, unaware that such a simple statement could cause so many feelings to bubble up inside of you.

“You have no shame.”

“But you wanted the truth, eh?”

“I don’t know how you—“

You’re cut off by a loud wail, which caused the both of you to jump in your seat. You two swiftly spin your heads to the source of the noise. You were greeted with a young woman desperately trying to calm down her child, the deep bags under her eyes basically shouted to the world that she barely had any sleep from the night before.

At the sight of the poor mother suffering, Camilo immediately stands up much to your surprise. You look up at him with a confused look, staring as he dusts off his pants.

“I’ll be back.”

“You’re gonna help her?”

“I’m kinda obligated to, the parents here consider me as their official babysitter.” He shrugged, unaffected by the fact that his free time was so abruptly interrupted.

“Not that I mind of course.”

Everything made sense now, whenever a parent was struggling to calm their child down, Camilo would drop everything just to help them out. He’d offer that the kid would stay with him for a bit, insisting that the parents should get some rest before leaving them with no other choice but to follow his words. You had witnessed it first hand occasionally, with some kids following you two whenever you guys would hang out because of that very reason.

It was sweet of him to do so, but you would be lying if you didn’t say that hearing some infant cry loudly next to your ears didn’t get on your nerves sometimes. Thankfully, he was able to calm the children down instantly, making them giggle or laugh when seconds before they had been crying so loud that you were pretty sure the other side of the world could hear it too.

You don't really know how he does it, as you would personally avoid a child like a plague if they even considered opening their mouth just to have a full-on breakdown, but in all honesty, you could care less. As long as they were quiet, you were content with them staying.

“Hold on.” You uttered, standing up with him. You point to the ground you two stood on, signaling for him to wait for you.

“Give me a minute.” You instructed.

Camilo raised an eyebrow, confused about what you were planning to do. However, he complied anyway, nodding with an affirmative look. You hummed, turning your back to him so that you could open the door behind you. You make sure to take off your shoes before taking a step inside your home, your footsteps echoing throughout the silent corridors. You make your way towards the empty living room, and you instantly spotted the thing you came for. You rush towards the couch you would usually nap on, and you picked up a bright, turquoise-colored pillow in the process.

You nod to yourself, flipping the small cushion around as you made your way back to Camilo, not wanting him to wait for too long. You spot him standing from where you initially had left him, his hands in his pockets as he rocks his body back and forth. You smile, hopping into your shoes before walking back to him. You shove the pillow against his chest, which caused the boy to stumble back a bit. He quickly regains his balance though, his hands rushing to instinctively hold the pillow he now had.

“Here, for the mom.” You told, gingerly patting his back before walking back to the porch again. He looks at you with wide eyes, his grip on the pillow tightening.

“Thanks!” He finally told, a grin on his face. You wave off his appreciation, using your lips to point at the still struggling mother as you sat down and grabbed the once-forgotten bag of buñuelos. He tosses the pillow in the air, catching it with one hand with ease. He gives you a pointed look, his eyes shifting between you and the bag you held.

“Save some for me hermosa!”

You scoffed at his words.

“Didn’t I offer to share in the first place?” You retorted, your tone light-hearted. He simply chuckles in return, raising his hands in playful defeat as he backs away.

“Fair.”

As he walked, he turned his body to you, mouthing the words “Wait for me.” before leaving you be. You hummed, already knowing you weren’t going anywhere anyway. You stayed on your porch, snacking on the delicious buñuelos as you watch Camilo give the pillow to the woman as he transforms into her. She gives him a grateful sigh, taking the pillow in exchange for her baby. The woman animatedly falls onto the wooden bench behind her, letting out a content hum before going into a deep slumber. Camilo smiles, making an exaggerated face at the baby before tossing the infant in the air, shapeshifting into multiple people before settling on some random guy.

The child giggles at the act Camilo had just performed for her, making grabby hands towards the boy. He shape-shifts back into himself, cooing fondly while he leans in per the baby’s request. She gently grabs his cheeks, giggling as she held his face. He laughs in return, spinning her around in pure bliss.

Camilo pauses in his steps, looking at you with the biggest grin you had ever seen. If you weren’t already sitting, your knees would’ve immediately given in at the look. You send him a small wave, a sheepish smile on your face as you did. Camilo excitedly waves back, raising the baby to his shoulder before gently grabbing her tiny hand.

He mimics a wave with her hand, showing off her gummy smile to you. Your heart melted at the adorable sight.

Diyos ko you were in deep—

No, you just admire him, that's all.

Totally. Definitely.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were even holding once he turned away.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to wait for him like you thought you would, your parents deciding to whisk you away in favor of going shopping for the ceremony instead. He had sent you a small pout as you passed by him, the baby now asleep in his arms.

You quickly, but quietly, reassured him you were still coming. Giving him a pitiful shrug before being dragged by your own mother. You mindlessly hummed or shook your head whenever your parents decided to show you something new, your mind too occupied with what the night had planned for you. In the end, your mother had bought you a new skirt to wear for the party, unbeknownst to you, insisting that you would look great in it. You just agreed with her, wanting to visit the famous casita that everybody had talked about as quickly as possible.

As you walked back to your home, you had noticed that Camilo had already left, the bench now empty. Your parents find their turquoise pillow neatly placed above a stack of newspapers on their porch, much to their confusion. You giggle to yourself, knowing all too well who had placed it there. You quickly excuse yourself from the two, making sure to reassure them that you would be back in time for the ceremony before leaving.

They wave you off, your mom placing a tender kiss on your cheek while your dad gingerly patted your head just for good measure. You walked through cobblestone-covered paths, trailing behind a guy who had a basket full of party decorations hoisted on his donkey. The man had noticed you were lost when he passed by your stressed-out figure, a worried look on his face as he asked about what could be the problem. And when you said you were struggling to find that path that led to the casita, he was quick to offer that he could guide the way as he was apparently heading there himself.

You accepted, of course, wanting to get out of those crowded streets. You two chatted from time to time as you walked, the outline of a house that rested on top of a hill was now getting closer and closer. You make your way up the hill, your mouth dropping in awe at the building in front of you. It was significantly different from the houses below, flowers decorated the roofs and a small rainbow rested above the house’s structure.

Your eyes shoot up, finding the girl from before standing right outside the building. The same kids surrounded her, looking at the other teen with disappointed eyes. The man you were with, stopped his donkey, patting it before calling out to the teen. They whipped their heads towards your direction, which you freeze at. The guy grabbed the basket from his companion and walked over to her, going on and on about her lack of gift.

So that’s what Camilo meant.

You winced, feeling the secondhand embarrassment for the girl. You quickly sneaked away from the conversation, not wanting to be a part of it any longer. You walked up to the opened entrance, its huge walkway intimidating you. You took a deep breath, giving yourself time to relax before finally stepping inside the home. You could feel your mouth drop for the second time. You were absolutely fascinated at the sight before you, it was as if you were in a brand new world. Tiles were moving by themselves, and flowers magically bloomed on the sturdy pillars that supported the place.

You took everything in, amazed at all the things around you. But before you could stare any longer, you were suddenly brought back to reality as you yelped at the bench that was coming towards you. You swiftly dodge its way, the men who held it showing no emotion for you as they continued to walk through the crowd. You huffed, slightly annoyed but begrudgingly let it go. You were in their path, after all, you reasoned.

You took a step forward, passing by multiple people just to reach the center. You let out an audible gasp when you felt the tiles move under you. You stumble backwards as a staircase that led to the second floor was forming right before your eyes in mere seconds. You laughed breathlessly, visibly astonished.

You hesitantly placed your arm on the new railings, unsure if you could walk up to it or not. However, as you contemplated, a booming yet assertive voice breaks your daze.

“Camilo, we need another José.” An old woman spoke, which caused you to look up from where you were. You find Camilo leaning against the railway, a sly smirk on his face as he crosses his arms. He turns to look at the man behind him, his hair flowing in the wind at the action. He quietly snorts at the older man struggling, his grin never leaving as he walked over.

“Josè!” He exclaimed, shapeshifting into him in order to hold up the other side. The old lady walks away, pleased with how the situation was taken care of. José hummed in discontent, however, his bushy brows knitted together. He looks between the precise replica version of himself and the cloth he was pinching with his fingers, letting out an audible “Oh!” when he had realized what he was missing. He looks around for a bit right after, his observant eyes wandering around the place before landing on you. You stiffen at eye contact, too focus on the other man to realize how Camilo’s face lit up when he spotted you as well.

“Hey! Can you grab the nails over there?” He asked politely, using his free hand to point at the box of nails that lay on the handrail, a hammer nesting beside it. You point at yourself in response, still very much unsure if he was talking to you. Camilo snorts loudly, failing miserably in hiding his giggles as José gives you an unamused stare.

“Yes— you, who else?” He retorted, sounding exasperated. Your face heats up in embarrassment, your body moving on autopilot while you sputtered out incoherent apologies to him, some sentences spoken in your own language due to your haze. You grabbed the box, and the hammer for good measure, the nails rustling around at your speed. You hold both items out to him with no hesitation, slightly deflating on the inside when he thanked you with barely any emotion in his tone.

You could sense Camilo’s stare piercing through you, his snickering seeping under your skin. You sigh, the blood in your cheeks still warm. José hammers in the nail, checking it twice before hesitantly letting go of his grip to ensure that the banner wouldn’t collapse on him. Thankfully it didn’t, which caused him to smile proudly. He grabs another nail from the box you held, waving you off as he turns to Camilo. He points the hammer to him, scoffing quietly at the other’s form.

“Alright, you two are free to go.” He stated, his face staying static. Camilo hands the other half of the fabric to him before turning into himself, his height significantly dropping. You scoffed in amusement, quickly looking away however when Camilo gave you a pointed stare. You let out a low whistle, stiffly walking back to the second-floor railings to avoid any possible accusations that would come from the boy if you continued to look any longer.

You could practically see him rolling his eyes though, a small smile gracing your face at the vision.

“Nice job José!” He complimented, looking at the man who was already making his way down the stairs. He nodded in response, swinging the hammer he had around his palm.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Camilo hummed, waving the older goodbye before making his way to you. His body was facing away from the ground floor, the back of his elbows resting on the wooden handrails.

“You made it!” He exclaimed, a smile on his face.

“Indeed I did.” You uttered, gently placing the box of nails to where it previously was. You look to Camilo with fascinated eyes, your pupils bigger than before.

“You’re living the life, you know.”

He chuckles at your words, shaking his head amusingly.

“Am I now?”

“Who wouldn’t want to live in a house like this?” You retorted, taking a step backwards while you extended your arms out. You gesture to the place around you, every square inch of the area filled with magic you’ve never seen before. You bring your feet together, your shoes making a loud click when they clashed against each other.

“It’s like hitting the jackpot!”

Camilo opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a sudden strong wind interrupts him, causing his clothes to flutter wildly in the air. You barely get any time to react before being pushed back by the wind yourself, the hot temperature now shivering cold. You accidentally hit the side of your ankle, causing you to tumble backwards. You instinctively close your eyes at that, your body fully expecting to be greeted with the hard tiled floor beneath you.

But surprisingly, you’re met with a warm hand snaking around your waist instead. It pulls you back up, a sturdy chest now colliding with your sweaty palms. You slowly open your eyes afterward, an unbuttoned, white-collar coming into view. You look up to find Camilo staring at you, his curly hair still being blown by the strong wind.

“You alright?” He asked, his eyebrows knitted together. You didn’t trust your voice to work at that moment, so you just nodded your head to indicate that you were indeed alright instead. He sighed in relief, his shoulders sagging as he did.

“Good,” Camilo muttered, loosening his grip on you. His hand didn’t leave, however, his palm resting comfortably on your waist. Despite the sudden cold, you were just starting to burn up. You could briefly hear a woman rambling about the ceremony, something about how it had to be absolutely perfect. You couldn’t understand the rest of it, however, as you could only focus on Camilo’s fingers brushing against your ear in order to tuck a loose strand of hair behind it. You stared at his face with wide eyes, your fingers twitching at the electrifying touch.

“Did somebody say, flowers?” An elegant voice spoke, which made both of your heads turn. A girl with perfect hair swung from the vines she had just grown, different colors of petals falling around her, mostly in the shades of purple and pink. People called out her name, complimenting the woman as they clapped for her. She gracefully lands on her feet, smoothly handing a new bouquet of flowers to another magical lady, the cloud above her head dissipating quickly.

“Please, don’t clap!“ She told, patiently waiting for the older lady to take the flowers before leaving.

“Thank you!” The woman called out, holding onto the bouquet as if it was her most prized possession.

“Oh, it’s nothing!” She responded, flicking her hair to the side. You visibly winced when you noticed her long locks hit the girl from before straight in the face, flowers blooming in her mouth while petals fall into her basket.

“Ouch,” Camilo muttered, flinching at the hit as well. You look down to his chest before letting out a forced cough, grabbing Camilo’s attention easily. His eyes go wide when he realized he was still holding onto you, accidentally squeezing your wait before letting go.

“Ah, sorry bonita.” He apologized, sheepishly scratching his neck as he watched you fix your top. Your ears burned, your heart going faster than the speed of light itself.

“It’s fine— uhm.”

“So—”

You two paused at the same time, blinking owlishly at the other.

“Should we continue with the decorations?”

“We should probably finish the decorations.”

Your sentences overlapped, your voices syncing at the last two words. You two stare at each other, no one daring to say a word. A beat of silence passes by before you two burst out into a laughing fit, finding the whole situation humorous.

“Diyos ko!” You exclaimed, grinning wildly. You wiped away the happy tears that brimmed your eyes, your vision slightly blurry due to the built-up water. He simply chuckled in return, extending his hand out to you.

“Well, let’s get to it now. Shall we?”

You smiled, taking his hand with no hesitation. He laces his fingers with yours, intertwining your hands together.

“We shall.”

“I don’t think you should be up there.” You muttered, watching Camilo wrap the floral garland he had around the wooden beams that supported the roof with hesitant eyes. He was merely balancing on the edge of the kitchen counter as he did so, nearly falling sometimes when he tried testing the waters and daringly went beyond what he could reach. You stood by him because of that, your fingers holding onto the cuffs of his pants for support.

“Go big or go home!”

“Then can we go home?”

“Very funny.” He sarcastically told, rolling his eyes before leaning forwards. You grip onto his pants tighter, your worry for him growing by the second.

“I know you’re magical and all, but you can still get hurt…”

Camilo looked down at you with a fond look, small wrinkles forming near his muddy green eyes. The color was mesmerizing to look at. If you looked for even a second too long, it felt like anyone could easily get lost in them, especially you.

“I’ll be fine Y/N! Don’t worry about it.”

“Just because you told me not to worry, doesn’t mean I should.” You murmured, looking down in embarrassment. Unbeknownst to you, Camilo’s eyes widen at your words. It catches him off guard even, the garland he held now slipping away from his fingers due to the shock. He yelps when sees the piece of decoration falling, reaching out to grab it on instinct. He accidentally takes a step too far, causing him to fall to the floor along with the garland.

“Camilo?!” You exclaimed, rushing to kneel in front of him. He groans in pain, the garland landing perfectly on his head. You swiftly cupped his face, bringing him close to inspect his face for possible injuries. You didn’t even notice what you were doing, and couldn’t even find yourself to stop as Camilo didn’t even bother to interrupt you. He looks at you with his mouth agape, still reeling back from the shock he had just experienced. You sigh in relief when you couldn’t find any gashes around his face or arms, oblivious to Camilo’s rapidly beating heart.

“I think we’ll do just fine without the garland.” You whispered, letting out a breathless chuckle. You gingerly picked the item off his head, shaking it around your palms before wrapping it around his neck like a scarf.

“Don’t want any more accidents now, do we?”

Camilo gulped, staying still for a moment before nodding viciously.

“Yes— right. Totally agree.” He muttered, keeping direct eye contact with you. You hummed, satisfied with his response. You slowly get up on your feet, offering your hand to Camilo right after. He grabbed it instantly, and you quickly pulled him up, stumbling back a bit due to the extra weight.

You look out the window to see the sun almost setting, your eyes widening at the fact. You completely forgot about the party, that you were setting up for! How does one even do that?! Your mom is gonna be so mad at you for being late a second time, oh you could practically hear her scolding you now. Amidst your worrying, Camilo finally regains his balance, blocking the window from your line of sight. You finally snap out of your haze, being brought back to reality in front of you.

“Oh dear god! I’m so sorry if this is so sudden, but the party is starting soon and I haven’t even gotten ready yet! And—“ A rough finger touches your lips, causing you to stop your rambling. You find Camilo looking at you with an intense gaze, his eyes never leaving yours.

“It’s fine hermosa, I should be the one apologizing for holding you up in the first place!” He meekly told, letting his finger fall to his waist. Your heart skips a beat at the nickname, the butterflies in your stomach more evident than before.

“I’ll see you soon?” He smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You sighed in relief, nodding to him as you began to walk away.

“See you soon!” You waved, smiling wildly. You walk towards the kitchen entrance, looking back at him for one last time before leaving Camilo to himself.

Camilo waits for a second or two before sighing aloud, stretching his neck as he turns to face the kitchen counter. Casita’s tiles finally begin to move, bringing him a plate with a neatly wrapped arepa on it. He scoffs, grumbling to himself in shame. He walks over, snatching the snack off the plate.

“You knew what you were doing, not saving me there when you could’ve easily helped.” He told, taking a bite of the delicious treat. The pain soon begins to dissolve, all of it washing away once the texture of the arepa touched his tongue. The cupboards doors swing open back and forth, resembling a shrug.

Camilo could only groan in return.

Dictionary

Diyos ko - dear god / oh god

Hermosa - gorgeous

Bonita - beautiful

Dios mio - dear god / oh god

Señor - sir

Mi hermanito - my little brother

Mi familia - my family

Buñuelos - a buñuelo is a fried dough fritter found in spain, latin america, israel, and other regions with a historical connection to spaniards or sephardic jews

PLAYLIST FICS

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