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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years

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Give it time: ch4

Click here for chapter 1 Click here for chapter 2 Click here for chapter 3

A/N: It took a while, but here is the continuation of Give it time. For the people who requested it, don’t worry. This is not the last chapter! I think about writing one, maybe two more. This one is written from Thor’s point of view. Hope you like it!

Brother ‘Loki? What are you doing in Asgard?’ Thor asked surprised when he saw his younger brother walking through the hall.

‘It’s my home, so what do you think?’ Loki answered clearly irritated. Before Thor could answer he walked past. Thor had learned to let Loki be when he was in one of his moods, and went in search of his mother. He found her in the garden.

After he had greeted his mother properly he asked ‘What is wrong with Loki?’

Her smiled turned sad. ‘I only know that he and (Y/N) had a fight. Apparently she has gotten back together with her ex-boyfriend Steve? He was a bit cryptic and didn’t feel like talking about it. All I know that he is been in a foul mood, berating the staff, annoying your father and recently he started to drink and attend party’s… trying to find his happiness elsewhere’

‘What do you mean broke up? (Y/N) truly loved him, I didn’t even know she and Steve were together once’

‘This is all I know, he barely sleeps, is angry all the time, and I’m afraid he is planning something. I think it is best you go talk to him’ Frigga told him.

Thor hummed in agreement, and went to search for Loki. A task proven to be extremely difficult if his younger brother didn’t want to be found. It took him half the afternoon, but he finally found Loki sulking in his own private library.

‘Brother, what happened?’ Thor asked.

‘Go away, Thor. I’m not in the mood for you or the volume of your voice’ Loki snarled.

‘Tell me what happened, you’re miserable that is plain to see. Maybe I can help?’ Thor asked, ignoring his brother’s bad temper.

‘Thanks for the compliment, and no you can’t help me. Nobody can’ Loki answered.

‘Loki, just tell me’ Thor sighed. ‘If you do, I will leave you alone’ he added.

This got the attention of Loki. ‘Fine’ he said. And Loki explained his version of events. The past between Steven and (Y/N). How Steve has been setting (Y/N) up against him, how she is too naïve, how Steve practically admitted that he wanted her and how he walked in on them kissing each other. Thor listened to every word and kept his thoughts and questions to himself, letting Loki finish uninterrupted. After the story came to an end, he had to find the right words. Words and meanings were everything to Loki and he couldn’t mess this up. Not when Loki finally let him in.

When the silence endured Loki spoke first ‘You may take your leave now’ he grabbed one of his books and opened it halfway through.

‘What did (Y/N) say about all this?’ Thor asked, he wondered since he hadn’t heard anything about it.

‘We did not talk, I just left’ Loki said through gritted teeth.

‘And you haven’t had any contact with her since then?’ Thor asked.

‘No, weren’t you listening?’

‘Then how do you know if your version is true?’ he asked.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Loki asked.

‘If everything you say is true, then how do you know that she’s with Steve? That she loves him? I know her, and she was crazy about you. I just can’t believe that she would do this…’

‘I saw it’

Thor just chuckled a little ‘If there are two things I learned from growing up with you: one, pay very close attention to what you are actually saying and two, nothing is what is seems’

Loki smirked a little ‘That is because I’m a skilful sorcerer and the God of Lies’ then his smile faltered ‘It doesn’t matter anymore, this was all some time ago. By now she surely is with Steve, and I wish them a very unhappy life together’ he said while his attention shifted back to his book.

‘And what are you planning?’ Thor asked, remembering the words of his mother.

‘I may have thought about ways to kill Steve, but I’m not anymore. I’m just attending a party tonight. So, you can tell mother she’s worries for nothing’

‘It’s not like you to drink and attend parties. You always hated them’ Thor said a bit surprised.

‘Well yeah, but where else meet a girl for a night?’ Loki smirked.

‘Or you could come with me’ Thor said.

‘To where?’

‘Back to Midgard, to the Avengers. You can clear things up with (Y/N), because I’m not buying this story to be true. Plus, your still part of the team and can’t just leave whenever you feel like it’ Thor said.

‘No thanks’ Loki said.

‘Loki, you look like crap and knowing you, you probably feel worse. So, coming back can only improve your mood. If not, I promise I will let you attend ever party in Asgard and you can drink and fuck your problems away. But you will hate yourself if you didn’t at least hear her out’ Thor said angrily.

It took Loki aback a bit. He pondered over the question. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he then asked.

This took Thor aback. ‘Because you’re my brother and I want you to be happy’ he answered.

Loki clearly was struggling with not letting the emotion show on his face, Thor let him get away with it, it was what Loki needed at the moment.

‘But you don’t believe me?’ Loki asked after a while.

‘I do believe you, I just think there is more to the story. If it is the whole story we leave immediately, I promise’ Thor said.

‘Together?’ Loki asked.

‘Together, I got your back’ Thor confirmed. He got up and walked towards the exit of the library. He would have to prepare the journey to Midgard. He looked back when he heard Loki say ‘Thor… thanks brother’. Thor just smiled and nodded, but in his heart there was nothing but love for his little brother. Who, despite the way he could lash out, he loved very dearly and he knew that Loki cared about him, even if he didn’t always show it.

Back on Midgard The Bifrost opened and Thor and Loki stood in front of the familiar compound. Thor noticed that Loki used magic to make himself appear more together, but didn’t comment on it. The two of them walked in the tower. That’s when they heard Tony.

‘Thank God, latterly, that the two of you are finally here!’ he exclaimed.

‘Why, what’s wrong?’ Thor asked.

‘What’s wrong? (Y/N) is an absolute mess, she barely eats and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. I can’t believe you did that to her’ he looked accusingly at Loki.

‘I didn’t do anything, she was the one that kissed Steve’ Loki angrily replied.

‘Huh, what? You were the one that cheated on her. She broke when she found out about it’ Tony said.

Thor was confused. Yes, in the past Loki has betrayed the one’s he loved many times. But he always had a good reason, it was not like him to betray the woman he loved for a bit of fun.

‘WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?’ Loki snarled.

Tony grabbed his phone and showed them the video that Steve had showed him. It was Loki at some party in the compound, drinking and kissing with some other woman Thor didn’t recognize. Loki looked intently at the video. ‘That’s not me! How did you even get that?’ Loki asked.

‘Steve showed it to us’ Tony replied. While Loki was ranting on about Steve he and Tony started to discuss the realness of the video. Thor sneaked away and went in search of (Y/N). He knocked on her door, but there was no answer.

‘(Y/N), I’m coming in’ he said, hoping she was okay. He opened her room, which was still dark. (Y/N) lay under the covers, the air in the room didn’t smell fresh, and around her bed there were several empty bottles of wine.

‘(Y/N)?’ Thor asked. She suddenly turned around and faced him. She sat up straight. Thor could tell she had lost weight, probably from not eating. There were bags and dark circles under her eyes and her hair was greasy.

‘Leave’ she said angrily and Thor saw a hint of the fire that Loki used to love about her.

‘No, I think…’ but he was cut of by (Y/N) throwing an empty wine bottle towards him. It missed his head and broke against the wall, glass flying around the room. ‘LEAVE’ she half-yelled again.

‘I will leave when you talked to me, and I talked to you’ Thor said sternly. He looked her in her eyes, they seemed to be in some sort of staring contest. He could tell she was tired.

She sighed ‘Fine, but I don’t wan to hear a thing about your brother’ tears were already forming in her eyes.

‘Just tell me your version of events, and if it makes sense I promise that I will take Loki back to Asgard with me’ Thor said. Her eyes widened when she heard that Loki was here. For a moment she felt relieved, and wanted nothing more than to run towards him. Hoping he would wrap his arms around her and spin her around. But then she remembered the video Steve showed her about a month after Loki left. He tried to help her get over him, but it only made things worse.

When (Y/N) started to tell he story, Thor discovered that they didn’t add up, just as he expected. He couldn’t help but get angry at Steve for orchestrating this whole thing. He got so angry that a storm was brooding over the compound, something that hadn’t happen in a few hundred years. But now, he couldn’t control himself. He saw (Y/N) flinch when she heard the rumbling sound of thunder, but couldn’t help himself. She had finished her story and Thor was hallway through to explaining Loki’s version of it, when the door burst open.

Tony came running towards (Y/N) yelling ‘It’s deepfake, it’s deepfake!’ he was panting and couldn’t say anything more. That’s when he saw that (Y/N)’s eyes just notice done presence that was looming in the doorway, Loki.

Permanent taglist: @delightfulheartdream @the-best-phineas @pescadoavocado @theestorm @theaudacitytowrite @justacripple

People who definitely needed the story to continue/commented on the other chapter (hope you don’t mind me tagging you!): @onlyforloki @not-your-bitch @lovelokiqueen @unicorns105 @phenelopejoy @elliemustdraw @lokiestorch

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kittenofdoomage · 3 years

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Happy Birthday to my blog, seven years ago today I started out in this strange wilderness and it's only gotten stranger 👍 nearly 700 stories and over 3.3 million words of fanfiction.

I was just going to leave this as a happy birthday blog post but I feel like I've got a few things I need to get off my chest, so this is below the cut, I know not everyone wants to or particularly cares to read it so there's ya choice 🤷‍♀️

There's no big announcements here FYI. I'm just doing what my friends have told me and putting my thoughts down on paper.

Some of you may have noticed I'm not posting anything on Tumblr anymore. The lack of interaction (comments, asks etc.) has just really put me off putting anything on here because it doesn't really feel like anyone either wants to read it or wants me around anymore, and I'm not gonna beg for attention. I'm not surprised, to be honest, my whole life I've been a square peg in a round hole. People just don't want me around - it's not just online. In real life there's exactly one place I feel like no one wants me to leave and that's in my house, with my family. I've just always been an odd person, and there aren't many people who vibe with me, it's cool, I've accepted it. But I'm not gonna be opening myself to that discomfort or pain anymore. My fics are all on Ao3 and I'll continue to post on there, my Tumblr will remain but I can't find the strength to get excited about something and then deal with the crushing feeling that no one wants my work. TBH I barely check Tumblr that much anymore bc I only come on here to check messages (usually from Beka, who knows all of this already but if you're reading this, thank you for listening to me and being patient with my mental breakdowns). My asks are staying off for now (sorry, Heart Anon, I love you, I've no idea who you are but please know you've been a light in my life and I appreciate you so much, and Marie, you have also been a beautiful friend with your daily gifs and hearts) but my PMs are on, just don't expect an answer right away.

I turn 35 tomorrow. It's been playing on my mind a lot, especially since my life expectancy ain't looking too good lol. I don't really have much of a life outside Tumblr. I'm a pretty boring person actually. Writing was the way I expressed myself and I truly enjoyed interacting with people who liked my stories. During the pandemic, it's been a way to keep myself focused and keep from slipping into the dark places we're all too familiar with. But there have been occasions lately where writing has been the cause of a slip into a dark place. And that's not healthy, and I need to work on it. I feel this is the time to stop forcing myself to write, seeing as I can't do much of it with my tiny human home for the school holidays.

My Patrons don't need to worry, I've still got material to share, it's a commitment I intend to honor because really, writing is the only thing I have, the only thing I feel I can do well and I am so, so, so, appreciative of every single person that supports me. I can't have a regular job right now (I hope that will change at some point because I've worked all my life until I got sick and I hate it) but you guys have given me a thread of independence, of dignity, and I value every one of you so much, those who have supported, who continue to support and who do so in the future.

I know this won't get absorbed, because it never does but those of you who read on Tumblr... please share the work you like. Set up a separate blog if you're too embarrassed to share on your main, make a reblogging blog, send asks, whatever, just please tell your author how much you liked what they did. I can assure you, those authors are waiting for it. We work so hard on what we make, what we create, we want you to scream from the rooftops. It doesn't even have to be coherent, we love all the feedback, we crave it (as long as it's not just a demand for part two, even Thor learned to ask for more without being rude about it, everyone else can). Without it, we're like plants without water. We don't feel the want to create anymore. And that's kinda where I'm at now. I don't want to lose my passion for my art but when there's nothing to do it for, sometimes it's out of our hands.

So, that's where I'm at. I'll probably lose followers (though I've already lost 250 in the last two months so that's not a surprise) and if any of my Patrons feel like my statement is unacceptable, that's fine. I don't expect anyone to agree with me. I just wanted to put my feelings down, to be honest with everyone. And I have.

I don't want the list of stories to end at 700. I want to keep creating stories that everyone will enjoy. I really hope things with change, even if not for me, then for the others out there who are on their creative journey.

Much love to everyone, stay safe xxx

(this post will remain untagged so it will not show in searches and I'm not tagging those people who I have spoken to about this and my feelings in general, as they know who they are, and they know they're very special, amazing, and appreciated people to me. I don't particularly care if this gets reblogged or not.)

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egcdeath · 4 years

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strangers again

summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)

You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.

Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.

You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.

After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.

You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?

The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.

You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.

Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.

Yet, after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.

After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.

----

You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.

You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.

About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.

So you did.

----

You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.

“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.

Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.

“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.

Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.

You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.

After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.

“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.

“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.

“Who taught you that?”

Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”

“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.

You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.

Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.

You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.

Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.

“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”

Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.

You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.

Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.

“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.

“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.

——

You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.

You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?

You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.

You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.

You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.

After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.

You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.

That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.

Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.

If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.

Until you did.

After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.

It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.

Y: Is this Steve?

You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.

S: Is this Y/N?

Y: Yes.

Y: We should tlak

Y: *talk

S: I agree.

Y: So lets

Y: talk

S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.

Y: Then call me???????????????????

S: We should talk in person.

Y: Im not gonna do that sober

S: You’re not sober?

Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole

S: I guess you’re right

S: So are we gonna talk?

Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10

S: AM or PM?

Y: AM I’m off

S: Are you sure you want to do this?

Y: Say yes before i change my mind

S: I’ll see you there

Y: Bye babydaddy

S: ????

You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.

----

It was not all just a dream.

You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.

Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.

10:00 AM b cup coff w Steeb

You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.

You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.

Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.

Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.

“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.

“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.

“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.

“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.

“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.

“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.

“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”

“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.

You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.

Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”

“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”

“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.

Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.

“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.

“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”

Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.

“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”

Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.

“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”

“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”

“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”

“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”

“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

----

At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.

“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.

“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”

“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.

“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.

“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”

“Is that alright with you, Steve?”

“More than fine.”

Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.

“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”

You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.

“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.

“When did you meet my mom?”

“Before you were even born.”

“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”

“Have you met any?”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.

“Nope, never. Have you?”

“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”

You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.

The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.

“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”

That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.

“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.

Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”

“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.

----

After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.

The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.

“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.

“I know, I know,” Steve began.

“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.

You’d never felt more at home.

——

me with this fic:

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #angst #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #request

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vv3nti · 4 years

Text

liar — t. oikawa & h. iwaizumi

synopsis—a love triangle of unrequited love

warnings—angst , unrequited love , break-up , some aspects based off american high school , there may be a little ooc i'm still learning to writing the hq boys sorry :/

a/n—this is a one-shot i wrote i'm hoping to make into a series- i've started part two so that's promised if not a series, send an ask or wtv to be tagged for that <3

“I’m tired of hiding, Tooru. I’m tired of being kept a secret.” You said softly, twirling the necklace around your neck between two fingers. The weight of this relationship finally lifting off your shoulders, but that didn’t stop the inevitable thump growing in your throat. You love Oikawa, you really do, but you can’t keep going like this. Your heart won’t allow it. You want someone proud to show you off and cherish you with all they have. Maybe, your expectations were too high from the beginning; if you had set the bar lower, this all could have been avoided. Or if Oikawa truly cared for you, loved you as he said he did. Whatever the reason, the dull ache was too much to bear. “I can’t do this anymore; it hurts too much.”

Oikawa had not expected those words to leave your plush lips. No, he thought you’d complain again, he’d kiss it better, and you would forget about it, like usual. But this—this was the last thing he wanted to hear. You were happy; he was sure of it. What the hell provoked you to feel like this? “What do you mean? We agreed we would wait.”

“Yeah, months ago.” You wave your hand through the air. You had no intention of allowing the boy to dismiss your concerns, not again. “And every time I mention it, you disregard my feelings like they don’t matter.”

His eyebrows furrowed, a clear frown set on his face. “Of course, your feelings matter to me.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Anxiety started creeping up your spine, a deep shiver demersing. You couldn’t help but feel off-put; if you didn’t end the conversation fast, you knew you’d slip back in his clutches. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. No one even knew we were together; that means things can go back to normal.”

“Normal?” He mumbled, eyes downcast to the floor. “What does that even mean? Nevermind that—is this about my fangirls? Because I can tell them to back off. Or Mei? Did she say something to you.” Oikawa’s calm demeanor began to wear off, and panic soon set it. The perfect picture he had planted in his head was decaying within the second, and he couldn’t manage the thought. He couldn’t even see the harsh reality behind his imagination; nothing about your relationship was ideal. Oikawa pushed you too far off the deep end, and as he tried to meet his own needs, he neglected yours.

His hands reached out to you, afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t get ahold of you soon.

The mention of his ex stung a little more than it should. But what are you supposed to feel? Tooru was publicly dating her for a lot longer than you've been together and you felt inferior to her in so many ways. They didn't break up on bad terms and you can't help but wonder if he still has feelings for her—it would justify his need to keep you a secret. “No! I’m done, I’m done with this, Tooru. This how couples are supposed to act; I don’t want to act like this. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this. I need time, a break, anything but this.”

That night you both went home with a gaping hole in your chest and beds a little colder than before. Uncertainty crept in; was this a temporary break or a breakup. Neither of you had the answer.

You spent the first day of the long weekend cooped in your room, fresh tear streaks following the tracks on the old. On Sunday, you had to head to the school to decorate lockers for senior night or week in Sejohs case; the volleyball team had games on Tuesday and Friday this week. Luckily your appointed third year was Iwaizumi, so you didn’t have to trouble over an awkward encounter with Oikawa. Monday consisted of endless baking; it was safe to say you went slightly overboard. Assortments of brownies, cupcakes, mini cheesecakes, and peach cobbler aligned the countertops. One might say you’re a stress baker.

On the contrary, Oikawa spent his weekend hounding down on his team with tiring drills and repetitive rotations. His temper was short, and his attitude anything but playful. None of the club members wanted to be the one to confront their captain, leaving him alone in his thoughts—thoughts about you. At night he got little to no sleep, spending his sleepless nights replaying all his wrongs as if the answer will all of a sudden appear. But how is Oikawa supposed to fix a problem he didn’t even know what there.

Tuesday rolled around faster than anyone could have expected. You sat restlessly in the clubroom, waiting for Iwaizumi to meet you there. You requested him to join you in the room, considering you didn’t walk to school with him and Oikawa as you usually would. Regardless of where you interacted, you knew Iwa had many questions, and you’d preferably be interrogated in private than in front of the entire student body.

Iwa rushed into the room, school bag around his shoulder and one of his jerseys flailing in his hand. “Hey,” He spoke, his usually irritated tone nowhere to be heard. Upon seeing him, scorching anxiety rose in your chest. Deep breaths, Y/N, deep breaths. “I brought this.”

“Iwa, hi,” You chirped, hopping on the tabletop and embracing your friend—holding on a little tighter than usual. Despite your constant mantra of ‘I’m fine,’ you did long for some form of comfort. “Yes, right, thank you. Just set in on my bag. I want to show you what I made.” You dragged the boy by his hand to the table occupying your tasty treats. You figured he could share the desserts with the rest of the team once they won tonight. The hopeful look on your face slightly dropped. Iwa didn’t look as excited as you hoped for. Instead, he looked deep in thought, like something was bothering him.

“What’s going on?” He questioned quietly, finally meeting your puzzled eyes. “Come on, Y/N, you cook when you’re upset. Anyone who’s known you for more than a year knows that.”

Mouth ajar and eyes wide, you searched for an excuse to preach to Iwaizumi—although you know your attempts will be futile. Since you were in elementary school, you’ve grown up the boy and had no doubt he would read you like an open book. And if not you, then most definitely Oikawa. “Nothings going on; I just wanted you to have an array of options. Is that so bad? You could be a little more thankful, you know.”

“Of course, I’m thankful for all of this. But I’m going to find it a little concerning when Shittykawa is as quiet as a mouse, and you’ve got bags under your eyes from what? The hours you spent baking through the night?.” Iwa uttered, raising his voice a bit.

Unfortunately, that only further pushed you to the defensive stature. You wished he’d just leave it, shove it under a rug as you did this weekend. “Not everything I do involves Oikawa! If he’s acting weird, then you can ask him about that instead of undermining what I did for you!” You frantically grabbed your bag off the ground, planning to leave the room. “If you didn’t like it, you could have said thanks and thrown it away—”

“Hey, Hey,” A tight grip encloses around your bicep, halting your departure. “I’m sorry, I really like everything you did for me, you know cheesecake is my favorite. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi’s grip doesn’t falter, even as your teary eyes meet his own.

The lump grew in your throat as you fought back the waterworks. “We broke up, or I broke up with him, I guess. Can you even break up with someone who didn’t want you in the first place?” You said, through a broken sob. Iwa doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you with the same pitiful look you’ve seen a thousand times. His free hand moved to the side of your face, patting your hair a few times before he pushed your head into his chest. Words wouldn’t provide you with the support you needed, so Iwa simply let you cry in his embrace—secretly plotting all the ways he wanted to beat Oikawa’s ass.

He didn’t need to ask. He knew all the reasons why this happened. Hell, Hajime had seen the foreseeable future unravel when Oikawa presented your relationship.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a downer on game day.” You lifted your head, lightly brushing your palms along his uniform, waiting for your tears to dry. The door to the clubroom snapped open, hitting the opposing wall, prompting you and Iwa to rush apart. The look on the face read shocked, more towards the fact you didn’t need the club questioning why you were crying this early in the morning. But the brunette boy in front of you idly took a long, deep breath encouraging you to do the same.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“Just Iwa and his not-girlfriend, what’s new?” Mattsun and Makki seemed to be having a good morning, and not even Iawizumi could shake them out of the teasing moods. Despite their playful banter, you couldn’t help but focus on the silent set of eyes following your movements, and something about his silence was off-putting.

You turned to the two, a sly smile planted on your lips. “I’m not even indulging,” Fake it til’ you make it. “But I did make a small arsenal of desserts, so help yourself-”

“If I decide to share with these idiots.”

“Help yourself-if Iwa chooses to so graciously gift you the pleasure.” You said sweetly, playfully bowing as Mattsun and Makki rolled their eyes. “I have to go to class, so enjoy, and good luck.”

“Here I got it.” Iwa offered, plucking your bag from the floor with a small smile. The kind gesture made your heart flutter, your mood beginning to lift simultaneously. Ever since you were little, Iwaizumi always seemed to know what you needed to feel better, almost like an institution. Maybe that’s why his tone was short and sharp when he told Oikawa to move away from the door as you tried to leave, you’re used to his cold demeanor, but it was unsettling. You didn’t want him to be this angry with his best friend because of you, although it was a little awarding.

Oikawa’s lips laid ajar, fumbling his thoughts to form a reasonable enough sentence. He wanted to say something astounding to you, something that gave you no choice but to come back to him. He planned it all day yesterday, but now as you hide behind Iwa, he drew a blank.

“I’m serious, Oikawa. Move.”

Oikawa hung his head in shame, shuffling to the side, allowing you and Iwa to exit the room. The overwhelming feeling of patheticness climbing his veins. He didn’t mind his best friend’s anger towards him, but this wasn’t rage. Iwaizumi was disappointed, and Tooru couldn’t shake his glare.

Practice was usually a time the boys could assert their worries into energy, but the thick tension left everyone unsettled. Today’s warmup was eerily different.

Tooru watched you bounce in and out of the gym with the rest of the cheer squad; Iwa’s jersey adorned your figure. His expression held that of a kicked puppy, and it was pissing off the rest of the team. They needed their captain in his best frame of mind if they wanted to win.

Hajime’s humorless laugh broke the silence. “I warned you, you know.” Oikawa shifted his attention. “I told you you’d only hurt her, and you continued reassuring me you wouldn't, time after fucking time. And...there was a time I believed you, but you’re a liar, and Y/N sees it too.”

Oikawa’s sadness morphed into anger, eyes twitching as he bit the inside of his cheek. “If I’m a liar, that makes you one too.” He sneered, eyes still downcast on the court. His emotions were on overdrive, plucking and pinching in his mind. Oikawa knew he should resort to this method of release, but he was losing all control.

The ace sucked in a sharp breath, eye blazing. “Yea, well, I can live with that. Can you?”

Coach cut the conversation short, asking why the boys weren’t warming up before the game. The captain and ace have begotten many altercations through the years, but they always found a way to convert their anger into power. Coach Irihata only hopes that proves true with tonight’s game.

You, on the other hand, had a million tasks to complete before you could settle down in the gym, so you ultimately missed the scuffle in the gym. Just that didn’t make you ignorant to the rising tension, and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

#haikyuu!!#oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu angst #oikawa angst #iwaizumi angst #oikawa x reader x iwaizumi #mattsukawa issei #takahiro hanamaki

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.34

A Little Spell

07/20/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,799

Warnings: smut, language, FLUFF, cute babies, slight angst

A/N: Enjoy! I’ve had fun with this one. As always if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work.

Tags are CLOSED!

Please do not REPOST my work on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are welcome!

Spring has awoken in Broklin. The sky is blue once more. Small tufts of cotton clouds fly by overhead as you walk with Maggie in your arms. She’s little, only three months, and aging with the peony blossoms in your gardens.

She wears one in her soft hay colored hair, carefully pinned by her Godmother Natasha this morning.

As she gawks at a flying bird, her chubby baby arms stretched out as if to touch it, your mind has a fleeting thought as you think about Nat, as it does every time you think of her.

What is he not telling me?

You remember it like it were only last night, Steve and Sam racing from your bedroom with a scroll crushed in Steve’s right hand.

He’d come back hours later looking tired and worried for only a moment as he walked into the room and then he’d smiled at you as you sat up, your little girl pressed to your breast as she fed.

He’d laid down beside you and kissed Maggie’s little feet just to hear her fuss a little and then laid with his eyes shut. Thinking things that you wanted but couldn’t know. Wouldn’t know. Still don’t know.

You’d known better at the time than to ask him what all of his rushing around had been about and instead settled Maggie between the two of you after she’d fed and only after he was asleep had you moved her into her cradle.

Steve had wrapped his arms around you in his sleep as you’d moved closer to him and it had chased away any fretting you’d had at the prospect of more trouble.

Despite the fear that had begun to grow in your mind, your worries seem to be unfounded as nothing has happened to alarm you or, really, anyone in the Kingdom.

“Sister!”

The call shatters your thoughts back to this blissful spring day and you turn to see Morgana moving quickly towards you, one hand holding up her pale green dress. The little vines etched along her collar and sleeves stand out in dark green and earthy brown.

“Morgana, your Majesty.” Peter states, moving towards Morgana and give her a quick bow while she too stops to greet him.

“Hello, Peter!” She smiles, then hurries back to you while Peter leaves you two to wait by the garden entrance.

You inspect your work—her dress—worried about the state of the stitching as she flounces about, but it’s holding up very well.

“Morgana, I thought you were in your lessons until the afternoon?” You chastise, eyes narrowed suspiciously as Maggie gasps in excitement, coos, and kicks her legs so quickly that you have to adjust her dress around her little feet. She’s a vision in pale blue to compliment the rosy pink peony in her hair.

Your own dress a stunning yellow, and a ribbon around your waist to match the color of Maggie’s dress.

With a little one, you have had to learn to keep your hair up or tied back. Grandmother had insisted on a braid this morning. Long with peonies also wound through to match your daughter.

For the most part, you don’t understand the fuss everyone has been making over the two of you looking so coordinated but apparently it is a tradition of the kingdom for a Queen and her child to set an example of “unity” . How exactly clothes show this, you have no idea.

“Hello little Maggie.” Morgana gushes then opens her arms to take her.

Handing your daughter over, you adjust her dress as Morgana gets her comfortable.

“Don’t ignore me, Morgana.” You warn her, with love of course.

“I’m not ignoring you.” She huffs. “I’m merely using my beautiful niece to avoid answering the question.”

You laugh. A confession you had not been expecting.

“What are you doing here?” You demand, still chuckling as the two of you resume your walk through the winding hedges of your now wild garden.

All these flowers once grouped with their own species and rigorously kept apart before were now in a truly wild blend of organized chaos.

“I finished early and the Master asked if I would like to proceed to the next lesson or spend the day on my own…” She begins.

“And naturally you decide that the day is better spent with Maggie and I?”

“Of course!” Morgana smiles, tickling Maggie’s little tummy. “Isn’t that right, Princess?”

“You should have gotten a head start on your lessons.” You reason.

“And miss out on this beautiful day? I don’t think so. Besides, my brother-in-law would like to see you. It looks like a meeting.” Morgana says, knowing that you will know what she means. “He sent me down to fetch you, and to take little Maggie back upstairs for her nap.”

“Has something happened?” You panic, stopping to look at her with wide eyes.

Maybe you were getting too comfortable too soon?

“I don’t know.” She laughs. “Father tells me nothing and mother insists that I stay out of all Avenging business.”

“They’re right, Morgana…I’m so glad that you weren’t anywhere near during the battle.” You worry. “Or Shuri. I’m glad she and her brother had to go back home before anything could happen.”

“They could have helped. The Black Panther is very skilled. And powerful.” Morgana reasons.

“He is.” You nod. “But I would have everyone be safe rather than risk the dangers of the castle that night.”

“You make it sound so terrifying.” She tells you, not realizing that you’d left out a chunk of compelling story when you’d recounted the events of the night.

“It was.” You assure her.

“Sister, even if it was scary, don’t you think that all of the Avengers fought for a reason? They all want to protect you. And my brother-in-law fights for more than just you and Maggie. He fights for the freedom of his kingdom.”

She thinks a moment, and smiles. “But mostly for you. You should see the way he watches you and Maggie. There’s a fear in his expression that I don’t understand. Almost a yearning. Even Nat says that she does not remember him ever looking at anyone so.”

“I don’t want anyone fighting for me, Morgana. I want everyone to be safe.”

There must be something in your eyes as you insist because she nods, understanding.

“Where were they?” You move on, eager to forget the night of Maggie’s birth.

“It’s only Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha.” She informs you, making sure you know it isn’t the entire team. “They’re waiting for you in Steve’s den.”

“Can you manage Margaret?” You wonder, waiting to see what she’ll say.

Morgana rolls her eyes, “Of course, I can! Now go.”

With a bite to your bottom lip you quickly lean in and press a kiss to Maggie’s cheek.

She turns towards you as you pull away. Eyes wide and hands and feet flailing and kicking in excitement.

“I’ll see you shortly my pretty girl.” You coo at her then head towards the castle at a hastened pace.

As you pass the gate you move to Peter’s side with a pleading look.

“Will you stay and watch over her?” You fuss, worried about leaving Morgana alone with Maggie. Not that you don’t trust her, but you’re a little more wary now after so many close calls.

“I-” Peter begins, ready to defy you in favor of protecting you. He’s your personal guard!

“Please, Peter. I need to know that I can trust you to protect her if I cannot be around.” You plead.

Peter watches your expression then glances behind you towards Maggie and Morgana.

“Of course, your Majesty. I will protect them both with my life.” He promises, easing the worries in your heart.

You hurry on, but just as you reach the door you look back at your daughter once more and find Morgana helping her wave her tiny clenched fist as she mouths Bye-bye momma! Peter joining them with a small jog.

As he stops beside them, Morgana’s gaze is diverted, and her cheeks fill with a rosy tint.

You return their small wave and allow your feet to carry you faster through the castle towards Steve’s den.

On the second floor you pass Sharon nestled into a small library with her nose in a book.

You stop, warring with your two halves. The one side of you is eager to greet her and ask her to accompany you to this new meeting that you’ve suddenly been summoned for when you’re so often left in the dark about Avengers matters. You’re grateful to her for saving your life and the life of your little girl.

Then there’s the second half. The wife half. The woman within you that remembers the sight of her nestled in against Steve’s chest. The stern set of her jaw when you staked your claim for him and then the feeble attempt at an apology that so clearly had meant nothing at the time.

Your jealousy is moderate now. It doesn’t rear its head like a starving monster anymore, but it’s still there. You are Steve’s and he belongs to you. You’ve rarely felt the need to make it clear that you belong to each other. When you see Sharon being one of those occasions.

With a quick breath, cut short by a determined huff from your gnawed-on lips, you stifle the urge to claim and instead allow the friendlier side to move you into the room.

“Sharon?”

Sharon blinks, searching for you with wide eyes still dazed by her book.

“Oh,” She smiles, rising as she sets her books aside.

She curtsies as you stop before her, hands placed gently at your front as you try to stand the way Nat has taught you. Regal. Or as close to it as you can manage. You’re still unconvinced that you can pull this royalty business off.

You know you’re Queen and you make no arguments about it, but you’re fairly certain that Sharon—and other women like her, Nat included—will always look more the part of nobility than you do.

“Your Majesty, good morning.” Sharon greets, rising and matching your pose but clearly more relaxed.

“Good morning. I hope you’re well?” You begin, hoping the pleasantries aren’t unwelcomed.

“I’m very well, my lady. Thank you for asking.” She smiles again, a bit softer.

“I was wondering, why aren’t you with the others in Steve’s office?”

“I, my lady?” Sharon asks, genuinely confused as she presses her hand to her chest. The pale silk orange dress is elegant but fitting of the weather. The dark purple roses that flow upwards into a cluster in the pattern draw the eye to her bust, just as her hand does.

“I was sent for by Steve just now.” You explain.

“I-I’ve been in here all morning. All night even. It might be possible that they sent for me, but no one knows where I am. This has always been a good place to hide.” She confesses and her smile widens.

“Well, why don’t you accompany me? Whatever schemes they have you will no doubt be an asset. Indeed, I don’t know why they’ve sent for me. I’m…I couldn’t possibly be of much help.” You shake your head, relaxing a little more with every word you speak.

“I think it likely that his Majesty wants to keep you apprised of the events in the Kingdom.” Sharon ponders. “After what happened at King Anthony’s castle, he’d be a fool to keep you in the dark.”

You hadn’t though of that. Steve is summoning you to keep you informed? He never has before.

Once again, your mind is dragged back to the day of Thor’s visit and Sam’s urgent scroll.

You must have gone into a daze while your mind ran with thoughts because Sharon clears her throat, pulling you from your own ponderings.

“Your Majesty?” She checks, wary.

“Sorry.” You smile again. “I’m sorry. Will you come?”

Gesturing towards the door you take a tentative step as you await her choice.

“Of course!” She exclaims, rushing to open the door fully for you.

“You don’t have to-”

“Please.” She states simply, and you don’t refuse her.

The two of you walk together, Sharon a half step behind you—as she should be with you as Queen—in surprisingly comfortable silence.

When you reach the wing that you and Steve live in, you clear your throat, walking a little slower with his den visible at the end of the hall.

“I’m glad you decided to stay a little longer with us.” You tell her quietly.

“As am I, your Majesty.” She smiles. “Seeing you run the castle and the introductions with the court and the people…I hope Maggie won’t turn in her grave, but you do this job better than she ever did.”

“Oh?” You’re not exactly surprised by her statement. Steve has often told you this himself, but to hear it come from two people who loved Margaret the most and knew her the best really speaks volumes.

“Maggie was always focused on the world. It’s good to see someone care about just this Kingdom. It wasn’t in ruins or anything when she was in rule, but it has truly prospered under your care. And your attentions to its people force Steve to also consider those closer to home.

“There will always be an evil out there for us to fight. I think he used to forget those that depend on him waiting right here.” Sharon ponders, not really asking any questions just making observations.

“You’re too kind.” You smile. “It has truly been my honor to serve. To help.”

“Serve?” She asks, confused.

“Isn’t that what we do? Steve and I?” You think aloud. “We are here to provide a service. That service is indispensable. We provide stability and structure to the lives of everyone in Broklin. We were placed here to not only rule, but to help and to take care of those who need us. We are called to serve our people in the best ways we are able.

“There can be no service more important to perform in all the world.” You shrug, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

Sharon huffs a small laugh, not in sarcasm, but surprise.

“What?” You stop, turning to look at her with your hands carefully placed at your front. “What have I said?”

“You truly put us all to shame, your Majesty.” She states, looking into your eyes with a sparkle of sincerity. “There are sovereigns that would say the exact opposite. That it is the duty of the people to serve their King and Queen.”

“And it is.” You agree. “We are a carriage wheel, the people and us. In order for us to carry forward, we all must do our parts. It’s why I chose to marry Steve despite never having known him.

“I love him now, but when I agreed to marry him, I had no idea who he was. My father needed me to be dutiful and I was.” You smile. “We serve the people and they serve us in turn. We cannot have one without the other. Kingdoms fall every day to famine, disease, discontent among the people…one cannot expect to take and take without giving something in return.”

“Yes.” Sharon nods, “I see that now. And I’m sure Steve has seen it too. You’re teaching him well.”

You laugh, finding it silly that you could teach Steve anything that he doesn’t already know.

“Come on, before they grow impatient.”

As the two of you approach the door, you spot Grandmother leaning against the wall just outside the door, her hand on her chest and her eyes shut tight as if she’s struggling with a pain of some kind.

“Your Majesty?” Sharon probes as you slow just outside the door.

“Go on in.” You tell her, “I’ll be right in.”

Sharon nods and joins the others while you approach grandmother, a sudden realization fills you with dread.

Grandmother is old. And as much as you’ve grown used to her care, she will not always be with you.

“Grandmother? Are you alright?” You check, easing closer before placing your hand on her back carefully.

She’s lost so much weight recently that her dresses have begun to fit her loose. You’ll have more made for her.

“Shall I send for a doctor?” You ask, ear growing.

“No.” She says, withered voice shaking with a trembling breath.

“What’s the matter?” You wonder, placing reassuring hands on the sides of her arms.

She looks up at you, her eyes boring into your own and you can see it all in the reflection.

She’s terrified. This old woman, fearless in the face of a full on battle, is scared.

“Will you not confide in me?” You fret.

“No.” She says, eyes narrowed as she considers you and her legs grow stronger. “Not until I see it all.”

You’re confused by her words but try not to dwell on them.

“Let me at least get you a glass of water.” You insist.

“I said no, girl. Get back to your duties and leave me be.” She grumbles and pushes around you, muttering something under her breath as she reaches into one of her hidden pockets and pulls from within it a small vial of glittering powder.

You watch her until she’s out of sight, your mind trying to make sense of what little she said, but you can’t. You never could with Grandmother. Why was she out here to begin with? Had she been part of the meeting up until now?

Inside Steve’s den, you find Natasha sitting on one of the plain seats by his desk, Bucky beside her, arms crossed as he stares at a map spread out across Steve’s desk.

Sam is leaning against the desk, one hand along the edge while he points at a cluster of black iron houses near the corner. Sharon, sits in the chair beside Nat giving the impression that Sam must have given the seat up for her when she entered.

Your husband sits in his large chair behind the desk, his elbow on the wooden arm. His right hand covers his mouth while he taps a finger on the other deep in thought.

All of them turn to look at you as you enter. Sam straightens up, Natasha and Sharon both rise to their feet, and Bucky drops his arms. Steve however is transfixed on the map, eyes blazing with storm clouds as his mind fixates on whatever problem has gathered them all into this room.

“No, please…” You tell the others and they relax, taking up their previous positions.

You edge your way over to Steve and almost on instinct he opens his left arm to greet you beside him, turning his chair before he pulls you into his lap without sparing you a glance.

Normally you might protest the open affection in front of your closest friends but as you sit and he wraps his arm around your waist, there’s a needy weight to his embrace that tells you in this moment he must feel you there with him.

You recognize it and it makes you nervous. Fearful of what is troubling him.

“Is it bad?” You ask, looking only at him.

He takes a deep breath and then releases it slowly but doesn’t utter a word.

“Bucky?” You turn to him and wait as he shakes his head then nods to Sam.

“They’re here.” Sam says, leaning over the map again to point at the same cluster of black iron houses. “In this village. Abandoned long ago. All of the structures are crumbling. Decayed. If they’re not overgrown with vegetation, they’re soggy with mold and moss. Thor says there are at least three dozen soldiers left.”

“Hydra?” You ask, surprised you could find the breath in your body to do so.

“We thought that Captain Danvers had killed Rumlow, but it appears that he escaped before she could finish the job. He’s taken what’s left of their numbers here to regroup and rebuild.” Sam explains.

“Then we go after them.” Sharon says passionately.

“Thor says that rushing in would be reckless.” Bucky says. “They have something there. A weapon unlike any he’s ever seen before. It turns men into mindless slaves with a single touch. It shoots out an energy that he has never seen.

“And there’s no way to guarantee that they would still be there, even if we went now.”

“Where is Thor?” You wonder, looking around as if he might appear form the shadows.

“Searching.” Nat says. “For information on the power they possess.”

“We have to do this carefully. I won’t risk open war. Not with these villages here surrounding them on all three sides and the border on their back. They could slip into the Kingdom to the south and start a war between our kingdoms.” Steve shakes his head. “We’ll take a day, come up with a few strategies. We must move but we must do so correctly.”

“I thought they were gone.” You lament, starting at the cluster of houses.

Your tone finally brings Steve’s gaze to you and he wraps his arm around you more tightly.

“And they are.” He assures you. “This is what’s left of them. They’re weakened and if we do this properly, we might finally be able to eradicate the world of Hydra.”

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Bucky says solemnly drawing everyone’s eye.

Steve is frowning, his hands gripping the fabrics of your dress above your thigh as he considers his childhood friend.

“Then we’ll rip out their hearts.” He declares before immediately stifling the rage that filled his chest. “We need to take that weapon away from them and then we can kill them once and for all. We can’t wait for Thor.”

Nat gets to her feet and Bucky drops his arms. “We should at least give him a week to return before we attack. We need to know what we’re facing.”

Steve considers this, “I’ll give him three days. It’s all we can afford. Any more time and we may as well send them the numbers to withstand us.

“You and Nat take the rest of the day for yourselves, enjoy each other and tomorrow begin recruiting amongst the guard. Anyone skilled in deceit. They should also be able to hold their own against either of you.”

Nat nods and heads for the door. Bucky hesitates but quickly follows his wife out, leaving the door open.

“Sam, ride for Malibia and see if Tony can come back and whether Lord and Lady Lang are still present at his castle.” Sam nods, then leaves too.

“Shall I reach out to Fury?” Sharon wonders, pushing herself to the edge of her seat.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “They’re racing after a separate faction of Hydra supporters. We’ll let them do their work. I want you to go to the East tower.”

“Wanda?” She asks, curious but unsurprised. “You want me to train her?”

“I want you to question her.” Steve clarifies. “She and her brother were part of Hydra. They were created by Hydra. If anyone might know what this mystery weapon is, it will be them.”

Sharon rises and rushes out with a curtsy leaving you and Steve alone in his office.

Your eyes dance around the now empty room, stopping on the curtained off corner that had been Margaret’s reading nook.

The jealousy you feel is almost imperceptible. He’s had it sectioned off for so long that you’re certain he did it to either keep you out or shield it from view so that he might move on without being reminded of his first love.

“Are you worried?” He asks, drawing your gaze back down to meet his own.

“Only because I wish this were over.” You shake your head, reaching up to trace the shape of his cheek and then slide your hands into his soft and slightly unwashed golden head of hair. “But it will never be over, will it?”

Steve’s face is serious, pained in a way, but only because he can see your distress. “No.”

His agreement weighs your heart down and you settle into his arms a little sadly.

He wraps you up in them, pulling you so close that you might as well be fused with how he’s got you tucked in against his chest. You shut your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder, tucking it underneath his chin when he adjusts it to rest it against your head.

“Oh, my sweet flower.” He whispers. “I’m sorry that I cannot be normal for you.”

His lament gives you pause, making your heart ache for an entirely different reason.

“Steve…” You push yourself back up, searching for his storm blue eyes which you find full of sorrow. “…I would not want you to be anyone but who you are.”

He considers your words for a few moments while you renew the caress to his head.

“Wouldn’t you prefer it if I were a normal king? No Avengers? No strange enemies with strange abilities?” He wonders. “I know that even my own abilities might be a little troublesome. I know that I can be a little heavy handed.”

“Steve,” You stop him, taking his face in both your hands and turn him to face you. “I would not change one single thing about you. Not your strange addiction to salted pork with that cherry glaze Cook makes. Not the wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh. Not the strength in your body or the smiles that greet me in the morning. Not the love you will always hold for Margaret, despite your declarations to the opposite.”

You drop your voice so that it is low and only for his ears, even though you’re very much alone.

“And most definitely not those heavy hands that pin me to our bed.”

His cheeks flush pink and it makes you so proud to make him blush that you chuckle once.

“I love every inch of you. Yes, I worry but only because I’ve seen you beaten and bloody. I’ve tended your wounds and watched you flinch. I’ve waited at your bedside in fear that you would never wake. I’m afraid that someone will take you from me and I’m not sorry for that. I can’t pretend that this life is not without risk and that very risk might one day take you from me and Maggie. I would wipe the world of evil if I could, but I know that I cannot so, I will worry every day for the rest of my life because I love you.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

Steve sighs heavily, hating your words. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your chest as his hands trace the shape of your back, rubbing it to give you comfort.

“I wish I could give you a life without strife.” He cries, voice muffled against your breast.

“Oh, my darling, there is no woman, no wife or mother in this world that lives without strife. Perhaps mine is a little more elevated with so much hanging in the balance, as Queen and also the wife of the Captain, but I do not regret my choices. I would gladly marry you and endure all of my hardships over and over again if it meant that I could have this moment. Our daughter safe with her Aunt and you with your arms around me.”

Steve smiles at you, sappy and pure.

“I’ll be careful.” He promises.

You throw your head back and laugh, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep from falling off his lap.

“What?” He asks in humored shock. “What’s humorous in my promise?”

“Just swear to me that you will return to me in a somewhat decent state. One which I can nurse you through and I will gladly wait forever for you.” You can’t expect him to make promises he can’t keep and for him to be careful…well, you know better.

“I love you.” He tells you, voice deep and low.

His sudden declaration sends massive butterflies into the pit of your belly and your heart does a dance. It robs you of breath and you lick your lips and swallow the lump forming.

“Even after seeing me as I gave birth to Maggie? You love me after that?” You wonder, knowing the sight it must have been.

“No woman on this world is stronger or more capable than you, my petal. I could not have done what you did to bring her into being and I will worship at your feet for sacrificing so much to bring her to us.” He gushes, genuine and intense in his expression despite the lovesick flow of his words.

How long will this last? How long will he really love you in this way?

You know it all fades eventually. You’re not a fool. You’ll be glad if you and Steve love each other half as well as Tony and Pepper when you two have been married as long.

He pulls you down to kiss him and you give him what he needs and what you so desperately want. You think back to every time he pulled away from you, despising you for touching him just after you were married. You remember the way he forced himself to consummate, the way he’d drowned out your cries for relief because he wanted to get it over with.

He wanted to be done with you and never could you have imagined that he would hold you so dearly. His lips wrapping themselves along yours, tongue softly probing for entry which you swiftly allow.

“Do you have to get back to work?” You whisper between a kiss, lips wet, eyes hazy with desire.

Steve pulls back to see your eyes and he shakes his head, leaning back in. He runs his tongue along your open mouth as he pushes you up onto your feet only to reach down and hike up the front of your skirt.

He pulls you towards him, hands hooking behind your thighs as he guides you back onto his lap but leaves you standing over him.

His hands disappear underneath the folds of your dress, but you can hear the swish of his pants as he braces himself on the arms of his chair and pushes his trousers down a bit.

His hands caress the length of your leg, from behind your knee to thigh before finding your hip. With one hand he leads you and with the other he lines himself up, the heat of his cock pressing against the soft wet folds of your cunt.

You shiver.

“Tell me you love me.” He begs, needy.

“I love you.” You answer, a breathy whisper as he impales you slowly.

“My sweet…” He groans, yanking you down to kiss him in a fevered passion that you hope he will never forget.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I need to go check on Grandmother.” Your eyes are fixated on the shielded corner of Steve’s den.

You’re not really looking at it, but it’s in your line of sight.

Steve groans, tracing the skin of your bum where you sit, still resting on his lap. Your head is on his chest, your body still wrapped around his. Still full of him though he’s spent after three rounds. You will both be sleeping soundly tonight, so long as Maggie will allow you to do so.

It’s not the custom for you to watch her at night but you insisted and as Queen no one will argue. Especially when Steve is so eager to support you in building a new way of life in the castle.

“She’s ill.” You reason with him, “I found her outside your door nearly fainted. With her age, I’d hate for us to be careless with her heath.”

“Shall I send for a doctor?” Steve asks, hands stopped on your bottom.

“Not yet. I’ll check with her first and then send for someone if needed.” You sit up and make to rise.

Steve’s hands suddenly grasp your bottom tight, fingers digging into your flesh. There’s a worry in it and it makes you look at him in search of what it might be.

“Do you want to see?” He asks you.

You’re at a loss as to what he means, and it must show on your face.

“Behind the curtains.” He explains, then gestures at the spot with a nod. “You were curious once before.”

You look at the spot and try not to feel too hurt or sound wounded by the memory of that day.

“And you were angry with me for it.” You remember.

“No.” Steve says, voice stern and certain. “No, my love, I-I was angry but not because you tried to look at her spot. I was angry because I thought you’d read my book.”

He sits up a bit more, arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in place as he reaches with the other one to grab the red book with the large A embossed on the cover.

“This book holds every account of every mission that we have ever run as a team. It holds details of enemies and their abilities or their motives. It has everything.

“When I walked in that day, I saw you with your hand on it. I saw you reading it.” Steve hurries to explain. “My heart dropped when I realized what it was you were looking at and I lashed out. It wasn’t right of me to do so, but the last thing that I wanted was to have you involved in that world.”

“Oh.” You realize, staring at the book in his hand. “I thought-”

“I will not lie and say that it didn’t have a little to do with Margaret and her space in my den, but mostly I-I was already in love with you and the thought of you and all your purity and goodness, all of your vulnerability exposed to the violence of the world I lived in filled me with a fear that I have never known.

“Even now, only the thought of our little Maggie in danger compares to the terror that fills me when I think of you at the mercy of Pierce’s sword.” He brings his hands up, one on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck. “I would have gone mad if he’d taken you both from me.”

You can’t blame him for the fear. You’d felt it too. Still feel it when you imagine your little one, protected only with your body and you with no way to fight Pierce off.

“We owe Sharon so much.” You tell Steve and he nods.

“I can never repay her for being there when I could not be.” Steve agrees.

Several moments pass in silence as the two of you reflect on what could have been and relish in each other’s presence, bodies pressed so close still, in gratitude for the reality of the outcome.

“So?” Steve continues. “Would you like to see?”

He tosses the red book back onto his desk and carefully helps you up. He pulls your skirts down, helping you fluff them out as they should be before tying the string of his trousers and adjusting his shirt.

With the soft hiss of skin on skin, he takes your hand and pulls you around his desk towards the corner.

He releases your hand and reaches up to unhook the heavy curtains.

As they fall away, it reveals not a reading corner but a remade space with a new seat by the window. A bench with a plush pink cushion, darker pink peonies in the fabric. The dark woods compliment the lighter colors. Around that seat is indeed a bookcase but it’s much smaller than the ones that surrounded it before.

There is also a spinning wheel, a basket of what you can only assume is everything you will need to make your own yarn. There are several small round containers that you recognize as sewing kits. In one sitting open you can see a pair of iron scissors, thick and heavy. A leather pouch, spools of already woven yarn, and a collection of cutting knives for leather should you decide to work with it. There’s a small table against the other wall where a large bookcase had sat before, piled with patches of fabrics for embroidery and a few samples of tapestry fabrics that excite you as you’ve never worked on a tapestry before.

Near that table along the floor is a plump yellow cushion. The design is also feminine but only just with silver and baby blue butterflies. A small pillow, a doll made of rags and another out of wood tells you that this spot is for your little one.

Steve offers his hand once more and you take it, in awe of his reveal.

“I know you like to read so I had some books brought for you, but I wanted this space to be yours and yours alone. Well, until three months ago when Maggie was born, and I had that small space added for her. Do you…like it?” He wonders, watching you as you let his hand go and move to trace the smooth lines of your spinning wheel.

“Like it?” You gasp. “Oh, Steve…”

You burst into tear and cover your face. Why must you be so emotional right now? You want to show him how happy you are!

“Oh, no. Please do not cry.” He pleads, moving to wipe your tears away.

“I c-can’t help it. I’m sorry.” You weep. “I’m just so-so happy.”

Steve laughs, an easy chuckle as he pulls you against his chest.

“Thank goodness.” He kisses your head and holds you until you stop crying.

The walk to grandmother’s is a happy one. You’re excited to spend time in Steve’s den. Not only because he’s given you so many new tools to really make some high-quality products but because this means that you’re officially part of his life. He wants you near him when he works. He’s opened his space up for you and is welcoming you so openly.

After so long spent wondering whether you belonged here at all, you finally have your place. Truly this is where you belong.

A keening cry pierces the cool spring air. The shade of the trees that surround Grandmother’s cottage suddenly seem looming with the clear sound of an animal crying out in protest is cut abruptly cut off.

You stop walking and wait a moment to see if you might hear anything else but when you don’t, you race towards the cottage, in fear for Grandmother’s life.

As you shove the door open, you expect to find the old woman clutching her heart again, on her knees in a heap on the floor.

What you do not expect to find is the old woman in the middle of a large circle drawn onto her floor.

Even now, a strange purple light fades from the circle leaving behind the sight of Grandmother on her knees, a slaughtered mess of black fur in front of her and her hands bathed in blood as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Grandmother?!” You race towards her, stepping into the circle as the light fades completely.

She turns towards you, watching you with pure white eyes. Although she looks at you, her eyes see beyond you. They watch something you cannot see, and you begin to realize that everything that everyone said about Grandmother being a witch had been completely correct and not at all because of her old age and her hermit behavior.

“Grandmother are you alright?” You ask in a panic, realizing her true self while trying to make sense of it with the old woman who just delivered your daughter.

When she speaks, she breathes inward. Her voice escapes as a gasp.

Breathing in. “The worst is yet to come.”

Breathing out. “There will be a power much darker than this world has ever seen.”

Breathing in. “Six are sought by the one who shall wield them. Half will die.”

Breathing out. “Already he makes his move.”

“Grandmother?”

With her eyes still bone white, she seems to finally see you and grasps the top of your arms with such strength that you’re sure her fingers will leave a bruise.

“He will fight harder than he has ever fought before. He will protect them all with his life.”

He? Steve?

“And he will fall.”

#steve x reader #king!steve x reader #pseudo princess #medieval fantasy au #royalty au #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #avengers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #steve x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #captain america x reader fanfiction #pseudo princess pt34

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit.

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad.

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend.

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life.

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business.

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge.

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him.

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man.

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance.

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet.

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary.

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned.

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter.

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine.

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on, he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago.

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him.

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too.

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it.

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was.

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #professor au #professor!javi #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Text

Lockscreens (epilogue)

tw: insecurities, implicit sex, nostalgia, bittersweet memories

Word count: 5.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | prev

epilogue

“Now, please clear the floor for the First Dance.”

[When the visions around you, bring tears to your eyes]

“Shall we?” He grins, bowing slightly as he extends a hand to (Name).

She giggles, placing her hand in his. “We shall.”

[And all that surrounds you are secret and lies]

The lights dimmed as they made their way to the center of the dance-floor.

“We finally got our official dance, huh?” He joked, pulling gently on a loose curl.

[I’ll be your strength. I’ll give you hope. Keeping your faith when it’s gone. The one you should call, Was standing there all along]

Kuroo opened the door to the house, having been invited over by the pregnant woman and bearing a gift of her favorite pastry. It was week fifteen of her pregnancy. “(Name)?” He called, stepping into the living room after following the sound of sniffles.

“K-Kuroo! You’re already here!” She frantically wiped at her face in an attempt to hide her blotchy face.

“What’s the matter?” He put the box onto the table, throwing his keys down as he sits besides her. “Why are you crying?” Kuroo gently grasps her hands, pulling it away to reveal the residual tears on her face.

“It’s silly,” she sniffled.

“You say that every time, and I tell you every time, if it bothers you, then it bothers me. So tell me, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “It’s just Bokuto.”

“What about him?”

“I think he’s gone for good, Kuroo. I don’t think he’s gonna come back for me.”

Kuroo frowned, glancing down at the phone that she had clutched in one hand. The screen showed a picture of Bokuto and (Name) from high-school. “He’s an idiot if he leaves you behind,” Kuroo says softly, both hands cupping her face to wipe the tears away. “I promise you, I’ll always be here, ok? No matter what happens.

(Name) nods, giving him a watery smile. “You’re the best, Kuroo. When will you find someone to settle down with?” She giggled, hiccuping slightly.

Kuroo’s face softens as he brings her close, holding her against his chest. “Hopefully soon, sweetheart. But for now, you’re stuck with me, okay?”

She snuggled in closer, her eyes fluttering shut as her breathing deepened. Kuroo lets out a breathy chuckle.

‘She’s already here, in my arms. If only she saw me the way I saw her though.’

[And I will take you in my arms. And hold you right where you belong. ‘Til the day my life is through, This I promise you]

They spun slowly to the sound of a soft love ballad. It had been a long day. (Name) had just returned to work, bringing Hikori with her to the office. Kuroo himself had just returned from a business trip that (Name) had forced himself on. After putting their son to bed, they found themselves in each other’s embrace with a sigh of relief.

“Y’know, I think we were supposed to save this for the wedding.” (Name) teased, looking up into hazel eyes.

Kuroo chuckled, holding her close to him. “Well, we did have a wedding.” His nose brushed against her in a tantalisingly close kiss.

“Mmhm, you’re right,” (Name) agreed, “though we didn’t get a chance to dance during it.”

“How could we?” Kuroo teased. “With your swollen pregnant feet and our families and friends ambushing us left and right. Hardly seems like we had a chance, my dear.”

(Name) rested her head on his shoulder, humming slightly. “I love you, Tetsu.”

“I love you too, (Name). I love you so much.”

[I’ve loved you forever. In lifetimes before.]

“It only took us four years or so,” (Name) replied, (e/c) orbs gazing into hazel.

“Eh, but those were some of the best years of my life.” Kuroo shrugged.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I finally had you in my arms.”

Her cheeks got hot, “you’re such a dork,” she mumbled, burying it into his shoulder. His chest shook with the rumble of his laughter.

[And I promise you never, Will you hurt anymore]

“You want me to do what?”

“Can you help me ask (Name) out?”

Kuroo examined Bokuto’s face carefully, forcing a smile onto his expression. “You want to ask my best friend out?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto nodded aggressively. “You know her the best, do you think you could help?”

Kuroo swallowed the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t mentioned his own feelings to (Name) yet, and here he was, already on the verge of losing her. “What was your plan?”

[I give you my word. I give you my heart.]

After listening to Bokuto’s plan, Kuroo reluctantly agreed. After all, he wanted to see her happy and if she thought she could find that with Bokuto, then Kuroo would support her every step of the way. Or, that’s what he kept telling himself as he watched Bokuto sweep her away to the dance-floor.

Their eyes met over Bokuto’s shoulder as (Name) faced him. Kuroo grinned at her, sending her a wink. ‘Well?’ Kuroo asked silently, his eyebrows raising slightly. ‘Do you want him?’ Bokuto pulled away, capturing her attention once more. Kuroo’s silent question was answered when (Name) leaned forward, brushing her lips against Bokuto’s cheek.

Once again, hazel eyes met (e/c). Kuroo forced himself to smile, giving her a thumbs-up. His heart shattered. Of course she would say yes. There was not an evil bone in her body. She’s never said that she wasn’t interested in Bokuto. Kuroo’s eyes flickered between her and her new boyfriend, making a ‘shoo-ing’ gesture. No matter what happens, he’ll still be here for her.

[This is a battle we’ve won. And with this vow, Forever has now begun]

“Tetsu...I definitely do not still love Bokuto.”

“Are you sure?” (Name)’s heart stuttered at the veiled pain in his voice. “How do you know?”

Tears began welling up in her eyes. “How could you ask me that?” She whispered. Kuroo shrugged, an arm covering his own eyes. “Tetsu, look at me.” He shook his head, squeezing his own eyes shut as he swallowed thickly. “Tetsu, please.”

Kuroo swallowed once more, lifting his arm off of his eyes to look at (Name) through blurry eyes. “Yes?”

“Don’t be like that.” Her lip jutted out into a soft frown. She rolls over, hovering over him. “Tetsurou Kuroo.” Kuroo flinched as she pronounced his full name. “Yes, I dated Bokuto before we started dating. Yes, Hikori is his son. But do you know what?”

“What?”

Tears escaped down her cheeks as she looked at her husband. “I have always been in love with you. You - you stupid, rooster-headed, ex-volleyball captain, chemist nerd, you. You were always my go-to, my day one.” One of her hands cupped her face. “You’re the reason why I know what love feels like,” she mumbles under her breath, eyes searching his. “And I wouldn’t throw that away for anything. I am sorry it took me so long to realize this.”

[Just close your eyes, each loving day. And know this feeling won’t go away]

“I don’t know how you do it.”

She hummed, “do what love?”

They slowly spin under the lights that shone brightly only for them.

“Look more and more beautiful every day.” He brings her hand to his lips, pressing a dainty kiss onto her knuckles.

She chuckles. “The only reason I look beautiful is because I have you to love and care for me, Tetsu.”

[‘Til the day my life is through, This I promise you. This I promise you]

The sound of soft snores filled the room as Kuroo sat in his chair, rocking back and forth. He glanced over at his wife, who was sprawled out on the bed. Kuroo stifled a chuckle. She’d been exhausted the past few days, waking up at all hours in order to take care of their son. Kuroo had decided to use part of his paternity leave in order to come home and support (Name) better. He hummed a soft lullaby as he looked back at the bundle in his arms. Hikori was sound asleep, soft breaths causing his small chest to rise and fall. “You truly bring us an abundance of joy,” Kuroo whispered, placing a dainty kiss onto Hikori’s forehead. His other hand reached out, settling onto (Name)’s extended hand. She made a soft noise, her fingers gently grabbing onto Kuroo’s longer ones. His eyes settled softly on his wife. “I’ll always take care of you.” His grip tightened on Hikori. “Both of you.”

[Over and over I thought. When I hear you call]

Warmth spread through his body as he looked down at his angelic wife. “Y’know, I still can’t believe this has happened,” Kuroo admitted. “These past four or so years have honestly felt like a dream.

“Is that so?” (Name) hummed. “So you used to dream about us ending up together, roosterhead?”

“Oh only every day,” Kuroo replied, nodding solemnly. They both chuckled.

“I’m glad it was you.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad that it was you who found my heart, Tetsu.” (Name) explained, glassy eyes peering into his hazel eyes. His heart lurched as he swallowed his own tears. “And that you were patient enough to wait for me.”

[WIthout you in my life, baby. I just wouldn’t be living at all]

“Is that it?” Kenma asked, fixing Kuroo with a hard stare. “After all these years, you’re not even going to try?”

Kuroo looked up at his best friend with an exasperated look. “What do you mean, Kenma? What else could I do?”

“You could confess!” Kuroo flinched, opening his mouth to respond only to get cut off again. “You’ve been in love with (Name) for so many years now, and you’re just going to let that owl-head steal her away from you?”

“Yes I will! If that’s what she wants and what will make her happier, then I will.”

“How do you know what she wants? You never even gave her a chance to know her options.”

Kuroo shook his head. “I don’t want to put her in a weird spot or make her uncomfortable.”

“So you’d rather lose her?”

“I’d rather be in her life as her best friend than to put our friendship at risk.”

“Do you really think (Name) would throw you out if she rejects you?” Kenma’s expression softened slightly. “We both know that would never happen.”

Kuroo gave Kenma a pained expression, words strangling him as he forced them out. “I love her. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving her Kenma. But her happiness will always come first for me.”

[And I will take you in my arms, and hold you right where you belong.]

“I love you (Name). Have for a really, really long time,” Kuroo chuckled. “I’m just glad that you could find it in your heart to love me back.” His grip tightened on her hip, pulling her closer.

They spun slowly. The golden light sparkled off of the jewelry she wore. “It was always there,” she admitted finally, squeezing his arm. “I always knew that I loved you. I just never anticipated it to be like this.”

[Til the day my life is through, This I promise you. Just close your eyes, each loving day. And know this feeling won’t go away.]

“Happy one year anniversary baby.” Kuroo whispered against her lips as he cupped her cheeks.

“I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” (Name) smiled, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of the cool metal ring on Kuroo’s hand. She raised her hands, slotting her fingers with his.

“Thank god Hiki’s with Aya,” he grinned.

“And why’s that?” (Name) teased, pulling back. “Tired of having to share me?”

Kuroo scooped her up in her arms, causing her to squeal. “Absolutely,” he replied. “I’ve been waiting to have you to myself all these years. Excuse me for not wanting to share you with our son.” He tosses her onto the bed, climbing on top of her with a cheeky smirk, peppering kisses all over her face. “God I love you so much.”

“You’re such a cheeseball, roosterhead,” (Name) chided as her eyes sparkled with amusement. She rolled him over, pinning his hands above his head as she started to decorate him with her own kisses.

“Yes, but I’m your cheeseball~!”

“Apparently so.”

“For now and always,” Kuroo teased, hazel eyes sparkling with affection.

“Maybe just for now,” she winked. He flipped them once more, eyes glinting with mischief now.

“I guess I’ll just have to re-convince you on the ‘forever’ part,” he purred. She squealed as he pounced.

[Every word I say is true, This I promise you]

“I already said it during our vows all those years ago,” Kuroo began, pulling back to look (Name) directly in the eyes. “I promise that no matter what happens, I will remain by your side. I will take care of you, to catch you when you stumble, and share each and every day with you.” He kissed her knuckles before holding that hand close to his chest. “I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“As long as that’s for now and forever, that works out for me.” (Name)’s eyes fluttered shut, pressing her forehead against Kuroo’s.

“You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, love,” Kuroo whispered to her.

****

As the final few notes of the song plays, Kuroo gently pulls back, tilting her chin up and capturing her lips with his. They come apart, Kuroo whispering something against her lips before they kiss again. Cheers and coos fill the air. The bridesmaids had tears streaming down their faces as they watched their best friend find her happy ending. The groomsmen had red faces, some even had redness around their eyes as they hid their own tears. The mothers of the happy couple were dabbing their cheeks with handkerchiefs, blowing their noses noisily. The fathers drank flutes of champagne as they toasted to the couples’ happiness.

Kuroo and (Name) stepped apart, her cheeks flushed red. They went back to the head table, rejoining their bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was approaching the table.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his eyes. “May I have this dance?”

She looked up to him, offering him a soft smile as she placed her hand in his. “Of course.” They both glanced at Kuroo, who gave a gentle smile to her and nodded in Bokuto’s direction. With Kuroo’s permission, Bokuto escorts her to the dance-floor, making his way to the center of the floor. By now, other couples were also dancing with their partners. In the corner of his eye, Bokuto spots Hikori dancing with Aiko.

[You’re in my arms and all the world is calm]

As they stepped under the lights, the world faded. Her arms snaked around his neck, fingers linking as his hands found purchase on her hips.

[The music playing on for only two. So close together, and when I’m with you, so close to feeling alive]

“You look beautiful.” He murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Golden pools bathed her in an ethereal light. Her cheeks glowed as her eyes sparkled. She looked like an angel stepping out in her white dress. (Name) was absolutely radiating.

“Thank you Kou,” she smiled. His heart ached at the familiar sight. Just for this moment, he knew that her smile was just for him. Just like before. His grip tightened on her, pulling her closer.

[A life goes by, Romantic dreams must die. So I bid my goodbye, and never knew.]

“Hello?”

“Hey baby! I missed you!”

(Name) giggled over the phone. “I’ve missed you too, Kou. How’s training?”

Bokuto collapsed onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. “Pretty rough,” he sighed, rolling his shoulder. His muscles ached from the rigorous training. “The guys are all so good, it’s been really hard to keep up.”

He could hear the shuffling of sheets on her end. “You’ve got this, Kou. I believe in you.” Bokuto’s eyes fluttered shut. “They wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t think you would do well.”

Bokuto hummed. “How are things with you?”

“Good, I’m almost finished with my classes.” He could just hear the smile in her voice now. His heart skipped a beat. “Soon, I’ll officially be a recreational therapist,” she declared happily.

Bokuto forced a smile on his face. “I’m so happy for you baby.” He was happy. He was happy for her. But he hated how he was doing. How difficult it was for him to do well during his conditioning. How could he make (Name) proud if he couldn’t even succeed at this opportunity she gave him? “I’m actually really tired, I’m going to sleep now.”

“Oh, now?” The disappointed tone in her voice almost convinced him to stay on call longer, but he shook his head.

“Yeah, gotta be up early tomorrow for more conditioning.”

“Right, you must be exhausted. Get some rest, Kou. Good night, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Bokuto stared at his phone a moment longer as the call ended before he threw it onto his nightstand. Tomorrow, he’d be better. Tomorrow, he’d make her proud. He wouldn’t call her until he could prove to himself and to her that leaving her over three hundred miles away was worth it. His pride wouldn’t allow him otherwise.

Unfortunately, that would be the last time he heard her voice on the phone.

[So close, was waiting. Waiting here with you, and now, forever, I know.]

They slowly spun in a circle. She blinked up at him with soft doe eyes through eyelashes lengthened with mascara and falsies. “Thank you for coming. I know it must have been difficult.”

Bokuto shrugged, squeezing her tighter. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?” His throat tightened.

She let out a breathy laugh. “You did.” (Name) leaned forward, putting her head on his shoulder as she let Bokuto rock their bodies side to side.

[All that I wanted, to hold you so close]

“(Nickname)!” The ringing of his voice was the only warning that she got before a muscular body slammed into her. She let out a wheeze as her soul left her body.

“Kou!” She choked, slapping his back. Bokuto’s booming laugh filled the gym as he spun her round and round until they both felt dizzy. He placed her feet gently back onto the ground, arms still wound tightly around her. “Ooh, don’t do that, I feel sick,” she groaned, swaying in his arms. (Name) squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing as she attempted to recalibrate. Getting injured on their first day of training camp, year two, would not be fun.

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you!” Of course, Bokuto immediately collapsed onto the floor due to his own dizziness, pinning her underneath him.

“Someone’s excited to see me,” she teased, patting his shoulder affectionately. “Now get off me, ya lug. You’re squishing me!”

Bokuto rolled over, letting her lay on his chest as he nuzzled her hair. “Is this better?”

Heat surged up to her cheeks as she quickly averted her eyes. “S-sure.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Kou.”

[So close to reaching that famous happy end. Almost believing this one’s not pretend.]

“One of these days, I’m going to marry you, y’know?"

“Is that so?”

One of his hands brushed through her hair as the other played with her fingers as they laid in their shared bed. It was a few days after they’d moved in together. “Of course, you’re the love of my life, (Nickname). I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

She giggled, slotting her fingers in his and giving them a squeeze. “I love you, Kou.”

“I love you too. You’re it for me. You’re the endgame for me.” (Name) tilted her face up. Bokuto leaned down, capturing her lips with us. Their lips slotted together so perfectly. As he pulled back, he couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his features. “Yep, definitely my endgame.”

[And now you’re beside me, and look how far we’ve come.]

“And then, Kuroo ended up tripping and spilling his tea all over me.” (Name) giggled, brushing her hair back with her free hand. She was swinging their intertwined hands as they walked home from their date. It was the summer before their first year of college.

Bokuto planted his feet, chewing on his lip as he steeled his nerves. “(Name)?” At the sound of his voice, she paused, turning to look at her boyfriend.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Her eyes widened. “You what?”

“I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I met you our first year of high-school.” Shock faded from her features only to be overcome with joy. “Oh no, why are you crying?” Bokuto panicked, reaching for her face.

His hand caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears. “I love you too, dummy.”

[So far we are, so close]

They spun slightly, swaying to the music. Bokuto pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in her sweet perfume.

His eyes fluttered shut, pretending that this was all just for them.

That the golden band on her finger had been given by him.

That the spotlight shone brightly for what was once their love.

Where his son was raised by him instead of a stranger.

When she was his, and he was hers.

[Oh how could I face the faceless days, if I should lose you now]

A hand tapped on his shoulder, bringing him out of his stupor. “Mind if I cut in?”

Bokuto offered Kuroo a resigned, sorrowful smile, nodding as he stepped back. “Of course.” Bokuto gave (Name) one last smile. “Thank you.”

Both husband and wife gave him a smile.

His heart clenched.

[We’re so close to reaching that famous happy end. Almost believing this one’s not pretend.]

“Thank you, Kou.” Kuroo squeezed his shoulder, before taking his place. Kuroo’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her impossibly close to him. She giggled, placing her head on his shoulder as Kuroo spun his wife away from Bokuto.

[Let’s go on dreaming for we know we are so close]

Feet pounded towards him as a small shape pounced on Bokuto. “Kou-san!” Bokuto turned, opening up his arms as Hikori jumped into his arms. “You and Mama looked so nice together!”

[So close, and still so far]

Bokuto glanced back at the married couple, Say You Won’t Let Go playing as they stayed for another dance. Away from their well-wishers off in a world of their own. A wistful look filled his expression.

“Whoa, careful babe!” Bokuto chuckled, a hand on (Name)’s waist. She giggled, throwing her arms around his neck.

“I wanna dance s’more!” She slurred, the smell of beer fanning across his face.

“You can barely stand,” Kuroo piped up beside her with Bokuto nodded firmly, their own cheeks tinted red from the alcohol.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home and we can dance there, ok?” He promised, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. Bokuto looks up at Kuroo. “We’ll see you later, okay?”

(Name) stumbled up, making grabby hands at Kuroo. “Bye Tetsu~! I’ll miss youuuu,” she said. Kuroo patted her cheek, a soft expression on his face.

“Take care of her, Bo.” Kuroo clapped Bokuto on the back before turning around and walking down the street towards his own apartment.

As they got into the taxi on their way home, (Name) was crawling all over Bokuto’s body. “Baby, don’t do that,” he chided, amused.

“I wanna cuddle,” she pouted.

He scooped her into his lap, nuzzling into her neck. “I love you so much baby.”

“I love you too, Kou,” she mumbled, burying her face into his. “S’much. Wanna be with you forever.”

“Always, baby.”

Bokuto shook his head slightly, chuckling as he patted Hikori’s head affectionately. “You and Aiko did too, ‘Kori.”

“Do you think?” Hikori blinked up with matching golden pools.

“Definitely!” Bokuto smiled. “You should go give her something. Maybe go get her a cupcake?”

“That’s a great idea! Thank you, Kou-san.” With that, Hikori leapt out of Bokuto’s arms and went sprinting towards the dessert aisle.

Bokuto sighed, making his way back to his table. Akaashi sat there, sipping from a glass of wine beside Kenma who was avoiding the rowdiness of the Head Table. Kenma glanced up at Bokuto as he collapsed into his seat. “I think I’ll go get some dessert.” Kenma stood, nodding at Bokuto before making his way to the dessert table, intercepting Hikori who had a plate towered high with all types of sweets.

Kenma took the plate from the boy, pointing at his parents and whispering something to Hikori. Hikori nodded seriously, before running to Kuroo and (Name). Kuroo laughed, scooping Hikori up. Kuroo placed Hikori onto her shoulders. (Name) held onto Hikori’s thigh, the other holding Kuroo’s as they spun together, laughing joyfully.

“How are you feeling, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto shrugged, pouring himself a new glass of wine and downing it. “I’m...happy for them.”

“But?”

He let out a soft chuckle, middle finger tracing the mouth of his glass. “But I really wish I hadn’t let her go.”

Akaashi squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto shrugged off Akaashi’s hand. “S’okay. It’s my own fault anyways.” They turned, watching as Kuroo dipped her slightly. She squealed as she fell into a fit of giggles, before Kuroo pulled her back up and pressed his lips to hers. Hikori was back in his father’s arms, making a face at his parents’ display of affection.

Bokuto turned back to his glass, filling it once more.

The microphone sounded out as the last song faded out. “May I have everyone’s attention?” Kuroo stood in the very front of the hall, (Name) standing beside him, Hikori in her arms.

“First of all, thank you to everyone for coming. It means a lot to (Name) and me that you were here for our wedding day, especially after four years of waiting for our special little man to join us.” The crowd laughed. Kuroo turned to face his wife, squeezing her hip. “Since you’re already all gathered here today, we do have a special announcement.” Kuroo looked down at his wife, hazel eyes sparkling with love and deep affection before he grinned at his son, pinching Hikori’s cheek. “Hikori, guess what?”

“What, Dad?”

“You’re going to be a big brother.”

The crowd erupted into noise. Some of the males hooted and hollered at Kuroo. Ladies gasped and shrieked in delight. (Name)’s mother burst into more tears. But to be fair, she hadn’t really stopped. She’d been crying since the vow renewal. And then was overwhelmed with another fit of tears during their first dance.

But for Bokuto?

The world froze. The noise faded into black as he stared blankly at the couple. He watched with unfocused eyes as she was surrounded by her bridesmaids. Her maid of honor, Aya, was tugging on (Name)’s arm and mutedly shouting over the empty noise. Kuroo’s groomsmen surrounded him, Yaku slapping a hand onto his back. Bokuto snapped out of his reverie as a small body collided with his.

“Kou-san!” Bokuto’s head jerked down, staring as Hikori tugged on his arm. “Did ya hear that?” Bokuto forced his face into a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Akaashi sent him a sympathetic look, excusing himself.

“Yeah! You’re gonna be a big bro, little man.”

“Papa said I’m going to have a sister!” Hikori’s eyes sparkled with joy, beaming. Absentmindedly, Bokuto wondered if that’s what he looked like when he was happy. Hikori hesitated for a moment. “Do you think she’ll like me?”

His question snapped Bokuto out of his self-pity spiral. “Aw, ‘Kori, she’s gonna love ya!” Bokuto nuzzled his nose into Hikori’s cheeks, blowing air onto them.

Hikori squealed, squirming in his arms. “Stop it, Kou-san!”

Bokuto pulled back, beaming. “C’mon, let’s go get some more ice cream, okay?”

“Yes!” Hikori bounced up, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Bokuto finished another glass of wine, noticing Akaashi’s wince in the corner of his eyes before Bokuto went with Hikori to the dessert table.

Bokuto scanned the banquet hall. It was beautiful, to say the least. Kuroo and (Name) were well-established in their careers, and were able to go all-out on this dream-like wedding. Fairy lights hung in tulle curtains on all of the walls, and mini-chandeliers hung over each table. Blush pink, gold, and white flowers made the centerpieces with more fairy lights in the vases. Those were surrounded by candles floating in water-filled shot-glasses. Small plastic boxes with succulents propped on top sat at each seat, a tag with the seat’s name sticking out of it and macarons enclosed in the box.

Just like her first wedding, the room felt almost like a volleyball reunion. At one table, Iwaizumi was with Oikawa and the former Karasuno members. Bokuto and Hikori walked by as Iwaizumi was smacking the Argentinian player on the head for some ridiculous comment or another.

Nekoma’s alumni had their own table. Lev was sitting there arguing with Shibayama and Inuoka. Bokuto and Akaashi had been seated together, joined by Bokuto’s teammates from the MSBY Black Jackals. Konoha had been invited as a groomsmen since his wife was the Maid of Honor. At the moment, Bokuto’s team-mates were scattered throughout the hall. Some were mingling with other members of the Japan national team. He could vaguely spot Atsumu flirting with one of the bridesmaids at their table.

“Alright little man, what type of ice cream do you want?” They stopped in front of the ice cream stand that was near the dessert table. Bokuto scooped Hikori up into his arms so that he could peer down into the ice-box.

“Can I get chocolate and strawberry?”

“Of course!” Bokuto relayed the ice cream order to the lady working the stand, who smiled at Bokuto and Hikori.

“Your son is very cute,” she complimented, rolling her sleeves up to scoop up the chocolate.

Bokuto gave her a forced smile, the bitter taste of envy surging forward. “He’s not mine. He’s the bride’s.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She bowed, handing Bokuto the cup of ice cream, who handed it to Hikori. “Feel free to grab as many toppings as you’d like, ok?” She smiled, gesturing to the table beside her stand.

“Thank you!” Hikori bowed to her, before scrambling over to the tables.

Bokuto grinned at his son, before thanking the nice ice cream lady and following him. “Oh, Kou!” He turned, his smile freezing on his face.

“He-hey, (Name)!”

She smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you so much for watching Hiki.” Bokuto’s eyes closed as he enjoyed her warmth, letting it seep through his body and settle into the gaping black hole of his heart. “I can’t imagine how much it means to you, and I’m so thankful that you’re in his life,” she whispered into his ear before pulling away. As soon as she did, he couldn’t help but lean in towards her, chasing the remnants of the sun like a child chasing after the sunset.

“I’m just glad that I could be a part of his life.” Bokuto forced his lips up higher. They stood side by side, watching together as their son came back with a tower of toppings on his ice cream. “Whoa, be careful or you’ll make a mess ‘Kori.”

“I will, Kou-san!”

“Let’s sit down so you don’t spill everywhere,” (Name) suggested, gesturing to the nearest empty table. Bokuto pulled out her chair for her, waiting for her to sit down before taking his seat. Hikori sat in between them.

“Shouldn’t you be greeting people and accepting congratulations?”

She snorted, kicking her heels off with a sigh of relief. “Kuroo can do that. My feet are aching.” (Name) sent him a bemused smile. “Guess that’s just what happens when you’re wearing heels all day while pregnant.”

Bokuto choked on air, before he focused his attention on Hikori who was eagerly scooping ice cream into his mouth. Bokuto grabbed one of the napkins, wiping the ice cream marks off of Hikori’s cheeks. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks, Kou.”

Bokuto scanned the room, anxious for some words to fill the silence. “You look beautiful,” he blurted.

(Name) giggled, fiddling with her earring. “You said that already, Kou.”

“Mama does look beautiful, doesn’t she?” Hikori piped up, gazing with childlike awe between his mother and father. “Like an angel!”

“You’re right, ‘Kori. Your mother does look like an angel.” Bokuto ruffled Hikori’s hair.

(Name) sighed as she caught Kuroo gesturing for her to join him. He was currently being swarmed by her family members. “Alright you flirts, don’t make a mess okay? I need to go save my husband.” With a final wave, (Name) picked up her heels with her fingertips and sauntered over to Kuroo.

****

As (Name) and Kuroo said goodbye to their guests, they handed out small burlap bags to all the adults. Bokuto chuckled at them. “Hangover Kit” was emblazoned on the bags, joined with the Red Cross logo. Fitting for someone in the medical industry. Hikori and Aiko were handing out small bags of candies and toys to all the kids who were exiting, carefully supervised by Konoha. Aya was supervising the clean-up of the hall.

“Be good for Kou-san when we’re gone, okay, Hiki?”

“Yes, Mama!” Hikori kicked at the ground, pouting slightly. “Can’t I come?”

“Next time, Hiki, ok?” Kuroo squatted down, extending a hand to Hikori. “I promise you, we’ll take you on a special trip just us three before your sister comes, ok?”

Hikori linked his pinky with his father, nodding aggressively. “Ok!” Kuroo opened his arms, letting Hikori jump into them. “I love you, Papa!”

“Love you too, Hiki.” Kuroo rubbed Hikori’s back before placing him down and letting (Name) hug her son.

“I love you, Hiki. I promise, we’ll be home in a few days okay?” She bent down, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bye Mama! I love you too.”

Hikori was released from his parents, backing up until he ran into Bokuto’s legs. Bokuto scooped him up. “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of him.”

“Thanks Kou.” (Name) kissed his cheek, hugging both of them. Bokuto savored the moment. “We’ll see you on Monday!”

“Let’s go love.” Kuroo opened the backseat door to Kenma’s car, who would be driving them to the airport. “Thanks Bokuto.” Kuroo nodded at the other male, before helping (Name) into the car. With one final wave, the couple were racing down the streets.

“I’ll miss them.”

Bokuto ruffled Hikori’s hair. “Me too.”

His heart screamed at him. To chase after her one more time. To hold her in his arms. They were so close. Words clawed at his throat, threatening to choke him as he swallowed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

I love you, (Name). I never stopped loving you. I was an idiot for ghosting you. An idiot for leaving you. Please, come back. I wanna raise our son with you.

I wish we could be parents together for Hikori.

I wish that I was taking you on our honeymoon.

I wish that you were pregnant with my daughter.

I wish we still lived together in that house we bought all those years ago.

I wish that you were still mine.

Please.

But Bokuto remained silent, watching as the car drove the love of his life further and further away from him. He looked down at his lockscreen. A photo of his red Japan national jersey stared back at him. It’s said that what you set as your lock-screen would end up being the most important thing to you.

At the end of the day, that was the choice he made.

Volleyball.

Not a future with the love of his life.

Not a future with kids.

Not a future with (Name).

*****

AN: And that’s a wrap y’all! How are we feeling? Is this what you expected? What was your favourite part about Lockscreens?

Please, spam my ask-box with your thoughts/comments/ideas. God I’m so emotional just posting this asdfghjkl

Since the series has officially wrapped up, feel free to ask for more supplements! I do have (2) more Lockscreens supplements to work on from the 600 follower event, but I’ll permanently be opening up supplements for Lockscreens on an “if I like it, I’ll write it” basis.

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother @setterfish @toobsessedsstuff @yeehawslap @shadowkunoichi @haikyuusimp91 @firebonbon @mentalydisturbed@samkysnks @dolan-mendes16 @loudpoetry23 @estmagnifique @milkteeboba @newfriendjen @sempiternal-amour @scrappyfka @ mayor-chu-of-many-towns @bokutosdivineass @yeahhemmings- @elianetsantana @strawhatshepard @caramel-chuuya @sol-demure @song-of-storms162 @rogueofbullshit @cheerysparkle @killlerqween @aomineavenue @fatal-impact @isleofnajera @safa-a07 @shoyomeow @vicassa @shrimpypenis @craftyfawns @london-quynh @katelyns-stuff @leinnah @yoitsseulgi @tazzi-baby @babyydragon21

I couldn’t tag names in bold.

Thank you again for going on this journey with me.

267 notes · View notes

rfadaydreaming · 4 years

Text

— cellophane

why won’t you do it for me? when all i do is for you?

pairing: jumin x mc

words: 4.4k

link to read on ao3 [x]

prompt: failures // fights

tags: angst, language, unhealthy relationship, a bit toxic tbh, insecure jumin, emotional manipulation, unhappy marriage

a/n: for: @mysme-events angst week. this piece is inspired by fka twigs song, cellophane!

“Are you mad at me?”

Your voice had come out smaller than you had intended.

“Is there a reason I should be mad at you?”

He replied without meeting your gaze, opting to focus on the rain outside the car window instead. You didn’t quite know what kind of emotion his tone was carrying, but yet you knew it wasn’t good.

“No...”

You became hyperaware of the bad taste beginning to form in the back of your throat. It’s all too familiar, unfortunately.

“Then I shouldn't be mad at you. Should I?”

You didn’t answer him. You just weren’t sure what to say.

Heavy silence filled the car once again, the rain against the roof of the vehicle was the only thing that occupied the small space.

You sighed louder than you meant to, arms crossing over your torso, cheek resting against the foggy glass of the window. The cold felt nice against your skin, helped keep you grounded, calm. You took in a few deep breaths as you thought back on the events of earlier tonight.

The unfamiliar hand grazing the small of your back surprised you to say the least, you wanted to flinch away the moment you felt his hands touch you,, but yet you didn’t move. Why? You’re not exactly sure. Politeness, anxiety, maybe a mix of both. Maybe something else underneath it all.

You recognized the voice as a business partner of Jumins, the owner of the company that’s been occupying most of your husband's time as of late. Late nights, long meetings, hoards and hoards of paperwork.

His reputation was one you knew well, hearing it all secondhand from Jumin. He was quick to drop anyone who disagreed with him, no matter how small. Such a pain for your stubborn husband to work around, but yet as always, he somehow managed.

But one thing your husband made sure you knew about was his stance with women in particular. You weren’t allowed to come to the company dinners anymore. You could only drop things off through Jaehee at the office.

It seems he didn’t even want you to call him after meetings, one thing you two have always done even before you had started dating. Maybe the fear of his colleague overhearing your voice was the reason behind it, you didn’t know, you didn’t ask. You knew he would get upset if you did.

Stay away from him, was all he warned.

And you promised him that you would.

“And you must be the famous Mrs Han, I presume?”

He was in front of you now, his hand lingering on your hip for a moment before pulling away. You inched away ever so slightly.

“Ah, Yes. I am.”

You had to look up to him to reply due to how close he was, the first thing you noticed was just how much he resembled Jumin. The only major difference was his eyes, while your husbands were grey and light, his were brown and deep. The similarities threw you off guard for a moment, however your surprise once you met his gaze seemed to be taken a different way than you had intended.

A slight chuckle escaped his lungs, It was warm and clear, it had a bit more of a higher pitch than Jumin’s did. More character to it.

“I’ve heard such great things about you! Your husband seems like quite the happy man. And I can see why, you’re beautiful. Ah– If I can say that, that is.”

You shied away without thinking, you didn’t particularly like the feeling you had in your stomach right now. You were also painfully aware of how his position was giving him a ‘good view’ of your body from up there, as your husband would sometimes say.

His words seemed innocent, he seemed kind. But Jumin’s warning still flickered within your mind.

“Thanks, I suppose.”

You fully expected him to take advantage of his much taller height, but yet he didn’t seem to. His eyes were trained onto your own as he smiled, never glancing down at your chest even once.

A weird feeling stirred deep within your insides.

He isn’t like how Jumin described at all.

Why would your husband lie?

You entertained his small talk for a few minutes, he introduced himself, as did you.

Fear was the main thing holding you back from leaving, of course. Jumin had been working on this project for months now, the memories of him falling asleep over his laptop, his dark circles, his late night confessions of just how much his head ached were fresh in the back of your mind.

His mood swings, his exhaustion, his late nights.

Be polite.

Be polite for Jumin.

“–But enough about all that! Do you drink?”

“Uhm… Wine, sometimes. But i’m not the biggest fan.”

“Any reason in particular?”

He leaned into you a bit, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. You naturally smiled in return.

“I’ve tried some wine, but they’re just all so bitter to me.”

You scrunched your nose a little at the memories. Vineyards with Jumin were never your favorite, he just loved such sour wines.

“Bitter? Your husband is an investor in how many wineries exactly, yet only offers his wife bitter wine? Hm. We can’t have that now, can we?”

He spoke with a smile, wrapping his arm around your waist and beginning to guide you towards the bar. Before you even got the chance to protest in return, he was already sweeping you away. His thumb ran circles on your hip that you were painfully aware of.

The pit in your stomach was growing heavier and heavier with every step.

It's been awhile since Jumin’s had even touched you like this, you thought.

It was nice.

He was rambling on about the wines he had lined up for tonight as he led you to a seat, pulling it out for you while still going on and on. You couldn’t even find an opening to interject, ask for a bathroom break, anything.

He ordered you a drink, as well as one for himself.

You desperately scanned the room for Jumin, eyes bouncing off black suit after black suit. You just couldn’t pinpoint him like this, everyone was wearing such similar clothing...

You swallowed thickly and took a sip of the wine in front of you, face cringing a bit as you expected the worst, however pleasantly surprised once the taste had hit your tongue.

It wasn't nearly as bitter as the wines Jumin often offered you.

Jumin’s sudden touch to your knee had caused you to jump a little, breaking you away from your racing thoughts.

“Stop.”

He finally met your gaze, you scrunched your brows in confusion. Two fingers pressed down against your skin, putting a halt to your restless leg.

“You know I don't like when you do that.”

A sigh escaped his lungs as he pulled his hand back, crossing his arms over his torso once again. Back to staring at whatever was so interesting outside the window. Oh yes, you had forgotten. How could you.

You glanced down at your knee after he had already pulled away.

It was red from the pressure that had been placed there.

“Well, sorry for being such an inconvenience then.”

You laughed a little in disbelief as you spoke, pressing your cheek against the window once more.

Maybe it was a childish thing to say, but you truly didn’t care right now. You slumped further into the seat, humming to yourself softly as you stole some glances here and there towards your husband.

His face was void of any readable emotion as of now, but his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes said everything you needed to know. He seemed to be thinking about something, your words perhaps. He suddenly met your eyes without warning. It made you flinch.

“Inconvenience.”

He looked at you as he spoke. It felt so cold. You could feel anxiety beginning to build.

“Inconvenience, is searching all over the venue for my wife when she won’t even bother to pick up her phone for her husband.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but you had cut him off before he got the chance,

“Jumin I told you it was almost dead earlier tonight, I just–“

“Don’t interrupt me while i’m speaking. Please.”

Jumin raised his voice harshly, it was ever so slight, but it still took you by surprise. His eyes were oddly intense with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint, all you knew is that they carried weight behind him. One you weren’t used to seeing.

His gaze made you feel small and slightly embarrassed, you weren’t even sure why. It just did.

You nodded and closed your mouth, letting him go on.

“Inconvenience, is watching my wife entertain another man while I watch from the sidelines. Not just any man, but the one man I so vividly remember telling her to stay away from.”

You opened your mouth to interject once more but his brows furrowed as soon as you did so, his chin tilted forward in silent warning.

He continued on.

“Inconvenience, is seeing my wife share drinks with another man. Flirting with another man. Touching another man.”

“I didn't flirt.”

You raised your voice slightly, not by much, but it was enough to make him raise a brow. It was just... so hard to control yourself when he was being like this sometimes.

“Sharing a few drinks with him, laughing and giggling like some teenage schoolgirl, letting him put his hands all over you. Might as well have.”

Jumin’s tone was still so cold, monotone, and for some reason that hurt more than anything else could have.

It was like this most of the time. He would never yell, he would never shout, barely even show any emotion at all if you’re being honest. It drove you up the wall sometimes. You always left feeling like you were the irrational one because of it, no matter the case.

It seems that’s what was happening again. As it always does.

“I wasn't given a choice, Jumin! He wouldn’t let me–”

The car came to a sudden stop, you groaned a bit, nearly biting your tongue due to the stop. It interrupted you just as you had begun to raise your voice.

Jumin gave you an heavy look before rolling down the partition, Driver Kim gave him the confirmation that you two were back home.

He got out first, offering you a hand that you had refused to take.

The elevator ride was so uncomfortable.

His posture was relaxed as it usually was, hands messing with his cufflinks absentmindedly, his expression nearly blank while he stared at the panel of buttons on the wall, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world or something. The only indicator he has when he’s upset would be a clenched jaw.

It was something you had become oh so familiar with these past couple of months.

Anxiety was building up inside of your body, it felt itchy, it nearly burned. It was almost always there and had no issues made itself well known. But there was something deeper building behind it, not just from the argument. Something unfamiliar, bitter, ugly.

It frightened you.

You weren’t sure what it was yet.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

The two of you entered the penthouse in heavy silence, it felt like even breathing was much too loud for the atmosphere around the both of you. Elizabeth the Third had come running over as soon as the door opened, but it seems even she was able to sense the tension. You weren’t surprised, she usually can.

She opted to climb up on the couch instead, tail twitching back and forth as she watched her parents carefully from afar. You vaguely wondered if she knew something you didn’t.

Jumin went straight to the kitchen as soon as his jacket and shoes were off, not a word was spoken while he left. He went for a glass of wine you could only presume, he usually did once he got home. Normally you would get on his case about it, his more unhealthy drinking habits had been increasing as of late, but tonight wasn’t the time to nag him for it. You didn’t have the energy to fuel the fire more than you already had.

You walked over to the living-room with a sigh, giving Elizabeth a slight pat before sprawling out on the couch. Your feet ached due to the heels from earlier tonight, but the relief of home was a welcomed feeling. You let your body sink into the cushions as you relaxed, at least the best you could for now.

You stared outside the window for a few moments, admiring the beauty of the city below. Your mind wandered just a bit. So many different types of people, most you’ll never meet, never see. But yet you wondered if maybe anyone out there knew how you felt right now. Maybe they could offer advice, a shoulder to cry on, something. Anything.

You closed your eyes, suddenly aware of how heavy they were getting, allowing your head fall back against the couch. It felt nice for a moment.

You drew in a deep breath, your lungs stung as you pushed their limits.

It was peaceful.

Jumin popping open a wine bottle in the kitchen caused you to flinch as you were brought back down to reality. The anxiety of the situation flooded back all at once, enough to make your stomach churn.

The gentle still of before was gone in an instant.

You knew how all of this would play out. It truly felt rehearsed at this point.

He would press your buttons.

You would get angry.

He would give you the silent treatment as soon as you lost your cool.

You would apologize.

He would forgive you.

The two of you make up until the next time, then the cycle repeats.

You were almost numb to it at this point.

It used to be fun fighting with Jumin at first, if you could even call it that. It never lasted for too long, never too harsh either. You both would talk it out, laugh a little, then of course the make up afterwards was always amazing.

But now? There was nothing. No heated passion afterwards. No talking. No laughing.

Nothing.

Now you two could stay angry at each other for days on end until eventually one of you got tired of it, usually you. And someone halfheartedly apologizes, again, usually you. There was no communication either, you two just… go on like it never happened.

But it did happen.

It does happen.

And it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it doesn’t.

You heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, getting louder every second that passed. A soft sigh left your chest as you kept your eyes closed, maybe he would go away if you closed them tight enough, you could only hope.

It's Jumin. That’s your husband. You should never feel that way about him. But yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t.

You opened your eyes slowly and watched as he sat on the chair across from you, crossing his ankles in a somewhat sophisticated manner before slowly looking you up and down. The position you had wasn’t ladylike if you were being frank, your legs spread out despite the smaller dress you wore, arms sprawled out across the back of the couch, your posture slouched deep into the cushions. It felt a bit judgemental the way he observed you, maybe not, but right now you genuinely couldn’t tell.

“Feeling better?”

“Oh fuck off.”

You spat in return with a bitter laugh, god how you hated when he said shit like that during times like these. You knew that he knew you hated it too. Enter the pushing of buttons.

“I was simply asking a question. No need to get so worked up, my dear.”

He focused his attention on the dark liquid swirling within his glass while he spoke, putting emphasis on the pet name, feigning fondness. You narrowed your eyes in return.

“I feel great, especially good knowing that i’m not the one in the wrong here.”

While you beamed, he tensed.

You shouldn’t have said that. You knew you shouldn’t have the second it came out of your mouth.

“A lot of confidence coming from a woman who was acting like a little whore less than an hour ago.”

He suddenly met your gaze, your eyes widened as you felt anger begin to flood your chest. Jumin had never called you something like that before.

“Excuse me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice was laced with offense, rage, maybe a bit of hurt if he cared to listen closely enough. But inside you knew he didn’t. You had gotten up from your place on the couch so quickly it had made you light headed for a few moments.

“Apparently something since you feel the need to flirt with any man you can get you hands on whenever I'm not around.”

Jumin looked up at you, you looked back down at him.

You were silent for a moment.

Processing things, taking it all in. Trying your hardest not to lose your cool, you just knew once you lost it he would have the upper hand. Don't lose your cool MC, please, you mentally chided. You inhaled deeply, exhaling even deeper as you took a quick breather.

“Look. I know how hard you’ve been working on this project okay, I didn’t want to fuck it up by saying something wrong to the guy or anything, I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, Jumin.”

You pleaded almost pathetically. Here it goes. This is the part where you usually start to apologize.

“Please, dont pretend like you’ve ever had my best interest in mind.” He said with a bitter laugh.

His laugh stung.

It was the thing to finally push you over the edge.

“You know what, I really, really wish I didn’t. If you cared enough to pay attention you’d see i’m always putting your best interest first and it makes my life miserable, absolutely fucking miserable Jumin! I can't even speak to another man without you getting all insecure and pissed off about it, and guess what happens after that? You make me feel fucking insane when i’ve done nothing wrong!”

You shouted, vented, spilt things you’d never even said out loud before.

“I don't even want to go outside anymore because I just know i’m going to do something that’ll make you mad, and you know what? I’m the person who has to apologize for it. Every single time. I’m the person who ends up comforting you even after you spend hours making me feel like i’m some whore or a broken fucking toy you only keep around because you’re scared of being alone again. It’s always me, me! It’s never you! I am so, so fucking tired of yo- this.”

He met your eyes, they were wide with surprise, shock, maybe even anger, but honestly you didn’t have the energy to care about his feelings right now. You couldn’t. It’s all you ever do, and it’s taking its toll on you. It’s too much.

Your slip up felt heavy in your throat. An apology almost spilt from your lips, but you stopped yourself before it had.

“This. I am so tired of this.”

You corrected yourself much quieter this time. It sounded so desperate, so empty.

The both of you sat in heavy silence once more. Exhaustion was slowly creeping its way into your body, mentally and physically.

You regretted all of your words almost instantly.

They weren’t false. But that only made you feel worse.

“MC.”

He spoke up after a few moments.

“Jumin.”

You replied calmly.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He genuinely seemed confused as he spoke, nervous, scared. On the inside you knew that he knew. He just wanted clarity, confirmation on what your words truly meant. It annoyed you, you had just explained exactly what you meant. But with a sigh, you held back your frustrations.

“Jumin. I am tired of this.”

You put emphasis on it, weakly pointing between the two of you. Eyes beginning to well with tears that you tried your hardest to shove away, your voice sounded so raw from yelling before, It hurt your own ears to listen to it.

A flash of guilt rapidly spread across his features, the glass in his hand shook slightly as he soaked in the true meaning behind your words. You were starting to feel guilty, he looked… scared. Your heart hurt looking at him in such a state right now.

His features softened as he met your eyes, he swallowed thickly. He looked like the old Jumin for a second again.

“MC, I’m–“

You cut him off with a shake of your head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your mouth,

“You’re so sorry. I know. You always do that. You put me through all of this only to apologize the second I say something that makes you even the slightest bit nervous.”

He broke away from your gaze like it had burned, instead staring down at the red liquid resting within his glass. His jaw was clenched again.

When you first entered a relationship with Jumin, you knew the kind of person he was. And at the time, you really thought you were okay with that.

He had a lot to work through, you knew.

You could help, you told yourself, you told him. You’d be there for him while he figured things out, it would get better, as long as you were there for him, he would get better.

And he did. For the first year at least.

But now, things were different. So different.

You would start to laugh at the cashier's jokes too loudly for his liking. He would grab your arm a little tighter than usual, a silent warning, and you would quickly stop.

If you entertained Zen’s antics a few times too many, he would give you the silent treatment. Eventually your relationship with Zen had suffered in the long run, it was just better for Jumin’s sake if you two didn’t talk anymore.

Is it better for your sake, MC?

You remember Zen asking, but you couldn’t answer him.

Now it’s gotten to the point where you can’t even look at another man for a few seconds too long or else it turns into another argument.

Sorry didn’t feel comforting anymore.

After all, nothing changed afterwards, so did he ever really mean it?

They were just empty words to you now.

He’ll grow out of it, right?

That’s what you wanted to believe at the beginning. But how long would it take before he did? If he ever did? You didn’t know if you’d be able to stick around long enough to find that out.

“Jumin I’m not sure… if this is…”

working anymore.

The words just wouldn’t leave your throat. But still, he knew. And you knew that he knew.

You took a few steps back with a sigh.

Something had triggered within your husband as he grasped the gravity of the situation, the implication behind your words, the consequences of his actions. He dropped the wine glass to the floor, making you jump from the awful sound it made as it shattered against the hardwood.

“You can’t leave.”

His eyes were wide as his head shook frantically, his expression took you by surprise, you could see panic claw their way into his features.

“Jumin.”

“No. Don’t– Don't leave. I’m sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He was on you in an instant, you knew he stepped on the glass judging by the sound it made, but yet he didn’t even flinch. You didn’t have time to process anything before he was holding you tightly against his chest, you couldn’t go anywhere even if you tried to, the pressure hurt a little.

“We’re fine.”

His voice was shaky as he comforted himself more than anyone, it had an uncertain edge to it, painfully reminding you back to the first time you had stayed in his apartment. It made you more than a little nervous.

“This won’t happen again. Just don't leave. Don't leave me.”

Jumin rambled uncharacteristically, apologizing relentlessly as he buried his face into the top of your hair, his hands coming to hold the back of your head softly, pulling you into his chest. The sudden shift in his mood was enough to give you whiplash, you felt so much, too fast. Confused, guilty, scared, numb. Surprise wasn’t one of them though, no. It’s always like this.

You could hear him swallow thickly while he shakily ran his fingers through your hair, his racing heartbeat filling all your senses. You couldn’t help but notice his embrace didn’t feel as comfortable as it once did, it was unfamiliar to you.

Your silence only made him even more nervous.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, your jawline, your temple, your forehead. You felt his tears press against your skin. He kissed your lips next, it was sloppy, panicked, filled with emotion. A sharp contrast to the Jumin you’ve been used to these past few months. Past few hours.

You didn’t react.

You didn’t kiss him back.

There was no spark to his touch like there should be. Like there used to be.

Your stomach was reeling, your ears were ringing. You suddenly buried your face into Jumin’s chest without warning, sobbing so hard that your head felt like it was about to burst from the pressure of your tears, your husband instead took this as a good sign. He hushed you with more of his frantic apologizes, but to be honest you weren’t really listening to him right now. Your mind only focused on one realization as you broke down within your husband's cold embrace.

“I love you.”

He whispered into your hair, you could tell by his tone that he really did mean it too. He cried with you even. Something he’d only done a few times in the relationship before.

You knew he did. You knew deep down, he loved you.

All you could offer in return was a nod. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. Just nod.

You realized something in that moment.

You weren’t able to say I love you back to your husband anymore.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mm #jumin han #jumin han mystic messenger #han jumin #jumin x mc #jumin x mc mystic messenger #jumin han mysme #jumin han mm #jumin mm #mysmeangstweek #my first ever angst omg i hope it’s okay #left it open for a part two. maybe. dont count on it.#yay i went back and edited this #sorry if you read the last version sbkshdj there was a lot of mistakes

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expectingtofly · 4 years

Text

Eternity

15x20 fix-it coda

also on ao3

I don’t know how to cope with the finale, so I wrote this:

Dean opened his eyes to mountains.

Bright, blue sky, tall grass at his feet. Cool, brisk, fresh air. He ran a hand over his chest. No blood. No pain. He took a deep breath. So this was his Heaven.

He hadn’t wanted to die. Not now, not when he had just been finding his way. Researching, hunting, trying to be happy for Sam and Eileen—adopting a dog, for fuck’s sake. Trying so hard to not let Cas’ sacrifice go to waste, to live his life fully. But there was so much he’d still wanted to do.

His eyes burned with tears and he blinked fiercely. Funny, he’d once thought Heaven would be peaceful, happy. But it hurt, so much, to leave Sam behind. It hurt knowing there was truly no chance of ever seeing Cas again—

Shaking his head, he stepped forward, staring up at the weathered, old building he’d appeared beside. This was his ending. He had to accept it; maybe one day he could accept it. He had an eternity to come to terms with it all, he supposed.

“Dean!” someone greeted him as he walked around the corner of the building, and he realized Bobby was sitting on the front porch. The front porch of the Harvelle Roadhouse, Dean realized.

“Bobby?” He raised his arms automatically as Bobby rose out of his chair and pulled him into a hug. “What are you doing here? What memory is this?”

“It ain’t a memory.” Bobby pulled away and clapped him on the shoulder, smiled. “Heaven’s different now. Your boy Jack fixed it. Everyone’s free, not trapped in memories of their past life. You get to live a new life up here.”

Stunned, Dean looked around. Baby sat a few feet away in the parking lot. Low music carried from inside the Roadhouse. No monsters. Freedom. Felt like a pretty good ending. Almost perfect.

“Jack’s here, by the way,” Bobby said, sinking into one of the chairs on the porch.

“He is?” Dean sat down in the chair next to Bobby. “But he said—”

Bobby laughed. “He may be God, or the equivalent, but he’s just a boy. I think the whole raindrop thing got old after one day. I have a feeling he’ll be visiting Sam and the others on Earth soon enough.”

Dean laughed and gestured to the roadhouse. “Are Ellen and Jo here?”

Bobby nodded. “Rufus too. Your friend Charlie, Kevin, everyone else, they’re all just down the road. We’ve been waiting for you and Sam. Didn’t think you'd arrive so quickly, to be honest.”

“Me neither,” Dean admitted. “Sam, he’ll be okay, won’t he? I told him, I don’t want him to hunt anymore, I want him to be happy with Eileen, have some kids—” He realized he was clenching the armrests of the chair.

“I think he’ll be just fine,” Bobby said. “You’re gonna be alright too.”

“Have to be, right?” Dean asked. His throat felt tight. “I’m in Heaven now.”

Bobby studied him and Dean looked away, swallowed hard as he stared out at the mountains, at the trees in every shade of green, at the dirt road disappearing into the distance.

“He’s here too.”

Dean snapped his head back to stare at Bobby, who smiled knowingly. His heart began thumping in his chest and he gripped the armrests once again.

“Soon as Jack showed up, he brought someone else back.”

“He did?” Dean stood, his heart racing. Tears were pricking his eyes again, but he saw Bobby’s smile widen. “Cas?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby nodded at the door to the roadhouse. “I’m sure he’s waiting inside.”

Turning, Dean wrenched open the door and rushed into the barroom.

The lights were on, the jukebox playing “The Rain Song” low, and there, turning around to face him, was Castiel.

Blue eyes, the trenchcoat, the crooked tie. Dean froze, staring.

Castiel smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean had him in his arms before he realized he was rushing forward. His hands gripped at the familiar fabric of the trenchcoat, and he felt Castiel’s arms come up around him, hold him tight. A sob rose in his throat, then he was crying like he hadn’t cried since the night Castiel died. He buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder and cried from relief so acute it felt like he was dying all over again.

“I thought you were gone,” he choked out. “I thought I’d lost you forever—” He pulled back to look at Castiel and search his face to confirm it was really him. “You died, I watched you die.”

“It's me,” Castiel said, still holding tightly to him. His eyes were wet. "Jack brought me back."

“Since when?” Tentatively, he raised a hand to touch Castiel’s face, then let his hand stay there, cupping Castiel's jaw. Castiel looked younger; Dean wondered if he looked younger too. “When were you going to come see me?”

A sad smile tugged at Castiel’s mouth and he ducked his head. “I wasn’t sure, I thought perhaps—”

“Cas, I love you.” The words came out so easily, but they had been building in his chest for a long time now.

Castiel raised his head, and he looked so surprised, so unsure.

“I love you,” Dean repeated. He brought his other hand to Castiel’s cheek, cradled his face. “I’m so sorry I never told you; I never even admitted it to myself for so long. I told myself you couldn’t ever feel that way towards me, of all people. And then when I knew, it was too late.” His voice broke at the memory of black enveloping Castiel, pulling him away, and he shut his eyes, took a stuttering breath. He'd been so scared he'd never get to say these words aloud, so scared Castiel would never hear them.

He felt light fingers touch his hands, warm palms cup them with his own. “Dean,” Castiel said quietly and pressed his forehead against Dean’s.

“Thank you for saving me,” Dean said, steadying himself with the simple touch. “Thank you, for everything. You’ve always been there, and I love you. I love you, Castiel, and you can have me, you’ve always had me.”

Castiel nodded, then tilted his face up and they were kissing, and it was wet and messy, and Dean was pretty sure he was still crying, but he was so damn relieved, he thought it was the best kiss he’d ever had.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said when they broke apart. He tried to catch his breath and let out a laugh. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this happy.”

“Good things do happen, Dean,” Castiel said, smiling through his tears. He wiped at the tears on Dean’s cheek with his thumb.

Dean smiled. “Yeah, I think I’m ready to believe it now.”

Clutching Castiel’s hand, he took a deep breath and looked around the Roadhouse. “So this is it. This is Heaven.”

“It’s... beautiful here,” Castiel said. “Jack did a wonderful job. You can have anything you want now. Any life you want.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Well. I know Sam is alive and has Jack to look out for him. I have Baby. I have Bobby and Ellen and Jo.” He looked back at Castiel. “I have you. I want you. You’re all I ever wanted.”

“I’m here,” Castiel said, squeezing his hand. “You’ll always have me.”

Dean kissed him again. He’d never felt more alive, which shouldn’t make sense, but he felt hope and joy and relief thrumming through his veins, so many emotions he didn’t know what to do, he felt almost dizzy.

Pulling back suddenly, he asked, “Do you want to dance?”

Castiel started laughing. “Yes,” he said, threading his fingers through Dean’s. “Yes, I do.”

They turned slowly through the room to the music from the jukebox. Dean spun Castiel around and Castiel laughed. Pressing back up against Dean, he beamed at him. "I love you."

Dean slid his hand under Castiel's trenchcoat. "Love you more."

“Not possible," Castiel said, and Dean smiled wider. He thought he would never stop smiling. Never stop smiling for an eternity, an eternity with Castiel.

have to link to these gifs bc they make my heart happy <3

**story edited on 11/22 to replace “your mom and dad are down the road” to “charlie and kevin are down the road” bc fuck john

Tag List

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @spookyskeletonsandallthezombies @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell

these characters hold a special place in my heart, so I won’t stop writing about them anytime soon. Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my other destiel fics or removed from the list :)

#my heart hurts #but if dean had to die in the finale #at least cas couldve showed up!!#if he was indeed there as bobby hinted #just makes me sad that cas got so fucked over #anyway #fluff #forehead touch #kissing #crying #love confession #slow dancing #destiel fic #expectingtofly writes #sappy shit

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air-in-words · 4 years

Text

My Sorting Hat Chats Journey

So, hi! I'm back!

I've been doing fun stuff off in the real world, but I decided to talk a little bit about my own Sorting Hat Chats sorting journey, and how it says a lot about self-acceptance, and how understanding who you really are can sometimes only come from being an active participant in life. Here we goooo...

The Beginning

So, my initial sorting was a Burnt Badger/Bird. This had struck me, because I'd never considered myself a Badger in ANY media. I was seen by my friends as a borderline loner, someone who didn't need anyone else. And yet, all the signs were there.

Looking back on my life, I've always migrated in groups, always looked for a nesting ground, and truly that's all I want. A place to nest, a place to rest, where I can feel safe and surrounded by people who love me. But, after a childhood filled with bullying, I found myself embarrassed of my bold face need for friends, and, for some reason, decided getting too close to people for too long was unwise, so I could probably never have a permanent home. And yet, I always found myself in these little "groups," little packs of people that all travel together.

I've always had these friend groups, where everyone knows each other, we all hang out together, and yet it always manages to eventually fall apart. I asked one of my friends how this keeps happening, and who keeps setting up these groups. She blinked sort of vaguely and said, "uh, you do." It was such a strange realization to look back and see myself as the "shepherd" I was, always creating a flock wherever I went. I had always been the spoke of my friend wheels, the only one that was friends with everyone, or actively tried to be friends with everyone. And I would attempt to hold it together, but it would always ultimately shatter, and I'd leave to find and form another. Family is important to me, and it isn't enough for me to bond with one person. I like for all my friends to be friends with each other, for us all to hang out together and enjoy each other's company.

So, although I still struggle, Burnt Badger came out on top, and I believe is still at the top to this day. I still search for belonging. I still search for family. And, yet, my heart seems to have no intention of unburning. Until recently, I had no idea why.

On the other hand, the secondary I received, Bird, seemed to fit like a glove, and was very obvious to me. I've been called the Encyclopedia before, I was made fun of for being caught reading the dictionary like it was a book, and I always seem to have a "fun fact" for every occasion. And all of this seemed to flow directly into me trying to use these facts and this knowledge to win people over, to get to see me as someone that could be their friend, or that I could be reliable as a member of their "group." So, Burnt Badger/Bird simply made sense. The reasons for me avoiding unburning my primary were irrelevant.

The Now

I'd been gone from this side of Tumblr for a bit, and decided to return on a whim. Saw @wisteria-lodge still posting as much as ever, and saw a lot of my posts had been passed around in the meantime (thank ya by the way) and decided to dive back in, because since then, so much of my life has changed. I've had certain people out of my life for a while that were a hindrance on my self-acceptance, I've moved out of my childhood home, and left a job I've had for the past 5 years. I've been forced to constantly LIVE, to make choices, actual choices, and have been offered the chance to be who I truly am, unapologetically.

So, I took the quiz again, curious if I would come up any different.

I got Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake.

This time, I was almost insulted. A flush of memories, of past feelings came to me, most of all the need to push back, to insist in exasperation I'M NOT A LIAR, as though I was tired of defending myself. As hard as I tried, I somehow couldn't seem to get Bird secondary to reappear.... at all. Which was so crazy, because before, that was pretty much all I could get.

So, I went to the experts, the aforementioned wisteria-lodge and @sortinghatchats .

I looked through the Snake secondary tags and found myself lost in memories I had pushed down, so far down even I couldn't find them, wracked with shame and a need to hide this side of myself, something I'd hidden so well I'd pretty much convinced myself it had never existed.

Being a Bird had always been a choice for me. I decided that was what people must want, becoming intelligent, knowing all of these things, showing off, that would make people like me. But, although I can devour books like nobody's business, and I tend to worry and whinge before every major decision, feeling unprepared, I would always find myself falling short of my own expectations. The amount of times I'd promised myself and others to create a plan and study hard, ultimately fail to do so, and then lie to everyone about it was astounding. My public image continued to be "air-in-words the smart girl" but my private image was still LIAR and FAKE.

I would still somehow get all A's. I was very good at remembering facts and excellent at taking tests. I always thought of them like little tricks themselves, meant to trip you up, but if you paid attention, you could figure out the patterns and be able to bluster your way through stuff you might not even fully understand. You can figure out certain words through context clues, and I was always very comfortable trusting my memory with little preparation beforehand. And yet, I still lied and told everyone I'd studied, at least as a child, before high school.

Math was what eventually messed me up, and sent my self-image whirling into the ground. My grades suddenly went from straight A's to D's and F's. My parents were aghast, what had happened??? I was so intelligent, so smart, such a good student. What had gone wrong?? And, although I never admitted it outloud to them, I knew the answer. With math, you can't trick your way out. You either know how to do it and give the right answer, or you don't. And I had never studied a day in my life, never practiced, never worked hard at all. It was my horrible little secret and math had outed me. It continues to out me, because rather than actually work at it and get better, I managed to keep my grades through high school afloat by leaning on my other grades and taking remedial math courses with a teacher who loved me very much and would let me off easy. To this day, honestly, I can barely count. I might actually have some form of dyscalculia, but I know that if I were willing to try a little harder I could get better. But, why would I do that, when this way works just fine? Just coasting through? But, again, no one could know. Not even myself.

Through high school, I began letting people in on my secret Snake, because being a "slacker" was suddenly cool. I still couldn't let my parents know, or the teachers, but coming clean about not being a keener was what earned me new friend groups. I wasn't some weirdo who actually studied all the time: I was a kid who maybe did 60-70% of my homework and slid by on my good memory and general interest in learning. And my reputation. My reputation was key to my success.

College would be the thing that completely threw me to the ground. There were simply too many sirens singing at me, distractions pulling me away from my work. I'd never looked less like a Bird than in college. I was always skipping class, always not studying, and in fact, would openly fail most of my courses. And I just didn't seem to care. I slid into what I guess must have been a sort of neutral zone, but I wasn't happy. The mask was slipping off and I needed out. I couldn't keep up this charade anymore. It was stifling, trying to be a Bird, going to college for a very Bird degree, surrounded by actual Birds, it was all very much what I didn't want. I wanted something less "academic," less, well, boring. Maybe more Snake like.

And, so, here we are. Currently dropped out of college, living in an apartment with my friend, away from my parents' prying eyes, and with a new job that I chose for myself. On the brink of finally understanding myself, and maybe accepting myself as I am.

My Badger primary is burned because of my Snake secondary. Because I thought I was a sham, a liar, a con, and I didn't feel like I deserved to have people close to me. Those traits are bad, and I was a bad person. No one should be tricked by me.

But, after reading some of the stories from the experts and other Snake secondaries, I found this crazy thought, that perhaps being this way isn't a bad thing. Maybe I'm not a bad person. Maybe it's okay to be who I am. Maybe I can use these "powers" for good, and they aren't inherently evil.

So, at least for now, I'm choosing to identify as Burnt Badger/Burnt Snake with Bird Model. Seeing how it feels to accept myself and not try and force myself to be who I think I should be, or who others want me to be (which is a Snake secondary thing in the first place. Lol!)

For Fun, Here's Some Crazy Actual Snake Secondary Things I've Done That I'm Trying to Be Less Ashamed of Now

When I was little, I used to make up crazy stories about things I'd done to seem more interesting. The one that makes me cringe the most is that my uncle has a statue in his backyard that comes to life and goes on adventures with me. My uncle DID have a statue in his backyard that I really loved but no, it didn't (and still hasn't) come to life.

Some of these, I can't explain, like this one, where I somehow had more than one teacher convinced I'd handed in every piece of homework before the one I was giving them the sob story about that day. I literally had a teacher look me in the face, tell me I'd been handing in my homework really well thus far and knew I was trustworthy, so they'd let me slide with no mark against me. Meanwhile, I had missed the homework for the past THREE WEEKS IN A ROW. I just smiled and let it go. Variations of this situation happened throughout high school and college. And, no, I had no good reason not to do the homework. I just didn't want to do it. Lol.

I usually live in the "neutral state" around my close friends, since I think it's disrespectful not to be straight with them, but I have had to turn it on to help them occasionally. One of my friends was having issues with an ex of hers, she was thinking that maybe she should go back out with the guh, and I had been my blunt, neutral self the whole time, telling her flat out that that was a bad idea. But, it wasn't working. "Neutral state" isn't like a Lion's forceful natural state, I guess. So, I decided I would have to push her in a certain direction to help her get through it. I told her she should go back out with him, and although she did sort of call me out for lying, knowing I didn't actually want that, I told her she should if she really think she should. The dude didn't last one date without showing his ass again, and she thanked me for making her do that. Lol.

Finally, at least for this list, my most prized shameful memory, is when I was taking an acting class in college. We were supposed to create a wordless scene as our final, and I hadn't prepared anything, so I just skipped the day we were supposed to do them. But, I decided to show up for the last day to see if I could still somehow pass. She's going through the grades, and looks up and asks me, "I don't have anything written down for you, I can't remember, did you give a performance or not?" I knew I hadn't then, but decided to give one now. I told her yes I had done one, don't you remember came up with a name on the fly. The same friend from the last story was staring at me like she was about to burst. She thought for a moment, then exclaimed, "ah, of course! Yes, I think I remember. I remember you'd done pretty well. What grade did I give you?" I hedged my bets and said A-. Lol. I had never been filled with more pride shame in my life.

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

Text

Separated (Zuko x Reader)

Characters: Zuko, Iroh

Fandom: Avatar The Last Airbender

Tags Reader Insert, Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Spoilers about Zuko’s character and backstory

Word Count: 1,7k words

Summary: Y/N and Zuko are constantly arguing because of his stubbornness, and it isn’t until they are separated that they truly realize how much they need each other.

A/N: I’m not completely sure the timelines match, but I had this idea that explored Zuko’s character and I loved it, so here it is! I’m quite proud of this one! Hope you enjoy reading :D

Zuko x Gender Neutral Reader

Iroh cheerfuly hummed as he served you tea. Both Zuko and you refused to look at each other. You had run out of patience, and so had he.

Perhaps his uncle was more benevolent and lenient, but you weren’t. Like Iroh, you had realized Zuko’s struggle, and you saw the good and kindness in him as well. Unlike his uncle, however, you were fed up with his demeanor. Zuko held on to so much anger and resentment, all aimed at the wrong person.

It wasn’t the Avatar that would bring his honor back, couldn’t he see? His father had showed his position quite clearly when he burned Zuko badly enough to leave him scarred for life. And not only because of the mark in his face.

“I’m tired of waiting” Zuko muttered, showing his impatience once more.

“Patience is a virtue, dear nephew” Although Iroh was clearly taking to him, his kind eyes fell over you as well.

“Don’t bother, Iroh” You said nonetheless, unable to contain your bitterness in regards to the prince’s demeanor as of late. It had only gotten worse these last few days.

Your comment earned you a bad look from him. You turned your face away. In reality, you were only trying to hide how much it pained you. How deeply it hurt you to see him deny the truth and go after someone who only wanted to help people.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Zuko barked back, dedicating you a challenging glare and demanding a reaction from you.

“It means you are being stupid and stubborn!” You said, slamming your cup on the ground. “Capturing the Avatar won’t-”

“If I bring him to my father, he will restore my honor!” He interrupted you, raising his volume much louder than you.

“No, he won’t!”

“Don’t talk about what you know nothing of, Y/N!”

“I do know! No offense, Zuko, but your father is a jerk”

“He is not!”

“Whatever you say…”

“Yes, I am the prince and-”

“You are a banished prince whose father doesn’t care for!”

“That’s enough!” He abruptly stood up, and his face contorted in the angriest grimace you had ever seen. “If you’re not going to help, leave right now!”

“I will!” You threw the cup of tea at his feet in an outburst of fury. “I don’t want to be around you anymore!”

Just when you had already turned your back on him, you realized what that implied. Just as your foot hovered in the air before you took the first step, you paused. Looking over your shoulder, you locked gazes with Iroh. It wasn’t fair to him either. His eyes were laced with sadness, almost begging you not to give up on Zuko. Without looking at the prince, you shook your head at his uncle. You didn’t have the strength to believe in him anymore, not when he continued to push you away like that.

Making your choice, you continued walking away from them. Away from him. Silence lingered for a bit longer until you were out of reach.

“Y/N called you Zuko...” Iroh whispered, still saddened as they both watched how you left without looking back. “Not Lee...”

“So what?” He replied with a shrug, even if his voice broke. Deep down, he knew what that meant. Even if his uncle didn’t give him an answer either.

To you, he wasn’t Lee anymore. He wasn’t that person you had grown so fond of, that you had met so long ago and had decided to help. That you had continued to address like that because that was the boy you knew and cared about. No, he was Zuko to you now. The angry prince from the evil Fire Nation, someone you could’t rely on anymore. You thought of him like everyone else did.

Facing his back to his uncle, Zuko frowned. He tried to hide how much that thought hurt him. Hide it even from himself.

Every time a sound came, his heart raced. Zuko looked for you in every shadow, in every face he came across, in every vaguely familiar voice he heard. You had been separated for what felt like months, even if only a week had gone by. Each minute that passed only filled him with more regret.

As he returned to where Iroh was waiting for him, Zuko dragged his feet. His heart felt heavy, but he tried to straighten up and pretend like it didn’t.

“You’re back!” Iroh warmly smiled at his nephew, even if the gesture faded at the sight of a crestfallen Zuko.

He had been patiently waiting for him to return from his search for you, and when he finally did it was alone. What was worse, Zuko didn’t seem to want to stay. Your argument heavily weighted on him, it was easy to tell. A part of him was glad that Zuko regretted what happened and was adamant on finding you. On making things right. The other part wished he would stay by his side, where he was safe and accompanied.

“I’m sorry, uncle, but I came only to speak to you” Zuko told him, hanging his head low. “I was hoping Y/N had returned and met with you, but...”

"I wish I could give you good news, prince Zuko” Iroh shook his head, confirming that he had not seen you at all.

“I need to find Y/N” The thought of something horrible happening to you was too awful to bear. It was all the more terrible when he remembered how your last moments together went.

Zuko clenched his fists, hating that you had that perception of him. That you were tired of fighting to bring the good in him, that you truly thought he didn’t care about you. That you left him forever without knowing how important you were to him.

Only dedicating his uncle a last resigned glance before leaving again, Zuko sighed. His feet began mindlessly moving as his head wandered.

Maybe you and Iroh were right. Maybe the firelord wasn’t worth all this trouble, maybe the Avatar wouldn’t restore his honor. Maybe, like you said, he was only a boy trying to help people.

If only he could talk to you one more time... It was his only thought, repeating over and over again, as he continued moving. He didn’t even watch where he was going, he was just trying to leave that feeling behind.

“Lee?” Zuko halted at the sound of a familiar voice. However, and unlike many other times during that week, when he looked up he wasn’t dissapointed this once.

“Y/N” He uttered, watching you from a distance, almost thinking it was too good to be true.

Something, however, stopped him from taking another step. He knew it wasn’t the shock of seeing you. It might have been his pride, or that eternal struggle within him, or the fear of being too vulnerable in front of you. It didn’t matter. All of these obstacles became insignificant when he realized something. You were hurt, there were bruises all over your face. Just then, your knees buckled and you fell to the floor.

“Y/N!” Without even thinking, Zuko ran to you and took you by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Despite your weak state, you managed a faint smile as you looked into his amber eyes. He frowned in concern, but you didn’t mind him.

“I found you” You muttered, feebly leaning against him.

“You’re injured” Frozen in place, he didn’t allow his arms to wrap around you quite yet, even as your forehead rested against his shoulder. “What happened?”

“I got in trouble, big one” You paused for a moment, exhausted. “I should have been more careful, but I couldn’t focus and-”

“This was all my fault” He interrupted you, urgently taking you in his arms now. “None of this would have happened if-”

“If I had been more patient” Breaking away just enough to look into his eyes, you were quick to cut his guilt. Your hand cupped his face, your thumb gently caressing his scar. “I haven’t given up on you, I never did... not really. I was just angry and frustrated and...”

“Forgive me” One of his hands moved to brush a knuckle against a nasty looking bruise in your cheek. “I know you only had my best interests at heart”

There was a pause in which he desperately squeezed you against him, trying to confirm that you were there with him again. That you were alive and well. You broke the silence, uncomfortable with the thoughts that undoubtedly plagued his mind.

“Did your uncle nag you about this?”

“He did”

“I owe him a hug then”

“I’m sorry, Y/N...” Zuko couldn’t bring himself to just accept your attempts and pretend like nothing had happened. The guilt still clutched on to his chest. “I let my anger separate us, but these days apart have really made me realize...”

“Enough of that...” You didn’t want him to dwell on it, so you tried to give him a smile again. “I’m tired”

“But...”

“You’re so rude” You locked eyes with him, chuckling a little. “You didn’t even say hello, Lee”

“I told you my real name a long time ago...”

“Shut up and say it”

A glint in your eyes finally made him understand. You had forgiven him, you did soon after being separated. He had shown regret, he had shown that he cared, that he was at least willing to listen now. And if not, Iroh would help in nudging him in the right direction. Zuko relaxed, also loosening his subconscious tight grip on you, and nodded his head.

“Hello, Y/N” Not letting go of you, he helped you to your feet. “Welcome back”

You sighed in relief and leaned your weight on him. Those days had been long and scary, but you were back. You were safe, with people who cared about you. With people who would protect you and nurse you back to health.

Zuko didn’t think twice to wrap an arm around your waist to support you. You needed him, and he wouldn’t let you down this time.

“I hope Iroh has some tea ready” You groggily said as you two slowly walked back to him. “I could use some right now”

“I’m sure he does” Lee smiled. “He’ll be happy to see you”

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @lotsoffandomimagines / @lotsoffandomstoimagine / @undercanonthots / @niphredil-14 // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#rfi writings #ficlet #atla #atla ficlet #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko ficlet #reader insert #not requested #faves #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender ficlet #avatar: the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender ficlet #a:tla #a:tla ficlet

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maybankiara · 4 years

Text

BORROWED TIME (1/2)

pairing: JJ Maybank x Girlfriend!Reader

summary: JJ’s girlfriend tells him she loves him, and it’s the one thing he’s not ready to hear.

word count: 3k

warning: negative self-image on jj’s part; implications of anxiety issues and trauma from his upbringing

additional: this is basically 90% angst with some fluff thrown into the mix, it’s based on i love you by billie eilish as if the song were from jj’s perspective, hence the fic is from jj’s perspective, too. it’s a part one out of two.

masterlist

tag list

written for an anon

part two

JJ Maybank is a lonely boy. He is hurting more often than he isn’t, and most of it doesn’t even come in the shape of jabs that turn him into a canvas of red, purple, and yellow. It’s words, often, leaving his skin unscathed but his mind cut deeply, little by little.

He wonders, sometimes, if some of what is said about him is true. He wonders if he truly is the person his father sees him to be – drunken thoughts are meant to be sober thoughts, and what’s that other than honest truth? The words might hurt, and JJ might be able to shove them underneath the rug in his chest, but sometimes it’s not his dad who says them.

Sometimes it’s John B, when he makes a joke about JJ ending up like Luke. The Pogues laugh, because what they know of his father is only that he’s a criminal.

They don’t know he makes JJ’s life a living hell. He doesn’t want them to; he doesn’t want their pity.

It’s the times like these when he turns to the one person who looks at him like she sees him for who he’s trying to be, not who he is.

‘What?’ Y/N asks, grinning over her knee.

‘Nothing,’ mumbles JJ.

‘You’re staring.’

‘Admiring.’

Y/N rolls her eyes, going back to the textbook in her lap. She’s sitting in her chair, one of her knees pulled to her chest with an arm around it, and the other one resting on the seat with the textbook on top of it, her fingers flicking through its pages, or jotting thoughts into the notebook on her desk.

She’s not used to compliments, at least not from JJ. He’s not a very vocal person when it comes to expressing his feelings in an honest, joke-free manner, and it was something they had to work through. Now, JJ makes a point of telling her what’s on his mind, even if it’s simply how he can’t take his eyes off of her, or how he can’t believe she’s with him.

Most of the time, she thinks it’s a joke.

Most of the time, JJ understands the trends of people having had enough of him, seeing whatever it is his father sees in him, and he’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

JJ is sprawled across her bed, keeping her company as she studies. He’s in his usual attire, cargo shorts and a sleeveless top, lying in his usual spot. Lately, since she started prepping for her exams, he’s been spending more time here. It’s quiet in a way his house isn’t – people fill nearly every corner of the small space with their trinkets, but it’s never imposing. It’s all smiles, warm beverages and snacks, Y/N’s mom checking up on the two of them, her dad inviting them for dinner.

It’s quiet in a way where people who live together understand the others’ need to be alone.

‘JJ,’ he hears her voice, soft through the sleepiness. ‘You good?’

He nods. ‘How’s studying going?’

Y/N sighs pointedly, draping her arms over the back of her chair. ‘I’m done. I’m too tired to do any more today.’

‘How much have you done?’

‘Seven chapters, I think.’ She flicks through her notebook, and it brings warmth to his heart, because he knows her. ‘Seven, yeah.’

‘Then you can do one more.’

‘I’m tired,’ she complains.

JJ props himself up on his elbows, shuffling backwards until he’s pressed against the headboard, grinning at his girlfriend. ‘Just start it. You’ll have less to do tomorrow.’

She gives him a look that he’s seen enough times to know that she’s given in, because he’s right. Not only will she have less to do tomorrow, but she’s also not tired to the point where she can’t study anymore. If she were, she wouldn’t have gone through her notebook to check how much she’s done.

‘Fine. But I’m getting the cuddles.’

JJ grins, wide and bright and honest. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Y/N goes back to studying and JJ goes back to thinking, under the pretence of being on social media. Her shoulders are hunched over the book again and the desk lamp isn’t providing her with enough light, but she’d rather hurt her eyesight than to replace that particular lamp.

He knows everything about her. He knows how to tell when she’s too tired to study, what lamps she likes, how she likes her tea, how she breathes in each stage of falling asleep. He knows when they’re lying on the bed and her fingers trace the outline of his jaw, she’s falling in and out of sleep, happy to have him by her side. When her hands are on his chest, or his abs, and she’s doodling shapes on his skin, she wants more to just cuddle.

He knows how to read her mood based on the way she flicks her hair. He knows how her day’s been based on the eagerness of the kiss she gives him.

JJ Maybank is a perceptive boy, and he’s made it his mission to care for her to the best of his abilities.

He watches her stretch, arms above her head as she gives him a slight smile. She tucks her hair behind her ears, as some of it has escaped the braid she’d put it in.

Eventually, she’ll be good without him. He doesn’t know when it’s going to happen—when she’s going to realise that she’s better off without him—but he revels in the now.

Fifteen minutes later, the textbook is closed with a thud. A groan follows right after. Y/N gets up from the chair and JJ has about a second’s notice before she throws herself onto the bed, nesting her head into his chest.

‘I’m done with this shit,’ she murmurs. He feels her voice against his skin even through the fabric; it’s enough to send shivers down his spine.

‘Then rest,’ he says. ‘We’ll go get some snacks afterwards, watch a movie.’

Y/N nods, and he already feels her dozing off.

JJ closes his eyes, wishing he could relax like she did. He takes one of her hands into his, rubbing soothing circles into her palm. His other hand is lost in her hair, massaging the scalp in slow, circular motions, the way he knows puts her to sleep with ease.

The problem with moments like these is that they’re too perfect. It’s like film, for him, showing the memories of things he’s about to lose.

this is what you can’t have, the quiet voice in the back of his mind says, the one that sounds like Luke Maybank. you could never earn something like this.

It’s called borrowed time.

She stirs against him, waking up. JJ pulls her closer into his chest and tries to forget the words his dad yelled at him this morning. He fixates on Y/N as if she’s the only thing that matters right now, and in a way, she is.

JJ breathes heavily, but she doesn’t notice. Her lips move and she mutters something he doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t think about it. His hand leaves her hair and slips underneath the back of her shirt instead, tracing circles on her bare skin.

He’ll hold her close as long as she lets him.

Some time later, she stirs again. He sees her wake, slowly and in a daze. His face is the first thing her eyes search for; he sees the sleep still in them, the tiredness from studying. He places a kiss on her forehead, as soft as he can.

‘Morning, sleeping beauty,’ he says, even though it’s nearly midnight. ‘You ready to get some snacks?’

She closes her eyes with a shake of head. Her fingers trail to his jaw and she’s tracing it again, fingers light as feathers. ‘I think I’d rather stay in bed.’

‘Want me to get them?’

‘No.’

‘Movie?’

‘I’m too tired,’ she says, and JJ can tell it’s the truth.

He places a kiss to her hair. It’s not the end of the night just yet – he knows that because she’s always the first one to say they’re going to bed. Her parents are okay with him staying over because they know how they feel about one another, and they trust them to be responsible enough. A deeper side of him suspects it might be because they have a hunch of what’s waiting for him at home, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

Moonlight is shining through the window, into the room. It’s soft and ethereal, just like every moment he’s with her.

Her laptop is still playing some music, he notices, low in the background. It’s too quiet for him to be able to tell what it is, but the sensible notes are soothing enough.

Y/N isn’t asleep. Her fingers are still beneath his chin and her heart is beating against his own, irregular. JJ wonders how many of these moments he’s got left.

He takes hold of her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it softly.

She whispers his name as if it were a secret.

He holds her fingers to his lips, brushing them with his eyes now closed.

‘I love you,’ she says, softly.

JJ doesn’t move. Y/N doesn’t move either, and he somehow manages to register that she said those words half-asleep, and hasn’t probably even registered what she’s done.

She falls asleep and he becomes wide awake. His lips are still brushing against her fingers, his hot breath fanning the knuckles. His eyes sting and he feels his nose is about to become runny, his heart is speeding up and body growing hot, but he doesn’t move.

If he moves, the moment is over, and he has to deal with it.

JJ doesn’t want to deal with it.

He knows she didn’t mean it, because she couldn’t have – he’s not the person she sees him as. He’s not as kind, or as determined, or as self-sufficient; he’s not as ready to open up as she is. It’s been long time coming, the moment where he finally admits that she deserves better than a boy who can’t even admit to his girlfriend how shitty his life is.

Now that it’s here, JJ knows that as soon as either of them moves, things will have change.

This isn’t—

fuck, he thinks, and that’s about the only coherent thought he can form.

no, comes next, and it’s far more persistent than any other. It keeps repeating until it’s the only sound he can hear, and he lets go off Y/N’s hand. He pushes her off, gently enough for it not to be rude, but pointedly enough for it to be odd.

She rubs her eyes, looking at him as if she’s just woken up.

maybe she has, he thinks. maybe she doesn’t even know she said it.

‘JJ?’

He swallows and it’s hard, and he presses his back against the headboard, both of his hands in his hair. Words escape him – he can’t think.

Y/N’s now in front of him, with her hands steadying him on his knees. He looks through her, recalling every single thing about himself he’s never told her.

how can she love someone she doesn’t even know?

He clears his throat, swallowing the emotions threatening to overflow. ‘You— Why did you say that.’

‘Oh.’ Her voice is inaudible and it’s the shape of her lips telling JJ she said anything at all – her eyes fall to her lap and her face loses colour, all in once.

The music has stopped playing. JJ wishes there was something else other than this deafening silence.

i should say i’m sorry, crosses his mind, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

am i sorry?

‘I’m sorry if it’s too soon,’ says Y/N, unable to meet his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

‘Yeah,’ he cuts her off. ‘You didn’t mean it.’

‘No, JJ—’

‘It’s alright.’

Y/N’s lips part, but no sound comes out. She’s staring at him with his face unreadable – or maybe JJ is refusing to understand whatever she’s feeling. If he tells her she didn’t mean it, that she lied, that he doesn’t need to face what happened—

‘I meant it,’ she says.

JJ shakes his head. His hands push hers off of his knees and his body stiffens when she flinches at the roughness of his action. He pushes himself halfway off the bed, not looking at her anymore.

He can’t. Not with the look in her eyes – not after she flinched at what he’d done. Not after what he’d done.

‘You don’t love me,’ he tells her. ‘It’s a lie.’

you and i are no different, son. look at her face – she’s afraid of you. you can’t blame it on me, too. this is all you.

‘I don’t know what’s gotten into you, JJ. I know I might’ve said it too soon, but this – this isn’t you.’

Her fingers are on his shoulders, rubbing them, as they’ve done countless times before. JJ resists the instinct to lean his head to the side, let his cheek rest against the back of her hand, because this is over now.

you are going to hurt her.

His eyes flutter and tears threaten to fall, but he doesn’t let them. He shakes her hands off her shoulders. He wants to turn around, to look at her, to take her face in his hands and tell her everything’s going to be okay, but he’s not a liar.

So he doesn’t.

‘You don’t love me,’ he repeats, instead. ‘You can’t.’

‘JJ—’

‘You have no idea who I am.’ His eyes are fixed on the window and the silver light shining through it – if he so much as moves his head an inch to her, he’ll fall apart. The words are coming through gritted teeth. ‘I’m not the kind person you see me as. I’m not that good. I’m my father’s son and that’s the one thing you refuse to see – and you can’t love me if you don’t see me for who I am.’

JJ spins his head to face her, and it’s so fast that she flinches, again. He doesn’t look at her so much as he looks through her – his body is cold and head filled with the noise of his blood boiling.

‘The person you think you love doesn’t exist, Y/N. He never did. You can’t live in the fairytale.’

A few moments pass in silence and it takes him a little too long to realise it isn’t a silence, at all. Y/N is breathing quietly, sniffling between every other breath or so. When he finally looks at her, she’s trembling; blood has left her face and she looks a little sick, a little faint. Her cheeks are glistening on the moonlight and the patches under her eyes red, even if her eyes are closed.

She doesn’t say anything. Her soft cries are all that fills out the room, and JJ is starting to feel their weight on his own chest.

‘I’m—’ sorry, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it.

i’m my father’s son, he recalls himself saying. Now, the words make his stomach twist in knots, and he understands why it felt wrong when she said it.

‘There’s shit about me you don’t know,’ he forces himself to say. His fingers are balled up in fists because if they weren’t, he’d reach out and hold her until she stopped crying. ‘Bad shit. Shit you wouldn’t want to deal with.’

He expects her to say something, but she doesn’t.

Y/N doesn’t hide her crying and somehow it hurts more than if she did. is this what i deserve?

‘I should go,’ he says.

She nods, and it’s the first reaction she gives him. ‘I think so, too.’

They don’t say goodbye. He picks up his things and it’s quiet; she doesn’t even so much as glance at him. Her cries are quiet but they’re persistent, and he can’t help but hate himself for doing this to her.

JJ parts his lips and he feels the words on his tongue, but he thinks of her face when he pushed her away, and nothing comes out.

His hand is on the doorknob when he hears her chuckle drily. It makes her sound almost broken, and he freezes in the spot.

‘You’re an idiot, JJ, if you think I’d be in love with someone I don’t know,’ she tells him. Her voice is hoarse and hurting, but strong, still. ‘I know about your dad. I know about your criminal record. You’re not as good at hiding shit as you think you are, you know.’

A cold shiver runs through his body. His mind falls blank, too, and his hand falls from the doorknob. He wants to turn around, to look at her, but he can’t.

It’ll break him.

Even if there are tears already streaming down his face, it’ll shatter him.

She chuckles again and his knees buckle as he leans his forehead against the wooden door. ‘I guess I’m the idiot, then,’ she says, ‘for choosing to see the best in the person I love.’

JJ presses his fist against the wood until it starts to hurt. His teeth are clenched, but a sob still escapes him.

‘Y/N…’ he begins, but no words follow.

i fucked up.

He sighs. His hand grabs the doorknob again.

but it’s for the best.

‘I think you’ve said enough,’ she tells him.

JJ grits his teeth and pushes himself through the door, and then through the hallway, and then through the main door, until he’s out, in the fresh air, and he lets out a shaky sob as he holds his hand to his mouth, muffling it.

His chest is hurting and his head is hurting and his cheeks are hurting and he feels the need to hit something, anything, because his hands feel like they’re on fire and he’s angry at the world and he’s just—

He falls to the ground, holding his knees to his chest, with only the moon to shine some light. His eyes look up to the bright spot in the sky, feeling the heartbreak as if it were an itch across his whole body – her face flashes before his eyes, her smile, then her flinching away from him, then her tear-stained cheeks, and he can no longer hold himself together.

what have i done?

★

part two

★

tagging. @jjtheangel @teenwaywardasgardian @thelocalpogue @jjmaybanky @sacredto @chasefreakinstokes @shawnssongs @drewstarkey @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @outrbank @yourlocalauthor @justawilddreamerchild @activist-af @mynamewontwork13 @sunwardsss @storiesbymads @koufaxx @drewstarkeyobx

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #outer banks fic #obx fic #my fic #my imagines #f: obx #c: jj

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pastelwitchling · 4 years

Text

Based on an anon’s lovely dream.

Also, to the forlex anon -- sorry about this. Maybe I’ll post some forlex tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest.

***

Of all the ways Forrest had imagined spending his Friday night, sitting on a hospital floor across a closed room was not one of them.

But this was where Alex was, this was where Alex wanted to be, so Forrest knew there was nothing else for it. He had left to get his boyfriend a coffee and had come back to find him in the exact same position; staring at the closed door with an almost numb expression, as if lost in thought about the man lying asleep behind it.

Forrest nudged Alex’s arm with his elbow as he sat down beside him, handing him his drink. As Alex’s fingers closed around the hot cup, his shoulders fell slightly and he exhaled deeply as if he’d been frozen this entire time and was only now thawed free.

“Thank you,” Alex muttered but did not take a sip. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, his cheeks hollowed out, his hair sticking out in messy – yet somehow perfect? – strands as Alex had run his hands through it more than once. It had been a weird night.

Forrest and Alex had been having a date in, lying on Alex’s couch, watching TV, Alex curled up on Forrest’s chest. Forrest had just leaned in for a kiss when the phone went off. Alex had said he would get rid of whoever it was, but even Forrest had heard the crying on the other end, had seen the way Alex’s brows had furrowed and his eyes had widened, how he’d put on his prosthetic and threw on his jacket, not bothering to change out of his sweats.

“Michael’s at the hospital,” Alex had said. “I – I need to go.”

It was only through sheer determination to go with him did Alex accept to have Forrest tag along. He had to be there for his boyfriend, didn’t he? He had to show that he wasn’t intimidated by Alex and Michael’s past relationship, for try as he might to deny it, Forrest wasn’t an idiot. He’d picked up on who Alex’s long time ago was a while ago. The only problem was that he’d believed it was over.

Now, however, as he watched Alex clutch his cup tighter, his eyes on Michael’s hospital door, unseeing, an unpleasant reality settled in his chest. An answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking since the night Alex had stood in front of an entire bar full of cowboys and sang a love song to someone else.

“Hey,” Forrest tried to keep his voice light, brushing back Alex’s bangs from his eyes. Alex’s eyes fluttered at the touch and Forrest’s heart ached. Bad timing, he thought. We were always just bad timing. “You should go home, get some sleep.”

Alex shook his head. “No, I – I can’t leave him.”

“He has Kyle looking after him,” Forrest said. “And his brother and sister are in the waiting room. Alex, you don’t have to be here.”

Alex said nothing a moment, then, “I can’t leave him.”

And despite it all, despite the twinge of anguish that washed over Forrest’s heart – because he’d really gotten to like this stubborn airman – he couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at his lips.

“I know you can’t,” he said softly. “Well,” he sighed, “Alex Manes, it was a fun ride.”

At this, Alex’s brows furrowed and he turned to Forrest. For the first time in hours, Alex’s eyes seemed to fall back into focus. “What?”

“I really loved getting to know you –”

“Wait, what’re you talking about? What’re you doing?” Alex asked.

Maybe it was just because it was the dead of night, but Forrest felt sad. He really saw a life with this guy, as short as their time was. Something had connected, he couldn’t really explain it, but…

Bad timing.

He straightened his shoulders and, with his small smile, said, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Alex sat up properly, setting his coffee cup on the ground. “W-Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Forrest said. “By all accounts, you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

“Then why are you breaking up with me?”

Forrest sighed, searching Alex’s face for any hope. And it was there, and that was the saddest part of all. Alex did want him, did truly like him, and yet… there was Michael, always there, in his core.

He groaned. “This would be so much easier if you weren’t so cute.”

“I don’t want to break up,” Alex said. “If it’s because we’re here, then… then, I swear, the second he wakes up –”

“Don’t,” Forrest shook his head. “Don’t force yourself to make that kind of oath. You don’t want it either.”

“I’m not in love with Michael.”

“Yes, you are,” Forrest said. “And I knew that, and I thought I could live with it, but… Alex, being apart from him will kill you, and I can’t live with that.”

“I don’t want to be apart from you!” Alex said, and Forrest fought back the desperate part of him that wanted to surge forward and kiss him.

Forrest rested his head against the wall and said nothing a moment, then, “Can you look me in the eyes… and honestly tell me that you” – he cleared his throat – “that you would rather be with me than him?”

Alex held Forrest’s gaze daringly, his chin jutted out in that stubborn way Forrest had come to like a little too much, and opened his mouth to answer. Nothing came out.

Forrest tried not to feel disappointed, but the thought of not spending anymore nights with Alex, of not waking up to his dark eyes and tousled hair after accidentally falling asleep together, of not being able to kiss him anymore or pick his brain or make him laugh or see his smile – it all kept the sad look in his eyes more than anything else had in a very long time.

Alex’s shoulders fell, resigned, his expression grieved. He shook his head. “I… Forrest, I…”

Forrest cupped Alex’s jaw and leaned in, kissing his lips softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”

Michael opened his eyes to white walls, white sheets, and a needle in his hand.

“Look at that,” someone said, and Michael looked over to see Kyle. “Sleeping beauty’s finally awake.”

“Screw you,” Michael croaked, and went into a fit of coughs.

“Serves you right,” Kyle said, even as he helped Michael sit up against his pillow.

Michael took in the IV strip, the monitors, and raised a brow.

“You know this is all useless for someone like me, right?”

Kyle sighed, writing something down on a clipboard. “It’s to keep up appearances. You have any idea how many nurses I’ve had to warn out of here? I did a blood test on myself to help your sorry ass stay secret, so how about a little gratitude?”

“Blah blah blah,” Michael rolled his eyes. “You got any nail polish remover?”

Kyle scoffed, and pulled out a small bottle from his pocket that Michael just knew had been left for him by one of his siblings. “I wouldn’t drink that right now if I were you,” he muttered.

“And why not?”

“Oh no reason,” Kyle returned the clipboard to its place at the foot of the bed. “Isobel and Max are in the waiting room. They’ll want to see you.”

“They’re still here?”

“They’re not the only ones,” he said, and nudged his chin at the door. “Alex is right outside.”

Michael had just uncapped the bottle in his hands, but before he could take a single sip, he froze. “Alex?”

“Yep,” he said. “He’s been sitting out there since you were brought in. Hasn’t moved.”

Michael swallowed. “If you’re messing with me, Valenti…”

It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes as he opened the door and stepped out. A few seconds later, Alex came in, looking exhausted but thoroughly relieved. Michael slowly set the acetone bottle aside, not daring to make any sudden moves in case it scared the airman away.

“Alex,” he said, and came up short.

Alex was in his sweats, a hoodie thrown over his Air Force t-shirt, his hair a perfect mess, his cheeks rosy and his hands trembling. In other words, he was beautiful.

“Uh – Isobel called me,” he said, hugging himself tightly. Michael wondered if it was because of the cold or something else. “She and Max are –”

“—in the waiting room,” Michael finished. “I know.”

“They’ll be up soon,” he said. “You – uh – you want me to wait outside, or –?”

“No, stay,” he blurted without thought, almost rising in his bed. He sat back down and cleared his throat. “I mean, if I want to.”

For a second, Alex looked as if he might just offer to head back home, now that he’d seen Michael was okay, but he nodded instead. “I want to.”

He sat in the small armchair next to Michael’s bed, knees pressed together, still hugging himself.

“Are you cold?” Michael asked, and Alex shook his head.

“Does it hurt? Your head?”

“A little,” Michael admitted. “I’ll get better at it next time.”

Alex pursed his lips. “So you’re gonna try again?”

“I have to,” he shrugged. “I gotta access other parts of my powers, like Max and Isobel did.”

“It didn’t hurt them like it hurt you,” Alex noted, his brows furrowed. “I wonder why.”

“Beats me,” Michael said, though secretly, he had a feeling he knew exactly why.

In trying to use his abilities, he’d been less focused on getting to know himself and his powers better, and more on being able to impress Alex, on getting him back, on his anger at Forrest – his mind had been troubled with too many thoughts, too much frustration, too much desperation to focus. In the end, he’d only hurt himself. Alex didn’t need to know that though. Michael’s troubles didn’t need to become his.

Still, it looked like Alex had enough troubles just looking at Michael sitting in a hospital bed.

“But you’re okay now?” Alex asked, his voice small. “You’re not in too much pain?”

Michael watched his eyes fill with tears and everything fell into place; his hesitation, the way he held himself, the way he sat – as if terrified that any slight move might shatter the cowboy.

Instead of answering, Michael held his arms out. Alex followed his movements and he huffed a cry before he stood and fell into Michael’s arms, wrapping his own around Michael’s shoulders.

Michael held him tightly as he cried into his shoulder. “Shh,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Isobel was crying,” Alex breathed, “when she called, I – I thought –”

Michael held onto Alex’s waist more tightly, his other hand in Alex’s hair. Alex smelled of wood and maple syrup, just like he always did, but it felt like a millennia had passed since Michael had gotten to hold him like this. He buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck, pulling Alex’s whole body in against his.

To feel his chest, his arms, his skin, his warmth – Michael felt so dizzy with his longing and desire that he thought he might faint again. When Alex pulled away, it felt as if Michael’s very soul was leaving his body, desperate to follow.

Alex wiped his face, sitting on the edge of Michael’s bed instead as Michael held onto his wrist, forbidding him from moving too far away.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said hoarsely.

“Don’t be,” Michael said. “I’d pass out a hundred times if it means we got to do that every time I woke up.”

Alex ducked his head. “Michael…”

Michael squeezed Alex’s wrist once before forcing himself to let go. “I know,” he said. “I shouldn’t talk like that. You have Forrest…” he faltered at Alex’s expression. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Alex looked away, hugging himself once more, though Michael was relieved that he wasn’t hurting himself this time. “He came with me,” he said, and Michael tried not to let his heart fall into his stomach.

“Y-Yeah? He’s waiting outside then?”

Alex shook his head, wiping at his face roughly, and Michael understood. He was happy, so happy, and he felt guilty for it, because at the same time, nothing seemed worth Alex’s tears.

“Was it because of me?”

Alex scoffed and sniffed. “Yeah, it was,” he said, and Michael felt himself crumble only until he saw the airman’s smile. “Once again, Guerin, you’ve ruined my life.”

Michael felt himself smile as he searched Alex’s face. There was no hostility there, no hatred, no blame – there never was. And Michael loved him. He loved him like he could never say.

“I’m always doing that,” he said instead.

Alex shook his head, and Michael hesitantly reached for him again. Alex bit his lower lip only for a minute before he complied, leaning into Michael’s embrace, his head on Michael’s chest as they lay in bed together. They held each other for the longest time, and Michael wondered if Kyle had taken his time getting to Max and Isobel, or if they all purposely decided to give him and Alex their time alone.

Michael was tempted to run a hand up Alex’s shirt, to pull him under the covers with him, to kiss every inch of him right here and now, but something in the way Alex sniffled and wiped at his face every so often told Michael he just wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy.

Still, that didn’t keep him from running a hand up and down Alex’s back, from pressing his lips to the top of Alex’s head, from sending his other hand down Alex’s side.

“Stop touching me like that,” Alex breathed against his collar. Michael’s hand instantly stilled.

“Does it bother you?”

Alex shook his head and moved closer to Michael so that he was completely curled up against the cowboy. Michael’s own heart hammered so painfully he thought it might jump out.

“I just… want to be here with you,” he confessed quietly. “Can’t I?”

Michael clenched his jaw, his eyes burning. If this is a dream, he silently begged, please don’t ever let me wake up.

“Yeah, Private,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms tightly around Alex. “Yeah, you can.”

#alex manes #forrest long #michael guerin #forlex #malex #forlex fic #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #christian antidormi #michael vlamis

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE

It’s never difficult to be around Hoseok or Jimin. Hobi is the actual human form of sunshine 98% of the time, and Jimin is so lovely and sweet and perfect that you wonder on a daily basis if he’s not actually an angel. You’re lucky-you always realize that-but on days like today, when you’re tired and stressed and more than a little crampy-it hits you all over again-just how lucky you actually are. Because with these two men, nothing goes unnoticed, and you never go unloved.

Or rather, Jess writes a fluffy, purely self indulgent, domestic relationship AU featuring JiHope in honor of Hobi’s birthday week. Happy Hobiuary! 💜

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, Jung Hoseok, J-Hope, Hobi, Hoseok, Park Jimin, Jimin, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Poly!BTS, Hoseok x you, Hoseok x reader, Jimin x you, Jimin x reader, Hoseok x Jimin, JiHope, Fluff

Genre: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Title: Champagne Bubbles

It had been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

As soon as you had gotten into work that morning, the vet on duty had instantly started yelling-overwhelmed and swamped by cases already-and scared of angering her any further, you hadn’t stopped running since 6 AM.

Cut to the last hour of your shift, and you had somehow managed to get every animal substance known to man on your scrubs-you were fairly certain that last rowdy patient had peed on you more than once-and you looked, and smelled, like someone who was at the end of their metaphorical rope.

However, you still had to take an exam at the nearby university before heading home, and so, throwing your coat on over your soiled clothes, you headed for the library, the world-dark when you left the apartment that morning-dark once more as the moon crested over the nearby buildings.

You failed the exam.

It was hard to drive home-what with the darkened streets and the exhausted tears starting to brim and overflow-but you managed to make it, and pulling into your spot, you allowed yourself to just sit for a moment, forehead resting forlornly on the cold steering wheel.

This day could not get worse.

Famous last words.

Cut to now, as you’re walking up the last flight of stairs to your apartment, and you start to feel the telltale cramping low in your abdomen, the kind that makes you wanna crawl in bed, throw a blanket over your head, and curl up-fetal position-around a hot bean bag.

“Dammit, why.” You groan out, reaching the landing, as you blindly dig your hand into your purse to search for your keys, a simple task, that feels like an impossible trial in your tired state.

Good thing you had been prepared and put in a tampon that morning when you had woken with the impending signs of doom and a headache.

Finally locating your keys, you unlock the door to the darkened apartment and let out a sigh of tired relief as you let your bag slide to the floor right in front of the entrance, kicking off your worn and smelly sneakers without a thought.

Well, without a thought other than getting into a hot shower and falling into your bed with a heating pad and a blanket over your head.

It’s quiet in the apartment, and you wonder briefly, if Jimin and Hobi are already asleep as you creep quietly toward the hallway. You are home a lot later than normal.

You all rise early together every day and split ways in the parking garage-you headed for the emergency vet clinic, Jimin waving cheerfully as he leaves in his old beater for his job as manager at the local coffee shop, and Hobi driving off far too fast on his scooter toward the local arts college, where he teaches dance classes.

You all usually go to bed early too, at the same time, together, but tonight, you’re far later than usual and the apartment is lacking the sunshine of Hobi’s bright smile and Jimin’s soft welcome home embrace.

Your footsteps falter at the kitchen, and suddenly, you let out an audible groan, as your eyes are drawn to the kitchen sink sitting dark in one corner.

Dammit. You still needed to do the breakfast dishes.

Shuffling across the tile of the kitchen, you turn on the hot water and let it wash over your cold, chapped hands for a moment, before your reach into the sink blindly, searching for the first dirty dish.

You glance down in surprise when-after moments of fruitless searching-you find nothing in the sink, and note, suddenly, that it is empty and spotless, the dishes already done and put away in the cabinets.

Interesting.

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on this for long however, before your tired, aching feet are leading you down the dim hallway once more, toward the safety and warmth of the bathroom and the delicious idea of hot, steaming shower for your tired and dirty body.

Pushing open the door, careful to be quiet, in case your boyfriends are truly sleeping like you think, your eyes widen once more in surprise for the second time in as many minutes.

The bathroom is softly aglow with the light of candles, the atmosphere warm and scented like roses and champagne, and in the flickering light, you note that the small bathtub in the corner has been filled to the brim with steaming, lapping water, perfumed with the oily slick of some sort of bath salt.

“What the hell-” You breathe out beneath your breath, and suddenly, you don’t feel so tired anymore, and the corners of your mouth are tilting upward in the start of a fond smile, as you observe the carefully presented scene before you.

First the dishes, and now a bath?

The boys are definitely up to something.

Shucking your heavy coat off onto the bathroom floor, you trek back the way you have just come, and without knocking, push open the door to the bedroom.

The room is dimly lit by the string of clear lights that adorn the wall above the bed-giving it a cozy and soft glow-and by the flickering of a movie playing quietly on the TV.

You lean against the door frame and take in the scene for a moment, the smile on your lips growing unwittingly bigger as you observe your boyfriends, curled up in the middle of the queen bed, piled under several blankets, looking soft and ethereal and altogether incredibly comfortable.

Jimin looks up first, large dark eyes reflecting the light from the tv screen, blonde hair ruffled in an adorable way, as if he has just taken a shower, and smiles when he sees you, eyes creasing into half moons. “Baby girl! you’re back!”

Hobi glances over at Jimin’s words, chin resting on the shorter man’s head where it lays on his chest, and offers you one his breathtaking smiles, and the room becomes a million times lighter, as if the sun has just peeked through the curtains. “Hey beautiful! Long day?”

“Incredibly.” You nod, glancing over to the movie they’re watching. Some action flick you’ve never seen. “What’d you guys do, by the way?” You ask nonchalantly, slightly teasing, as you draw your attention back to them once more.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks, sitting up now, full lips drawn into an incredibly cute pout that you struggle to resist.

“You know.” You motion vaguely over your shoulder. “First the dishes, now a bath?” You grin teasingly, shrugging, suddenly all too aware that you’re still in your stinky scrubs. “You guys must have done something really bad to suck up like this.”

“You’d think, right?” Hobi jokes back, laughing loudly, as he slides away from Jimin and stands, and you note, as he comes toward you, that he’s wearing the plaid pajama bottoms you had tried so hard to throw away last year.

He pauses in front of you, quirking his head in an endearing way, and reaches out to tuck back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Actually though,” He offers you the hint of a soft, heart shaped smile. “We just wanted to spoil you after a long day. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Give us some credit, baby.” Jimin has joined you both at the doorway now, and he yawns, reaching up to ruffle his already disheveled hair, before he shoots you a mischievous smile that makes his eyes light up. “We’re not completely dense.”

“I know.” You laugh now, and the tiredness is showing through again, straining your mirth. “Thank you.” You give them both a fond, affectionate half smile, the best you can do for now.

You have to admit, the bath is calling your name.

“Your bath is gonna get cold.” Jimin states, as if he has read your thoughts, and he leans forward, whether to push you toward the bathroom, or hug you, you don’t know, but you avoid his hold by stepping backward.

“Ew. Don’t touch me, Chim.” You wrinkle your nose as you glance down at your soiled work clothes. “I seriously think I was peed on like fifteen times today.”

Jimin’s brow crinkles, and he shoots you a teasing look of disgust. “Okay. You don’t have to twist my arm. I’ll wait till you’re clean.”

Hobi laughs, and the sound gives you the motivation you need to give them each a little grin and wave, before heading toward the bathroom and the much awaited bath.

******

The bath rejuvenates you, and by the time you return to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and skin red and raw from soaking, you feel like a completely new person.

Though you can still feel the exhaustion creeping up your bones.

The boys are back in the bed, cuddled up like before, but there is another movie going on the TV now-a chick flick-and the bedside lamp is on.

“You started another movie without me?” You ask playfully, digging through the dresser to find your pajama shorts and tank top, one hand holding the towel securely at your chest.

“You took too long.” Hobi complains around a mouthful of popcorn, his free arm looped loosely around Jimin’s shoulders. “We thought you drowned.”

“And you didn’t check to see?” You jab back, glancing over your shoulder, as you finally locate your clothes, and shoot Hobi a playful glare, eyebrow raised in the man’s direction.

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to miss the movie.”

You roll your eyes, and start to slip your now clean legs into the pajama shorts, beginning to shiver now in the cool air of the room.

“You know, baby girl.” Jimin speaks up now, and his normally lilting tones are darker, sultry, suggestively playful. You glance at him, and he raises a brow at you, teeth sunken slightly into his plush, bottom lip, as his eyes scan the naked expanse of your legs. “You could cut down on time. Just not wear anything. Merely a suggestion.”

You roll your eyes once more, and stick your tongue out at him, before pointedly holding his gaze as you finish putting on the rest of your pajama outfit.

Sliding hurriedly into the warmth of the bed next to Jimin, you are caught off guard to feel the heat of an already hot heating pad beneath the covers, and you glance over questioningly at the two men beside you.

Jimin grins in a way that makes your stomach warm with love and fondness. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think we knew.” He cocks his head at you, blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Come on, baby. You’re as easy to read as a book. And you know we keep track.”

You consider making a teasing remark in return-about them keeping a calendar or something in their phones about the dates of your period-but instead, you decide to simply utter a soft “thank you” as you situate the heating pad, and snuggle down beneath the blankets next to Jimin.

He slides his arm beneath your body and pulls you against him, and his body heat is instantly making your eyes droop slightly and a heavy feeling of comfort wash over your tired muscles as you allow your head to rest heavily on his chest, heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

You glance at the TV and recognize the movie scene that is being played.

You groan. “You guys know I hate this movie.”

“Which is why we’re watching it.” Hobi teases, letting the hand that is resting on Jimin’s shoulder flick so that his long fingers tickle your hair and the top of your head. “It’s time for you to realize what good media is, beautiful.”

“Whatever.” You grumble out, burying your face into Jimin’s side, your eyes already closing, as you breathe in the smell of him-sandalwood and vanilla and something soft that feels like home. “I’m not gonna watch it anyway.”

You feel Jimin press a kiss to the top of your head, and Hobi rest his hand on the crown of your hair, and the affectionate gestures-just to let you know they’re there, that they’ll always be there-make you feel as if you’re home.

You are home.

Because you’re so lucky. Lucky to have them both in your life. Lucky to have two people who make you feel as if home is not a place, but a feeling.

You are the luckiest.

And you realize that every single day.

But days like today-that are terrible and horrible and no good-yet still end here, curled up next to your two favorite people in the whole world, make you realize that the most.

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 4 years

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Little Seer

[Whumpee is called “boy” but is not underage, simply lacks a name... for now. Maybe if he didn’t choose such a hard to explain name he could get it in his introduction but I have no control over my disaster children.]

CW: Knives, captivity, manhandling, duct tape restraints, multiple whumpers, brief eye whump/drugging (unwanted eye drops), mind invasion, cutting on arms (not self-harm related but I’m tagging it regardless).

Word count: 3,192

[Masterlist] [Next?]

The space was cramped and musty. The boy tried to stretch his legs, to stave off the constant cramps and spasms from staying curled. Hard to do when you wake up in the closet of a second-rate hotel by the highway. The cuff on his ankle rattled against the side of the cheap cabinet. His wrists were taped behind his back, keeping him from taking the tap off his mouth. Not that he would again, not after last time.

He leaned back his head and tried to make himself comfortable. His mouth was dry and ashen, but he would just have to wait until they came back to give him water. He craved the water, but mostly the precious moments that they took the tape off his mouth. Just a few blessed times a day, in the morning to get ready, mealtime, and if they gave him water. Other than that, the duct tape over his lips was part of him.

He drifted, not really sleeping but not fully aware. He used to daydream, creating stories and other lives that he could live, but Victoria had only laughed at him when she found them. After that, they weren’t as comforting anymore, and he didn’t want to share them.

Voices. Voices muffled by the particle board. Talking loudly, but not enough for him to catch the words. Footsteps shake the ground as he wished he could squirm so far into the darkness that no one would ever see him again. No one would ever find him. No one would ever grab him and wrench him back into those rooms. Those chairs.

“Hi little Seer,” she coos as she opens the door and reaches in to grab the front of his shirt. He wishes she wouldn’t call him that. It’s not his name, but his name was stolen from him long ago, so the nickname was the closest thing he had. She uncuffs his ankle and pulls him to his feet. Blood rushes back to his legs, sending stabs of pins and needles through them. He’s unsteady, but she holds his arms and guides him to where she wants him. The room is too bright with the cheap florescent lamps. With a pull then a shove, he thuds into the wooden armchair. Adrenalin starts to rush his head, making his nose flare as he tried to control his breathing. Victoria grins and pinches his nose.

“Good, get all worked up for us. It goes quicker that way.” He twists and struggles uselessly to get away from her grip. His lungs burn and he can feel heat pushing behind the skin of his face. After a brief moment, she lets go and he wishes he could gasp for breath instead of having to scramble to get air through his nose. Tyler comes out of the bathroom and leans against the door frame.

“How many orders today?” he asked absent mindedly as he dries his hands. Victoria cuts the tape around his writs and pulls them down to tape them to the armrests, palms up. He groans internally, more and more layers of tape that will get ripped away later. Heaven forbid they get actual cuffs for his wrists. How many hotel chairs had they left sticky residue on?

“Five,” she responds as she finishes his other hand. A shudder ripples down his spine and digs into his bones. Three was his hard limit for one session, which meant this would happen multiple time today.

“Any specials?” asks Tyler as he pulls his bag from the floor and starts to gather his tools. The boy squeezes his eyes shut and hopes none are a special order. Maybe if he focuses, he can manifest it…

“Two.”

Shit. Uninvited tears well in his eyes and threaten to spill over. A hand strokes through his curly hair as he tries to shake his head. He can’t do five today, he doesn’t have the strength, they never let him truly rest.

“You’re getting popular, honey! Isn’t that great? And you’re getting fans, both our specials are from the Southwest Syndicate.” Victoria plays with his hair, scratching lightly with her acrylic nails. It would feel nice, but she already plays with his head too much; it’s all too much. “Do good with these, and they said they’ll set us up in one of their places. Wouldn’t that be nice? Not moving around from hotel to hotel?” Her voice is sweet and condescending, like she’s comforting a child that dropped their ice cream cone, not a shuddering boy that she tied to a chair.

“Where’s Vince?” Tyler asks as he sets out his tools on the side of the bed. A knife, a taser, a short length of strong rope, an eyedropper bottle, two small canisters. The tears overflow and fall from the boy’s eyes as he desperately wishes they weren’t there.

“Hell if I know. Probably buying lotto tickets somewhere.” Victoria is somewhere behind him, although she’d taken her hand off his head at this point.

“We’ll do two regular ones and the last one a special. We can finish the other ones in a second round later.” Tyler’s voice is as smooth and bored as if he was simply planning the meals for the week, not the torture of the shaking form in front of him. He moves to sit on the bed across from the boy, arranging his tools within reach. Victoria pulls out the headphones and slips them over the boy’s ears. Before they turn on, Tyler snaps his fingers in front of the boy’s face, forcing his attention to the photo he holds.

“Now, little Seer, you’re not going to look away again, are you? Gonna keep those little eyes open?” The boy nods desperately, begging with his eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s begging for, but he begs, nevertheless. The headphones are turned on, startling him. A low, masculine voice starts to speak, so loud in his ears it’s all he can hear. The rumble fills his head and digs into his mind.

It’s the man in the picture that’s only inches from his face. Details for him to focus on, find this man out of all the strangers. Pick this man out of space and time instead of himself, as he accidentally does sometimes. It’s not his fault; they’re twisting his ability to something that it’s not supposed to be. It’s not for other’s gain, but instead to protect himself when he’s in danger. Just a quick vision of his future to show him what to do when he’s threatened. The boy knows this, but it seems like it’s about the only thing that he knows for sure. He knows this is wrong. He also knows it will be so much worse if he doesn’t comply.

He locks his eyes on the picture and tries to focus on the sound of the voice as it rattles useless information. Most of the time they say insignificant things; their name, their address, work title, parent’s names, any identifying information. Sometimes they just list numbers that mean nothing to him. He studies the glossy photo of an older man in a boring black suit. He begs and pleads with his brain, Please, please just do it. Don’t make this hard on me this time. Please.

Movement in his periphery, but he doesn’t dare move his eyes from the photo. He doesn’t look at the knife, but he can feel it when it cuts into the skin of his arm. A whimper fights its way out from behind the tape, but he still doesn’t look away. Panic creeps around his mind as he stares intensely at the thinning hair, the suitcase, anything to trigger the vision. He can feel the blood circling its way around the curve of his arm, bumping along the other scars. Another slice, centimetres away from the first. His heart pounds in his chest, beating as if its going to try and escape through his throat.

Another and another, crossing over each other adding to the latticework etched into both his arms. Each slice gets deeper as Tyler starts to lose his patience. Tears stream down the boy’s face as he can feel sweat build on his forehead and his back. Desperation digs its’ claws deep, and he frantically searches the details. It was getting to be too long; Tyler was getting impatient. Danger! Danger! This is danger, goddamn it. Do it! A bead of sweat drips into the cuts, pushing his over the edge.

Like a hit to the gut, the air gets knocked out of his lungs. The world fizzles out and he’s floating. Listing, tumbling through a void with no sense of up or down. He’s lost, grappling onto something, anything to ground him. Threads slip through his fingers, fleeting and ethereal. He doesn’t have a body. He doesn’t have borders. He can feel his consciousness ooze away and stretch thin.

Sight crashes back into focus jarringly. The man eating at the large table of a fancy estate alone. The man driving a golf cart around, chatting with another man of equal age holding onto the handle attached to the roof. The man in a nursing home alone.

The real-world crashes back into vision just as sharply, as if he was slammed full force back into his body. He slumps against the back of the chair, too disoriented to even sit up straight. The room spins as the vibrant, saturated, inhuman colors shift back into normal hues, swirling and bubbling around in a way only he can see. Uneven breath catching as he tries to breath through his nose.

He can see the room around him, but it doesn’t register. All that registers is the pain in his arm and the hand that slides through his hair. The tears in his eyes feel foreign. Like he shouldn’t have a physical form but was forced into one anyway.

Without giving him time to recover, he can feel Victoria invade his mind. He can’t see her, but he can feel that she’s there. He feels her move through his memories. He can feel the tracks that she leaves like footprints. She isn’t just browsing this time; she’s searching for that vision. He tries to focus on it, to keep it in the forefront of his mind. He learned not to fight her long ago, she’ll leave when she finds what she came for. He latches onto the details, knowing they’ll be upset with him if he forgets them.

A snap like a recoil in his mind and it’s gone. It’s all gone. An empty vacuum is left in place of the memory. His panic riddled brain scrambles to fill it, short circuiting and fumbling at the space that was a memory only mere seconds ago. It needs to restart and re-evaluate, fix the files, it’s too much, too quick. It shuts down and he blacks out.

Seconds later, his nose is assaulted with a painful sensation. A heatless burn that creeps down his throat. He jerks awake again, head and arm throbbing in unison. Tyler takes the smelling salts from underneath his nose and puts them back next to the knife on the bed.

The bed. The hotel room. Tyler. It comes back to him in pieces, where he is and what’s happening.

The boy closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. He knows that this is his time to try and recover, that they won’t give him much more. He only really has the time it takes Victoria to project the memory on the TV and record it with the cheap camcorder they use. Especially today if they have five orders to fill. God, he wishes it could go back to when it was only a few visions a week, not multiple a day.

“Meh, it’s not much but it doesn’t look like his life has much more in it. Poor dude. Imagine paying all this money just to learn you’ll die a lonely old man?” Victoria laughs. The boy doesn’t even try and put the pieces of the vision back together again. That vision is gone just like the hundreds of others, and trying to get it back will only hurt and confuse him more in the long run. It’s like his brain is screaming at him, I’m not made for this! You keep messing up my files! Just stop before I can’t function anymore!

His breathing evens out and he feels those hands on his shoulders, centering him in the chair.

The second time is worse. Tyler pours salt into the fresh cuts and grinds them into his flesh until it triggers the vision. Flashes of a woman’s life and a car crash that feels like it hits the boy himself. His chest heaves miserably when he comes back to his battered body. Even the hint of Victoria in his mind crashes the delicate web of synapses. Blackness.

Soft hands this time, rubbing circles with thumbs on his temples. He wakes in stages, slowly pulled from the inky darkness. His eyes close and he tries unsuccessfully to retreat into nothingness.

It’s a delicate balance for them. Do they push him every day and grab the most money they can? Or do they take care of their asset and ensure that he can function for another day? It doesn’t help that they never ask for his opinion, or how he’s doing. If they did, maybe they would slow down.

Or they wouldn’t.

He almost wishes his breathing doesn’t return to regular. Regular breathing seems to be their cue that he’s ready for the next round. Hands come from behind him again to set his shoulders back center. He’s not, he wants to scream that he’s not ready. He can’t do it. His eyes flutter open to see Tyler’s attention fully on him, so he meets Tyler’s cold brown eyes and begs. He knows he looks pitiful, sweat dripping from his brows, shaking and crying, dark circles permanently dug into his face. His eyes are all that he has, and he learned to use them years ago. They rarely do any good, but he tries every time.

“Oh, come on. One more then you get a break, m’kay?” Tyler chides as he thumbs some tears away. The boy nods, at least there was some sort of response this time. A loose promise of relief at some later time.

The hand in his hair guides his head back until his looking up at the ceiling. The special requests are the worst, rivaling even when they try to push his limits to fill more orders in one session. Tears run down his temples, and he can start to feel his nose grow stuffy from crying. Victoria hears the sniff and her head bobs into his vision.

“Hey, hey, hey, none of that. You want to breathe, don’t you?” She smiles a sickly white smile to him, her red hair pooling around her face as she looks down on him. The florescent lights highlight her hair and allude to a false halo. He doesn’t respond. “Actually, on second thought, go ahead. It’ll go faster.”

A hand with an eyedropper appears in his vision, and he shut his eyes tight. It stings, it burns, please don’t. Please. Please don’t. A tsk. Fingers dig into the soft skin around his eye and force it open. He whines, but the drops fall anyways. Quickly, the hands shift and put that acid in the other eye. He knows its not actually acid, but it feels like it. They all know it’s not good for his eyes, hence the higher fee for special requests. More money, more danger, but also more detailed information. Whatever the liquid is, it focuses the vision and makes it stronger. Clearer.

He can feel it working as the light in the room starts to hurt his head. He blinks quickly, desperate for some sort of relief, but that only works to spread the burn more evenly around his eye. Headphones slip on again, another photo inches from his face. His vision is blurry, shapes and colors roll with the greasy film on his eyes. Even the tears that slide down his face seem to burn tracks into his skin.

Another male voice, listing locations, times, and names. This photo is not a person, but a place. An empty warehouse. He tries to focus, but his body is begging to cave into exhaustion. The lids of his eyes drift down slowly, so slowly. They close for just a moment, just of moment of reprieve from the overwhelming senses that drill into his mind.

Fingers dig into his brows and pull his eyes open once again. The world is bleary and dizzy, shifting and slanting like a ship rocked by waves. The voice echoes in his head, destroying whatever shred of himself he had left. Any shred of the person that he was before he was their Little Seer.

He can feel the hard plastic and cold metal dig into and almost under his ribs. His mind is too far gone, to panicked and desperate to even respond to the threat. All he can do is shake and accept whatever will come. Whatever will be done to him. Pray that it will be quick.

The taser needs only flick alive for a moment, seizing all control of his lungs and surging pure electricity through his veins. His eyes bulge out before they relax and a haze like silver storms clouds overtake his blown-wide pupils.

Falling, grasping, tumbling, lost.

This time, he might as well be standing in the warehouse with the men. Their stoic expressions, their rumpled and wrinkled suit jackets, their stiff posture. It’s a meeting, an exchange of some sort. The man closest to his perspective, the shortest one with standard black wire glasses has a black brief case by his side.

It’s 3:56 pm, three days in the future, far too warm for the season. The short man shifts, restless and uncomfortable. As he moves, the white button down he’s wearing shifts and a small black wire blinks into view. It’s a sting. It’s a trap.

Black cars, a mat black Jeep Wrangler with custom trim and G-140 rims and two black Lincoln Navigators with tinted window pull into view of the open cargo doors. The farthest Navigator has a dark scratch covering half of the wheel well of the back, left tire. A man in a tailored black suit steps out from the passenger side. He has long blond hair tied up in a low knot at the nape of his neck. The short, wired man’s breathing hitches slightly, only visible when seen from a specter’s perspective.

They meet in neutral ground and exchange words. Too late, the other notices the pucker of his shirt collar and the shadow of a wire. Guns are drawn, shots are fired. Neither man makes it out alive, others are wounded, only the driver of the jeep escapes. Sirens blare in the distance, but the scene is starting to slip away.

When he slams back into his body, his eyes don’t even open before blackness envelops him.

#whump #super power whump #female whumper #mind invasion #seer #multiple whumpers #oc #iwrotethis #hilton #futuresight

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