#However. I... would be okay with my current lifetime's situation‚ if I had both. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redkardinal · 4 months

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An account of my family’s current situation:

This is a very VERY long story, but I feel like I need to share.

Back in the middle of June, I got married to the love of my life. My partner (J) is the most kind, caring, intelligent, and goofy person I have had the pleasure to have a part of my life. Between the two of us we have two amazing children (R) and (K). (Not sure if it’s actually relevant to what I’m about to say, but R is actually a young adult now, but I met R when they were a teenager.) We all moved in together soon after the wedding and are working on building a beautiful future together.

However, J’s family situation has never been the greatest. They were living with their parents, first out of personal necessity, but then it eventually became clear that J’s parents depended on both J and R. This is due to two factors. J’s father, (D) is… how do I describe it… hopelessly addicted to scams. This man has lost everything to his name because he falls for any and every scam put before him, and this lifetime driven by both greed and stupidity has brought us to where we are today…

Let me go over some of the things I’ve experienced since meeting J, R and their family. D had this very nice truck that he’d taken great care of for years. But when a scammer asked him for 6 grand, D claimed he didn’t have the money to give. The scammer (Whom D called his financial advisor) said that he could get that money by selling his truck. It would be okay to sell because he would get that money back and more soon. Heck, he’d have enough to buy ten trucks! So D sold his truck, legitimately, and gave every cent to his “Financial Advisor.” Lo and behold, that money is gone.

A few months later, I get a call from J, telling me that D has been arrested. For what, we don’t know. We kept asking D what had happened, but D refuses to say. So J decides not to bail D out, but somehow, days later, D is back home. We do not know who bailed him out, just that someone did. We don’t discover why he was arrested until months later (This past December to be exact… He was arrested well over a year ago.) Turns out, he was arrested because that truck I mentioned earlier… he tried to sell it twice. Or maybe he sold it and his “financial advisor” also sold it to someone else. We don’t know the whole truth on this still.

I don’t remember if it was the sale of the truck when this happened or sometime before, but J did file for power of attorney. Yet, things did not improve. D continued to somehow lose his money to scam after scam after scam. It is weighing heavily on J, and R is getting angrier and angrier at the situation as D constantly has to come to them for cash to pay bills…. Cash that he ought to have already but, you guessed it, he stupidly lost.

So let me say that D is a very despicable person. He will be so fake kind to people to try and get on their good side, (like he has never been awful to me, but I have seen how he treats J, R and his own wife [G]) There were many times when I was visiting J at home and would hear D across the house, screaming at either R or G over nothing. (I recall one time he straight up screamed at his wife for a ridiculous amount of time because he lost his own cell phone and was blaming it on her….)

On the day J and I got married, I think that may have been the final straw. We got married on the 5 year anniversary of the day we met. It became a tradition of ours to return to the place we met every year, and since we were going to be busy with wedding things the rest of the day, we decided we would meet first thing in the morning. We go, and not ten minutes after we meet up, J gets a call from R. R is crying, with clear distress and I can hear them screaming through J’s car radio, despite being in my own car. I can also hear D pounding on R’s door, yelling incoherently at them. I hear R desperately cry out “LEAVE ME ALONE!” And J and I know what we have to do. We go back to J’s house to rescue R. We get there, and I collect R into my car and J goes to confront D. D, thinking it’s R approaching says with so much venom “What?” But upon seeing J changes his attitude to be all smiley and non-confrontational. He claims that he and R were having a minor disagreement over sodas. J, who is furious at their father, slaps him. D fights back and knocks the lens from J’s glasses. He is promptly disinvited to the wedding and we all leave. J never slept in that house again.

This did not stop D from calling J over and over saying he needed to pay the water bill (which BY THE WAY is under D’s name and therefore his responsibility, but since the dumbass has no money he relies on J to pay it.) Eventually J just pays it and doesn’t tell D until he calls again, to which J answers “I paid it.” And hangs up. We think at this point that we are just going to cut J off and have nothing more to do with him. Boy do I wish that were the case….

So about a month after we get married, it’s J’s birthday and I’m really excited to celebrate with them. But I have to go to work. At lunch time, J calls and I’m looking forward to chatting and wishing a happy birthday, but am met with. “D sold the house.” Fuck. I call my boss and leave work. I hurry to J’s former home and J is there with R and D and the new homeowner who bought the house at a lowball price in order to flip and resell…. Oh, but where’s the money that D got from the house? You already know what I’m going to say. It’s gone. To the pocket of a scammer. I should point out…. We’re 98% certain that it has been the SAME GOD DAMN SCAMMER THIS ENTIRE TIME!!!! From the moment I met D and all the god damn nonsense that he’s put J and R through, it has been the same people he’s been willingly giving all of his money to in the blind, stupid hope that he’s somehow going to become a millionaire. So how is this resolved? Well, the new homeowner, bless his motherfucking soul, is way too kind and allows D and G to basically squat there for a while until they can be placed somewhere.

I’m sure you’re wondering why the hell J hasn’t just turned their back on D and been done with him. This is entirely because of J’s mother G. She is a very kind woman. Probably the main reason why J is as sweet and caring as they are. I love this woman. I am thankful for her kindness. But she comes with her own giant garbage bag of issues…. And I do mean garbage bag almost literally. G is incredibly mentally ill. She is, as far as I know, paranoid schizophrenic, and so lost in a mental fog that she doesn’t even know what year it is. This poor woman has not been to a doctor in over 20 years. This poor woman rarely changes her clothes, wears multiple heavy coats even in the heat of summer, and takes J’s old shoes when he buys new ones, even though J is not her size. Yes, J has bought her new shoes too. This woman also ties random objects, like plastic bags, old underwear, rubber bands, all over her body… making her look twice as big under all the coats. She would “sleep” in a heap on the couch. (I’m not convinced she actually slept.) she would hide garbage in every nook and cranny in the house. She would often urinate on herself because she was possibly too scared to go to the bathroom (that is my guess anyway.) Ands what’s worse, is D treats this poor, clearly unwell woman as a servant. And I don’t know how reliable G’s word is, but she has told me that D has been violent toward her. (Which I can totally see.) But she is constantly worried about D and his wellbeing over her own because in her own head she thinks if D is appeased, it will help everyone else.

So J keeps helping because of G. And I completely understand and support this. We have tried getting APS to help, but they haven’t been the most helpful. They’ve gone out for visits and everything but haven’t really given us much as far as getting them placed anywhere. Plus G won’t leave the house. Meanwhile D is still giving whatever money he’s getting from retirement to his “financial advisor.” This is putting so much stress on J, and I’m doing what I can to keep J’s spirits up. I at least take heart in knowing that J and R no longer live there and that R is not constantly being mentally abused by their grandfather.

So let’s cut to December. J keeps getting calls from their old neighbors that D keeps falling, and screaming his head off for G to pick him up. (I should point out if I’ve forgotten to at this point that D is 74, has Parkinson’s disease and Diabetes… all of which J drives him to all of his appointments and we’ve made detailed schedules on how he is supposed to take his meds) J leaves work to handle the situation and D is taken to the ER. He’s then recommended to have PT to get his strength back, which he can do at a nursing home, which hopefully he can get permanent lodging in. OK! Great! That’s one parent potentially out of the house they no longer own. Except, no nursing home will take him because his insurance is shit and they have nowhere to discharge him to once the PT is done. Great…. So J somehow manages to get him placed somewhere for PT, not sure how, but J now needs to apply for Medicaid for D so he can fucking STAY at the nursing home… otherwise it’s going to be $175 A DAY for D to stay there. But there is a problem that J discovers…

D, on top of all the money he’s given away, has opened up at least 3 (that we know of) bank accounts with other banks, which have all had suspicious deposits sites and withdraws from several different states… none of which D resides in. (Or has ever even been to…) it all screams money laundering to us, and D is just the dumbass caught up in the middle of this. J has been busting their ass trying to get these accounts frozen and/or closed, whilst also trying to get statements from them to file with the Medicaid application which some places are being very difficult about despite J having POA over D. There’s so much fraud going on, it’s going to be difficult to get D approved for Medicaid.

Meanwhile, all this time that D has been gone, G has been alone at that house. And honestly? She seemed to be in much better spirits with D gone. (Go figure…) She even told both me and J that she hopes D never comes back… He won’t G, he won’t… but then again, neither will she. A couple weeks ago, the new house owner finally needed to take possession, so J and I had to figure something out to get G out of the house for good. APS had scheduled a doctor to come visit her in house, but it wasn’t going to be for another month. We needed G out NOW. So what can we do? Well, we convince G that she needs to go to the hospital (which regardless of the rest of the situation, she absolutely does… her leg is red and swollen.) So we manage to get her to the ER. And G is basically a ghost in the system. There is next to nothing on her medical history… DUH! She hasn’t been to a doctor in 20 years! But they manage to schedule a psychiatric evaluation for her the day we bring her and she didn’t want me or J in the room with her because she thought we were lying about things that happened to her in the past. (Well, mostly J… I was basically there to remember dates within the last 5 years…. I can’t account for a full lifetime like J can.) And somehow the hospital told us that this woman doesn’t need assisted living…

That was about two weeks ago at this point… I think their opinion has changed. Because they managed to get all the things she had tied around her body off of her, but when they left her alone and came back, they found that she had gone through the garbage to wrap more things on her body. They managed to cut off the ties she had around her fingers and found that they were wrapped so tight that it cut nearly to the bone on one of her fingers. Yeah… she doesn’t need assisted living….

As of now, she is still in the hospital, no longer in the ER, but she has a constant sitter with her to keep an eye on her. She has everything detached from her body that wasn’t supposed to be there… i think her leg and hand have healed considerably, but there aren’t any current plans for placing her anywhere at the moment I’m not sure what’s going to happen with G at this point. But if she does end up placed somewhere, we want to make sure it is not the same place as D…. So, more Medicaid and more money…

D has also been trying to ask J about our new house… our address, how big it is and stuff like that. J says “Oh, staff knows where we live. And I have a room for myself and RK, a room for R, and a room for K, and we don’t really have room for someone who has lied to me his entire life and squandered away everything he’s ever owned.” A bit harsh? Maybe. But honestly after the life D has put J through…. D deserves it. Plus I will NOT have D in my house. I will not subject my partner to that man again. I will not subject my stepchild to that again, and i will not subject my birth child to that either.

As for J and myself, we will be working with a lawyer to try and get the Medicaid applications squared away. It’s going to be expensive, so we will be taking a rather hefty financial hit…. But hopefully once we have J’s parents squared away, we can finally breathe easy again. We have a hard, stressful time ahead of us… but we’ve been dealing with this stress for a while now.

If you stuck with me to the end of this, thank you. It’s kind of helped to air this out a bit. I do feel like there is an end in sight to all of this, i just hope my family can get there without losing our minds….

Thanks for listening…

~RK

#personal #thoughts #venting #in laws #family problems #medicaid #nursing home

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lindszeppelin · 10 months

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Clearly you’re getting to a few folks so congrats there — not that it’s your goal because, as you repeatedly point out, this is your blog and you can say whatever tf you want and nobody has to read it.

Re the K&A eras tour spectacle… I’m gonna throw in my 2cents.

At this point I feel like about 80-90% of what I see screams PR setup with those two. But I’ll be completely blunt and say I don’t really know wtf I’m looking at. Isn’t that kind of the point? We are on the outside looking in so we don’t know what actually goes on between these two. We don’t know and we may never know — unless one of them spills the tea and that’s no doubt forbidden in such arrangements.

I have a feeling that when all this started it seemed like a fine idea for both of them. Austin probably very much needed to have someone around who could handle herself on a red carpet and wasn’t expecting a lifetime commitment (in that case, youth a definite plus). I believe they are both avid readers, they have fame and celebrity in common, they understand themselves as commodities of the entertainment industry, they both travel for work, etc. My point is they would have enough shared interests and work experiences to get along nicely, and even genuinely date.

Now, I ask you, how is a 20-year-old NOT going to fall in love with him in these circumstances? We’re all gaga over him and we’ve never even gotten to hold his hand, talk to him, sit next to him, or *gasp* kiss him. Austin isn’t an asshole (by EVERYONE’s account at this point except V), so I think he’s not going to be disrespectful or cold or rude or even withhold affection from her, cameras or not.

Even if this was always a “real” relationship, it could only ever be a rebound (from both V and Elvis). Because he had just painfully ended a NINE YEAR relationship and was coming down off the most intense acting gig of his life and rushing headlong into film promotion.

But the fact that he may have benefitted from the lack of challenge and longevity of an arranged situation at that time is exactly what may be so bothersome now. How can someone as young and privileged as K provide the kind of supportive partnership that a man of substance would require? He’s been through so much more than she has. I don’t mean to suggest that famous young people don’t have pain and hardship, too. But the difference in what he has endured and what she has endured is stark.

He’s a kind human, and he can no doubt truly enjoy witnessing a bunch of people have an absolute blast at the TS concert. Despite the few moments of PDA, he looked a lot more like a big brother escorting lil sis to the concert than he looked like a man swooning over his love. And anyone who has seen a few extremely vivid photos of him and V knows that K&A simply do not click on even remotely the same level. So however it started, whatever it is, it really seems to have a limited shelf life.

Bottom line: I have no idea because I’m not either one of them and it isn’t my life, or my business. In my case the only reason I’m even thinking about them this much is because there are things in my own life I am currently desperate to avoid. That’s okay, that’s kind of a great advantage of being a fan, but I feel like a lot of people do not know how to make that distinction. That’s okay too but when you come into anon asks and insult people, you’re fucked up.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

honestly MJ my darling, im just trying to blog normal stuff in between all these asks and it seems like its never ending lol idk how this ended up spiraling the way it did but well, here we are. since you took the time to send me a well thought out ask, im going to give you a well thought out response and let that be it for tonight haha

i don't know if i would necessarily say that the point is for it to be grey area. i think personally when it comes to a relationship you're either with somebody or you're not. you're either in love with somebody or you're not. there are nuances to each of those sides on the spectrum, but generally you will know without hesitation or doubt what you're looking at. and because they keep it teetering on grey area of "are they or are they not PR?" then that is deceptive. in my opinion. the idea in PR is to keep them in the media's eye whenever often.

i absolutely agree that in the beginning austin probably was onboard with the set of facts that he was given. i mean, how can you truly know somebody that you're with and know if you're going to like them long term when he was presented with the choice? he probably thought it wasn't a horrible deal - she gets press from being seen with the new it guy and breaks into the acting world like she wants, and he gets a girl on his arm for the red carpet stuff. she probably seemed unassuming, and i highly doubt he did not know anything about the crawford/gerbers. like i said, over the period of time you start to see for real who these people are and who you're dealing with. he might have been cool in the beginning to be in the PR thing, but then as time went on and he's spending time with her and her family then the gears start forming. and the "oh shit, im in a bind here" starts to crop up.

and yes you're right, what young person wouldn't want to be in that deal? she dates the hot new guy on the block and gets press from it, then moves on to the next. cookie cutter process. austin was only in genuine relationships, how the hell would he know that this would turn out to be a disaster (or ZIZZASTER as grandma lois would say). austin is a very nice guy, and to your point exactly, he would not be outright rude to her. does he walk away from her, wear a mask and disguise around her, and other such things he does as his own form of acting out? yes, i think it's safe to say that austin doing what he can to distance himself from her in a respectful way is his way of saying "i do not agree with this, nor do i want to be here".

you are also correct with this point - how can a young girl like her know how to provide and support a grown ass man of his caliber? she doesn't, simply. she has never dated anybody like austin before, and she is simply not experienced enough in life to know how to do that yet.

and big bro escorting little sis is right. i also saw it as he looked like her bodyguard hanging around while she does her thing lol. or babysitting gig. he is so sweet and lovely, i just want the best for him and it's clear you and so many others do as well. im so glad you took the time to message me MJ! I always value your incredible and thoughtful insights!

#i want more MJ Ted Talks lol

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

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Who’s She? || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x doctor!reader

summary: when sam gets injured during a mission and isn’t able to go to a hospital, bucky brings him and natasha to his own home to get cared for by his girlfriend, y/n, who he’s been keeping a secret.

a/n: this is my first time writing for bucky! reblogs and replies are super appreciated! also here i'm going to pretend that bucky didn’t get snapped so you started dating during the blip and natasha didn’t die

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of blood, sam getting shot, fluff

masterlist || request

“Shit.”

He followed the sound of the gunshot to another open room within the warehouse. He watched as the group they had been fighting fled the building, hopping into their trucks and speeding away before he even had the chance to process what was happening in front of him never mind go after them. When the group dispersed out of the room he finally saw what all the commotion had been about- Sam was lying on the floor with Natasha kneeling above him at his side.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, jogging towards where the two of them were in the center of the large, open room.

Natasha looked up, her hands feeling around Sam’s shoulder, blood coating her hands.

“There’s no exit wound.” She told him finally, standing up. “We have to get him out of here.”

Bucky watched as Sam groaned, still lying on the ground, with his hand putting pressure on his shoulder.

“So, what?” Bucky asked her. “We take him to a hospital?”

Nat shook her head. “We weren’t supposed to be here. If we take him to a hospital now... they’ll find out.” She turned back to Sam. “Feel good enough to walk?” She asked him.

“I don’t know.” Sam said. “How far are we going?”

Natasha shrugged, placing her fist underneath her chin, assessing the situation.

“Well,” She told him. “We can’t go to a hospital... but I could try my best in the back of the van.”

At that, Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows with a look of fear in his eyes as he turned to look between Natasha and Bucky.

“You’re joking right?” He grimaced. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

Watching the situation play out before him, Bucky swore to himself knowing what he was about to do and partly regretting the decision before he even made it. As much as Sam could piss him off, he knew better than to let him suffer under Nat attempting to stitch him up. He couldn’t let him go through that when there was a better way.

“Shit.” Bucky shook his head, reaching his hand out to Sam to pull him up. “Fine. I know somewhere we can go.”

Natasha and Sam looked at each other, quirking their eyebrows, questioning how Bucky of all people would know somewhere to go in a situation like this. Not in a position to argue, however, Sam took his hand, standing to his feet.

“So... where are we headed?”

It had been a half an hour long drive before Bucky finally pulled the car over to the side of the road outside of an apartment building. Natasha and Sam followed his lead as he walked inside, up the stairs and unlocked one of the doors with his set of keys.

Hearing the key turning in the lock and commotion outside your apartment door, you spun around from your seat on the couch watching as you boyfriend, Bucky walked in the door of your shared apartment.

“You were gone for so long you almost had me wor-”

Before you could finish your sentence you watched as none other than Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff made their way through the door of your apartment. Although you had never been introduced, you recognized them immediately as members of the famous group of Avengers and coworkers of your boyfriend.

You sprung up from your seat immediately upon seeing these unfamiliar familiar faces. That’s when you noticed the blood coating the upper half of Sam’s suit and Natasha’s hands. Your eyes shot open wide, turning to face Bucky.

“James?” You said his name slowly.

“He got shot. There was nowhere else we could go, Y/n.” He told you. “You can fix it right?”

You made your way around the couch, rushing to Sam’s side and guiding him to sit on the cushions, continuing your conversation with Bucky all the while.

“I work in the maternity ward, Buck.” You reminded him.

Sam’s mouth dropped and Natasha, still standing in the doorway watched the conversation playing out between you and Bucky, still unsure of who you were.

Sam angled his neck to face Bucky from his seat on the couch. “You took me to a gynecologist?”

“She’s a doctor!” Bucky shouted at Sam, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“A maternity doctor!” Sam shouted back. “Do I look like-”

“If you don't want her help then-”

“Stop it!” You shouted, breaking up the useless, unnecessary conversation between the two men. They both went silent at the sound of your raised voice, turning back to face you. “Buck, go get my kit from the bathroom, okay?”

He quickly nodded, heading out of the room. As he did, you turned to Natasha who was still standing in the doorway.

“We need to get this suit off. I can’t work through it.”

She nodded, making her way across the living room, kneeling in front of Sam. Pulling a knife out of the holster at the side of her leg, she began slicing through the shoulder of his suit so that the two of you could take it off without raising his arms, affecting the wound.

When Bucky strolled back into the room, carrying your kit in his hands, Sam turned to him while Natasha continued to slice at his suit.

“So... how come she gets to call you ‘Buck’ and I can't?” He asked.

You smiled as you opened the kit, pulled gloves over your hands and set up your materials at your side. Slipping the jacket off of his shoulders, Bucky replied.

“Because she’s my girlfriend.”

A silence hung in the room for a moment as Natasha and Sam took their time to process the words that had just come out of Bucky’s mouth. It was almost impossible for them to comprehend that he had a life outside of the business they got into or that he could care for someone in such a way. The idea of someone like Bucky living out a domestic life in his free time was unbelievable.

“Wait your... but you...” Sam stumbled through his words, turning to look between you and the grumpy, 106 year-old man he had gotten to know over the past few years. Finally he broke into a smile, chuckling. “No way.”

You laughed, grabbing a seat from your dining table and pulling it up to Sam, plopping yourself down in it. Pulling your tray of materials towards him, you smiled. “Yes way. Good to know he’s mentioned me.”

You looked over your shoulder and winked at your boyfriend who was leaning against the wall behind you, his arms crossed.

“I’m just protecting you, doll.” He smirked. “You know that.”

Natasha tore off the last piece of the suit, stepping away from Sam, sinking herself into a nearby armchair.

“Gross.” She commented at the sound of the pet name Bucky held for you.

Laughing at her comment, you leaned forward, a cotton swab with numbing jelly in your hand.

“I know, baby. I’m just messing with you.” You told your boyfriend before turning your attention back to Sam. When you noticed him eyeing you warily, you said. “You can trust me. I may work in the maternity ward, but I know what I’m doing.”

He then nodded and watched as you pressed the swab against his shoulder holding it in place. As you continued applying a light pressure, Sam finally took in your surroundings, now noticing the framed photos scattered along the walls and surfaces of you and Bucky, of Bucky and Steve from back in the day and of you and- who Sam assumed were- your friends. He didn’t know how he didn’t see all of them when he first came in, being able to realize that you and Bucky shared the space as a home.

“How did you even lock this down?” Sam asked, glancing up towards Bucky.

Natasha, kicking back in her seat laughed. “Rogers always said you were ‘quite the ladies’s man’ back in the good ol’ days, Barnes. Who knew you still had it in you?”

Rather than play into their game, Bucky rolled his eyes, sitting down on the coffee table, grumbling to himself.

Sam turned back towards you. “So what did it?”

You glanced at your wrist watch, pulling the swab off of Sam’s shoulder, tossing it to your side and instead picking up what Sam thought to have looked like a sort of tweezer as he watched.

“What do you mean?” You asked, a light smile playing on your lips.

You knew this conversation was making your boyfriend want to kick everyone out of your shared appointment and that the only thing stopping him was that you were currently taking a bullet out of one of their shoulders.

“Like what did it, you know?” Sam asked, laughing. “Was it the staring? It was the staring wasn't it? He stares all the god damn time. It pisses me right off.”

You grinned, continuing the conversation as you slipped the tweezer into Sam’s bullet wound, hoping to distract him. Once you pulled the bullet out successfully and dropped it onto the table besides you, you grabbed the materials to stitch the hole closed.

“He does stare a lot, doesn’t he?” You laughed. “You’re right though actually. I caught him staring at me at a bar and slipped him my number. I figured he was too nervous to ask for it. That was what? Two years ago now?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend.

"Yeah something like that." Bucky replied, nonchalantly.

He was trying to act casual in front of his friends. That night was two years and three months ago to the day and he knew it when you asked. Bucky Barnes wished he could forget about a lot of things in his extended lifetime, but until the day he dies he swore to himself he would never forget the night he met you. Seeing you sitting across the bar from him changed his life for the better and he never wanted that to end. So much so that little did you know that he had bought a ring for you six months ago with the help of his best friend and most trusted confidant, but until the right moment arises it continues to sit in his locked safe in your shared bedroom.

“God, man, I can’t believe you kept this a secret for that long!” Sam exclaimed before cringing as he watched you slip the needle into his skin. “And to think- I thought we were friends.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes. “We’re coworkers.”

“You know what? That hurt.” Sam shook his head, pausing, before turning back to Natasha. “You’re pretty quiet. This antique has had a secret girlfriend for two years and you’ve got nothing to say?”

At his comment, Natasha stopped staring at the pictures on the wall, instead turning back to the group.

“Two years huh?” She asked. “That means Rogers knew didn’t he?”

Suddenly Bucky was very interested in staring at his hands as a silence washed over the room. You knew Steve leaving to travel back to the past a few months ago was still a sensitive subject for your boyfriend. Despite the fact that the other Avengers- or former Avengers- knew nothing of your existence, you had met Steve more times than you could count and you knew how important his friendship was to Bucky.

“Uh... yeah.” Bucky answered finally, clearing his throat.

Saving your boyfriend from the awkward conversation surrounding a touchy subject, you finished the last of your stitches on Sam, leaning back in your seat, pulling off your gloves and dropping the materials at your side.

“There!” You announced. “All done! Just try not to move that spot too much for the next few weeks, okay?”

“That’s easier said than done.” Sam said, smiling, glancing at his stitched up wound. “Not everyone just has a metal arm that can do the job for them.”

You laughed, maneuvering your way around the couch and into the kitchen to rinse the remainders of blood from your hands in the sink. As the warm water ran on top of your hands, you felt the unmistakable cold touch of vibranium wrap around your waist. As you scrubbed your hands in the sink, a hint of a smile gracing your face, you felt your boyfriend’s other hand tuck the piece of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear.

“Thanks for doing that. I know I put you in a weird spot.” He almost whispered, leaving a light kiss on your cheek.

You heard the sound of Sam laughing at something Natasha had just said in the other room and shrugged.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck.” You said. “Honestly... I kind of liked it. Not that Sam was shot or anything obviously- that’s awful and it’s terrifying that if it were somewhere else he could’ve died- but it’s good to feel... I don’t know... needed like that.”

You turned off the faucet and the second you did, your boyfriend handed you the towel, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and stepping back to look at you.

“But you are needed?” He said, leaning on the countertop. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this or anything without you.”

You shrugged again, drying your hands.

“I know, Bucky. That’s not...” You sighed. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t know... it just kind of feels... cool.”

“Cool?” He asked, quirking his eyebrows and grinning at you while he said it.

You groaned.

“Yes! It made me feel cool!” You said, throwing the rag on the counter. “You guys are legitimate superheroes. All of you live like you’re in some action movie most days so yeah- it made me feel kind of cool to be included. Maybe you don’t notice it after all this time, but it felt exciting to me.”

He flashed you a smile, pushing himself off of the counter to rest his hands on your waist.

“So, you like heroes, huh?” He asked, clearly teasing you.

Although he was flirting by attempting to tease you for what you had just said, he admittedly felt his heart fill a bit more knowing that you thought of him as a hero.

You smiled, pulling on the dog tags that hung around his neck, teasing him right back.

“No, but I do like 106-year-old grumpy old men who have me stitch up their superhero friends.”

“I’m not grumpy.” He pouted.

“The first step is acceptance, babe.” You fake pouted, stepping back from his arms and lightly tapping him on the cheek. “Now go ask your superhero friends if they want anything to drink.”

Just as you finished your sentence you heard a shout from the other room.

“I’ll have a water if you don’t mind!”

At the sound of his voice you and Bucky turned towards each other, eyes wide.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Bucky called from the kitchen back to Sam who was sat in the living room, separated by a wall.

“Thin walls!” Sam called.

“I’d hate to be your neighbors!” Natasha added.

As tough as your boyfriend was, you watched as he became flustered, knowing the others had just heard him flirting with you in the kitchen. You laughed, patting him on the shoulder before grabbing two waters from the fridge and making your way back into the living room, handing one to each of your uninvited guests. Bucky followed behind you as you plopped yourself back down on the couch watching a conversation between Natasha, Bucky and Sam unfold.

While Bucky and Sam had a harmless argument about the mission they had just been on, you felt a soft pat on your arm and turned to see Nat facing you.

“About what you said in the kitchen-” She began.

Remembering what you had told Bucky in the kitchen minutes before about them being movie-like superheroes, you grew embarrassed.

“Oh God! I’m sorry. You really don’t have to mention it-” You said, cutting her off.

“No, seriously.” She told you. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have been able to fix him up like that. It was nice to have you there.”

As badly as you wanted to play it cool in front of her, you couldn’t help but smile. As embarrassing as you thought it was for them to hear everything you told your boyfriend in confidence, you meant every word you had said and it meant a lot for Natasha to acknowledge you in such a way.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” You smiled.

When you turned back in your seat, you noticed that the conversation between Sam and Bucky had ended and that they both were turned towards you and Natasha.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Y/n. I think I would have rather bled out then let her fix it.” Sam added and Natasha scoffed. “Hey, now that we know you exist we could use you! It’d be nice to have someone keep this robot in check.” He shrugged at your boyfriend.

Whether it was because he was genuinely enjoying himself or it was just because he was beside you, Bucky chuckled at Sam’s comment, stretching his arm over your shoulders as the two of you sat on the couch chatting with the two of them.

“I’d like that.” You laughed, leaning comfortably into your boyfriend. “Oh! Does that mean I can get a metal arm too-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, your boyfriend cut you off.

“Absolutely not.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

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goldenkirstein · 3 years

Text

there's no place I'd rather be

or alternatively, you fall in love with jean despite knowing the precarious situation

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

anonymous requested: Hello, long time reader here and glad that you open your request! Can I request a Jean x F! Reader. Reader is a Marleyan nurse who arrived with Yelena, tho she has no hate towards Eldian and feels unfair the stigmatism eldian suffers in Marley. She isnt involved in any plans just do her work. She slowly falls in love with Jean, but has to keep their relationship as she is « the ennemy ». They got secretly engaged before the rumbling. Canonverse, Fluff, slight, love. Thank you in advance ❤️❤️❤️

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.1k+

tags: fluff, some angst, manga spoilers, female reader, language, mentions of food and injuries.

a/n: dashes denote timskips

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Not so tightly, I said firmly, not to cut off my circulation.” You giggled as the man released his grip on your wrist. He looked down, ears tinted red with embarrassment.

“Sorry, got distracted.” Hazel eyes met yours, and a soft chuckle left his mouth.

You were no stranger to the commanding officer; although a great soldier, he was not immune from the occasional bar fight, which often led him to knock at your door with a pleading look and a couple of cuts and bruises that needed your attention.

Over the months, the fights got less frequent, but Jean continued to visit you, leading to the formation of an unlikely friendship. Sometimes, he would come with lunch in hand, knowing how busy you got taking care of the sick and wounded. Other times, like today, he would join you on his days off, helping you complete menial tasks around the clinic.

“You are a terrible student, Kirstein; you know that?” You stood up from the cot and began to place the gauze and antiseptic liquid in the cabinet situated above.

“Maybe you’re just a terrible teacher.” He looked up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. You whipped your head back to roll your eyes at the man before returning to the task at hand.

“I’d be careful with the choice of words; I don’t see any other nurse here who lets you follow them around like a lost puppy dog.” Closing the cabinet, you stripped the cot of the sheets, bunching them in your hands. Jean’s eyes followed your precise movements before he took the sheets out of your hand and placed them in the laundry hamper at the end of the bed.

“A puppy dog? Seriously? After helping you out at this lonesome clinic, that’s what I’m reduced to?” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning being shot.

You gave him a deadpan look before moving on to the next bed. The tall man remained in your periphery as you continued to work. The silent treatment clearly worked as a sigh left his lips. You glanced up, mouth already open to quip at him in playful annoyance, but found him running his hands through his hair— a nervous tick. You had picked up on it after cleaning his cuts when missions went wrong.

“So, next lesson, I was thinking, maybe you could teach me how to suture a wound?”

This was what he was nervous about?

“You can barely take my pulse without squeezin’ the pulp out of me; you think I’m going to trust you-”

“Okay, how about a date then.”

You blinked your eyes at him, a confused expression painting your face. There were too many complications, you thought. Sure he was attractive and kind, not to mention thoughtful, and his touch would set your skin ablaze, but he was ranked high in the military; would his superiors be okay with this?

There was no denying you did have feelings for him — a tiny part of you was squealing like a schoolgirl; you desperately wanted to lean into that part, but there could be consequences if you accepted.

Worrisome thoughts circled your mind, and you barely heard your name being called out by the man in front of you. Shaking your head to clear your mind, your focus returned to Jean, his eyebrows raised as he waited with bated breath for your response.

It’s just one date.

It could mean nothing.

There’s no harm in saying yes.

“Um, it’s fine if you don’t-” Jean’s voice was hesitant and quiet, but he was quickly cut off when you let out a laugh.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just-you know what? Yeah, Kirstein, I’ll go on a date with you.” His demeanour changed, and you giggled at the awkwardness. “Now, I have a pile of patient files that need sorting. Think you’re up for the job?” You bit your lip as you watched the man quickly nod and follow behind your footsteps.

—

“Seriously? I mean, I don’t see it; guess puberty did you wonders, Jean.” You took a bite of the strawberry shortcake, eyes fluttering shut as the flavours filled your mouth.

“Right? I guess I was kind of a dick back then, but I swear they only just stopped calling me that.” Jean smiled as he looked over at you, enjoying the dessert. He hopelessly wanted to kiss you there and then, but he decided against it — too early for that.

“Do you miss it? Your training years?” Taking a napkin, you wiped at the corner of your mouth. The smile on Jean’s face faded away as he looked over the meadow, the setting sun casting a brilliant glow over his features. The change in his expression filled you with instant regret; you opened your mouth to utter out an apology for your carelessness but were cut off by Jean’s voice replacing the sudden silence that had taken over between the two of you.

“Yes? No? Sometimes, it feels like a different lifetime; none of us could have anticipated this. We were so young.” He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing, “Sometimes I wish we could have stayed like that for a little longer — I could have cherished it better.” His voice turned into a whisper near the end. You stayed silent before he turned back, flashing a smile at you that made your heartbeat quicken.

“Enough about me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about Marley. Tell me about it.” Jean’s eyes flickered between yours and the different slices of cake laid out on the picnic blanket. Taking a fork, he bit into the decadent cheesecake and let out a moan.

“You really want to hear about Marley? I thought you’d be sick of hearing about the place, Mr. Commanding Officer.” You giggled while he tried to grumble out a response, the food still in his mouth.

“I could never get tired of hearing about you, doll. Now, c’mon tell me.” His expression softened when he looked at you.

“Don’t do that.” You swallowed thickly, the pet name ringing in your ears.

“Do what?” He wiped the crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand, making you raise your eyebrows and suppress a laugh. He tilted his head and looked at you with a confused expression.

“Say stuff that makes me feel like I got the wind knocked out of my lungs.” You turned your face, attempting to conceal the embarrassment that had taken over your features. Shutting your eyes, you waited for him to laugh at you, but he never did. Hesitantly you turned to face him and found him staring at you, his hazel eyes sparkling.

“You want to know what my diagnosis for that is?” He leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You struggled to meet his gaze.

“What?” It came out breathy; Jean’s eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“I think you like me. Wanna know what I recommend as treatment?” He smiled when you quickly nodded at his words, the conversation you were having wiped from your mind.

The distance between the two of you closed in; his lips moulded to yours as he captured them in a tender kiss. The taste of the sweet cheesecake was still present on his lips, and you wrapped his hand around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Jean smiled against your lips before pulling away.

“Guess my lessons finally paid off, Kirstein.” A slight blush tinted Jean’s cheeks at your comment, and he grasped your free hand with his own, bringing it to his lips, peppering your knuckles with soft kisses.

—

“Are you listening?”

The Commander’s voice made you sit up straight; you offered a quick apology to them before glancing over at Jean, who was shifting in his seat.

The tension was palpable in the room as the Commander continued to explain the fragility of the situation at hand. With Eren abandoning the scouts, intense scrutiny was placed on the Commander and the Marleyan volunteers — the latter of which included you.

You stared at your hands which rested in your lap, gaze focused downward to avoid the venomous looks that were being thrown in your direction. However, it wasn’t anger that filled your chest but rather a certain heaviness. You couldn’t blame them. Centuries of mistrust and hatred fueled this. They had every right to doubt your intentions, despite them being in no way harmful or deceitful in nature.

Gathering enough courage to lift your head, you locked eyes with Jean, and your heart sank deeper into a pool of anguish.

You were a fool.

A fool for thinking that the world would spare you from the inevitable heartbreak that faced you both.

You hoped that Jean wouldn’t be able to see through the front you were putting up, trying your best to remain neutral, not to worry him during such an important meeting. He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes shifting back to Commander Hange. You knew that if you were worrying about the current predicament, there was no doubt that he probably was as well.

Shifting your focus back on your lap, you ran your thumb over your bare ring finger to soothe yourself for the remainder of the meeting.

Welcoming the cool breeze as you stepped out of the imposing building, you allowed your shoulders to relax. The momentary relief was short-lived, however, as two soldiers trailed behind your footsteps. They were getting closer and closer until you turned around and saw a familiar figure dismiss them.

Jean approached you; although his expression was stiff and stoic, his eyes still held the same tenderness for you as they did years prior. Before accompanying you through the gates and on to the stone-laden path towards your clinic, he gave you a curt nod.

You knew better than to reach out and grasp his hand, interlock your fingers together, despite the ever-growing itch you had to seek comfort in his touch.

Sparing a few glances in his direction, you saw his jaw was clenched — the meeting still heavy on his mind.

Rounding the corner, the steps leading to the clinic came into view; it was secluded enough for both of you to drop the act. You walked over and sat on the steps and watched as Jean sat next to you.

A tired sigh tumbled from his lips, hair falling in front of his face, obstructing you from seeing his pained expression. You reached over and brushed it past his ear, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder before resting your forehead against it.

The both of you sat in silence before Jean took hold of your left hand, thumb brushing over the same spot you were moments prior.

“You know, I was worried you only said yes out of pity for me. I thought you only saw me as some poor Eldian-” Raising your head from Jean’s shoulder, you watched with concern in your eyes.

“Jean, you know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“I know that, doll. I just, just, couldn’t believe you would want to marry me.” His eyes remained focused on your hand until you released it from his grasp. You moved it to his face, turning it to make him face you.

Grazing over his cheekbones, you gave him a soft smile, “I still want to. Marry you that is. Ring or not, the end of the fucking world or not, I’m still going to marry you.” Letting out a chuckle, you pressed your forehead against his.

He turned his head to kiss your palm, voice coming out as a whisper, “I can’t make any promises, and I know you’re scared, but know that I love you more than anything, darling.”

—

Smoothing your hands over your attire, for the umpteenth time doing so, you walked over to join Armin and the others from the ship’s bow.

You instantly smiled when you felt a warm hand on the small of your back, head turning to look at your husband.

“You could have spent a smidge more time fixing your hair, don’t you think so?” Jean shook his head and let out a laugh.

“Gotta look the best for my wife.” He shot you a wink, making you roll your eyes at him despite the action making your mind foggy — even now, he still managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a silly little crush.

You pushed into his side, hand snaking up his back as you approached your friends.

“Nervous?”

“You know it.” He removed himself from your side to lean into the railing, but he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you closer to his body.

Jean brought your hand to his lips before he placed a gentle kiss over the cool metal that wrapped around your finger. He flashed you a grin, “but I’m glad I have you here with me.”

a/n: this took me a long time to finish, so I apologize for it taking so long !! I hope you enjoyed it !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @clean-soap, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @conniesspringersgf, @glittrkink, @amnxsia, @kentos-kinfolk, @ally22042000, @just-that-one-kid00, @jeansbabycake, @fiaficsxo, @aracynthos

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As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this; I appreciate it lots <33

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lokislittlesigyn · 3 years

Text

Luck of the Dice - Loki x Reader [Oneshot]

Part 1 of Sigyn’s Angst-to-Fluff Drabbles

Inspired by Cozy’s Fluff-to-Angst Fun and Games!

Pairing: Platonic!Loki / gender neutral reader

Warnings: None. Except maybe some pillow fighting? Nobody gets hurt.

Author’s Note: This is probably very silly and underwhelming, but I hope it’s still enjoyable. Wanted to try writing something not-specifically-romantic. Romance is great! But you know what? Friendship is great too. <3

@lucywrites02:

A prompt for you 💔

"I lost everything and you're laughing!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It really shouldn’t have gone this far.

Then again, when you and the god of mischief were left alone in the Avengers Compound for a weekend, what could anyone expect? After all, you and Loki were close friends. Or, as close as anyone could be with the god of mischief. He had a calm and collected demeanor, usually keeping to himself. Far from the alien god-king hellbent on destruction you’d been led to expect.

No, Loki was different. And, with most people, distant. He rarely (if ever) showed his more sensitive side to anyone - except, perhaps, for you.

So, on this weekend when most of the team was out on small missions, and Tony had gone with Pepper for a press conference on the other side of the country, you and Loki were left to your own devices. You’d spent the day alone for the most part, but eventually your friend found you, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he was lonely.

You decided a proper hangout session was in order.

Eventually the ordered-in pizza was long since eaten, and a ridiculous romantic comedy you’d turned on just to hear Loki’s groans of frustration with the plot, long since watched. The two of you chatted for hours, until you suggested playing a game. Loki seemed intrigued, and agreed to play along - but not before declaring he would absolutely win. You responded with a playful scoff and “I’d like to see you try.”

Now you both sat on the floor in the main common area of the compound. Distant drones of the television, the volume of which was reduced to a whisper, sounded in the background. You sat cross-legged in your favorite pajamas, a blanket around your shoulders. Loki, clad in long, soft sweatpants and a dark green shirt you gifted him at last year’s holiday party, was settled across from you. He sipped tea from a mug - which Thor had given him at that same party. He never seemed to use it when Thor was around, but you knew it was his favorite. He was sentimental. You liked that about him.

You’d already explained the game’s rules, going through the ins and outs and technicalities, and giving him the chance to ask any questions. Although he hadn’t attended many Avengers “teamwork building” game nights, he must’ve been listening, because he caught on to the game exceptionally fast.

It all went downhill from there, however.

Okay, maybe introducing the god of mischief to Monopoly wasn’t your best idea -

But it wasn’t your worst idea either, and you’d stand by that.

Besides, most of the games at the compound were strictly for groups, and the others, far too risky. You were not about to open the Pandora’s box that was playing Uno with the god of mischief.

The two of you played had already racked up properties and utilities. But the moment Loki’s top hat playing piece hit St. James’ Place, your heart sank. He’d completed another set.

“I believe that’s mine.” Loki motioned to the property card and smiled, handing over the appropriate play-money.

You traded it for the card, grumbling slightly under your breath.

“What was that, my friend?” Loki snapped the card next to his three and a half complete property sets, along with his railroads… This just wasn’t fair.

“Nothing…” You huffed. But you still had a chance. You had Boardwalk and Park Place.

He had no idea what was coming.

“...Just thinking of how you’re going down.” You smiled.

Loki scoffed. “Oh, I’m quaking in my boots.”

The game continued. You built a few hotels, and felt much better about your prospects… Until Loki got hotels too.

It’s fine! If he lands on those, you glanced at your completed red and pink property sets, along with your prized deep blues, He’s toast. I just need to make it past the orange…

You looked at the board. Gulped.

Your poor little dog piece stood at the precipice of certain doom. Currently situated on the Electric Company, your own property, you had to roll just the right number to dodge Loki’s looming hotels. He really was ruthless.

“Any day now.” Loki smirked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I was just thinking.” You shook the dice in your hands.

“Thinking?”

“Yeah. I do that sometimes.”

“Surprising.”

You glared at him, then rolled the dice, moving your piece to - New York Avenue.

Oh, no.

Loki held out an expectant hand. You grumbled, handing him a stack of money from your hand. You were dreadfully low on cash - maybe investing in all that property wasn’t the best strategy… But how else were you supposed to win? You had to win. If the team found Loki had beat you at any game, they’d never let you live it down.

Loki rolled next, of course dodging your properties perfectly. Your next turn landed you on another one of Loki’s properties, and you forked over the necessary money with a grimace.

Loki merely chuckled, his fingers shuffling through the stack of paper to make sure everything was in order before filing them onto the plump stacks of fake bills before him. Then he rolled - dodging your properties again. You groaned out loud.

“Something wrong?” He smiled.

“No way you’re rolling so well.”

With a shrug, Loki sat back, watching you roll. “Luck of the dice, I suppose.”

“Some luck!” You rolled.

Pennsylvania Avenue.

Your fate was sealed.

Loki had bought the green properties first - of course he had - setting them up handsomely with full upgrades. You looked at the god across from you, and recognized in an instant how intensely frustrating his smug looks could be. His shoulders shook, his knuckles placed in front of his mouth.

Wait...

“You’re laughing?!” You exclaimed.

Loki chuckled, only half trying to hide it as he raised his hands in mock surprise. “Me? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffed, but it was choppy with laughter.

“You are! You’re laughing!” Your face heated up. “I lost everything and you’re laughing!” You grabbed a nearby pillow, swinging it at him. He blocked it with his arm, shooting you a devilish grin.

“Oh, come on. What did you expect? I never lose!”

“Oh? Really? You never lose?”

“Never.” Loki smirked. You glared daggers at him, never relenting with your squishy weapon, though each blow was deflected by his arm “Woah- Hey. You’re awfully violent,” Loki chuckled, “Need to sit down?”

“Shut up!”

“Perhaps a rematch?”

“Not in this lifetime!” You laughed, chucking the pillow at him and returning to your previous spot. He grabbed it, snorting with indignance.

“Attacking me will get you nowhere, you know.” Loki held the pillow aloft, flashing you a smirk. “But then again, the first stage of grief is denial, eventually leading to acceptance-”

The next pillow you tossed hit Loki square in the face. Even he laughed, though not before tossing it back at you and hitting you in the chest - you chuckled, holding it to yourself.

“Now that I’ve demolished you in that silly game, why don’t we settle down?” Loki stretched, wiping his loose black curls back from his face. “It’s late.”

You checked the time - woah, when did it get that late? “Ah, yeah, you’re right. And you get cranky when you don’t sleep, so.” You stood, stifling a yawn.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki was standing across from you, his brow furrowed.

“What? You’re always grumpy after a bad night’s sleep. You are.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snorted through his nose, though you noticed a twinge of humor in his expression. “You’re the one who’s grouchy in the mornings. Absolutely unbearable.”

“Oh, hush.”

Loki chuckled, settling onto the opposite couch.

As you snuggled onto the couch underneath your blanket, you swore to yourself you’d never play against the god of mischief again. Then again, seeing him laugh and smile so genuinely almost balanced out the annoyance of losing… Maybe you could be partners in the next team game. You had a good chance of convincing him to join, after all. He seemed to trust you.

You looked over at him. Yes, Loki must’ve trusted you, because he was already asleep on the other couch with a serene expression. He looked so calm, so… Happy. You smiled to yourself.

Maybe losing was worth it after all.

#oops! all fluff #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x reader platonic #loki x reader fluff #angst to fluff drabbles

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realcube · 3 years

Text

✦ tenya iida x reader

✦ thank you to @coledrawsstuff for the request

✦ tw mentions of death, pot noodle & f!reader

[8:49 PM]

“is that really the time?” you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth as you stared at the little timestamp in the corner of your message to your partner for your physics project — the class representative, tenya iida.

honestly, it was sheer luck that you were assigned to do this project, which would make up to 20% of your final grade, with one of the smartest students in your class, who you also happened to have a slight crush on but considering how awkward you were around each other, perhaps that had nothing to do with fortune.

but now you were texting him at ungodly hours at night! well, ungodly for him at least since iida was the one who infamously imposed the eight o’clock bedtime on everyone back when class 1-A stayed in the dorms. anyway, what would he think of you if he sees that you are staying up late and messaging him — only about the project but still — he’ll probably think you are some sort of loser that has nothing better to than message him at night-time with silly inquir-- oh, he replied.

you clicked on the notification that flashed across your screen to view the reply he sent.

[/PHOTO ID: text messages between the reader and iida that read as follows. reader says “Cool! When would you like me to drop the project off at yours? Anytime this week works for me btw!” and Iida replies “Good evening, L/N! It’s nice to hear from you. Also, would right now work for you? Starting tomorrow, I have a hero training with my father so I won’t be home. I’d understand if you are apprehensive to walk over here at night time, though. I could send a chauffer to drive you if you’d like. END ID.]

another involuntary gasp escaped your mouth. shock from both the fact that he was also up late texting you, and how he just offered that you come round to his house at such time.

you lay frozen, your mind hazy with unrelated thoughts which you had to shake off so you could focus on the issue at hand. a part of you insisted that there was something that felt wrong about going to iida’s house so late at night. but an even louder voice in your mind reasoned that it was only a brief visit to drop off your project and your safety was basically ensured. also, if not today, then you’d probably never be able to find the time to deliver the project, assuming that the ‘hero training’ he mentioned lasted longer than a day.

the mental debate you held with yourself was over quickly as you realised that the only reason it felt ‘wrong’ to visit iida so late at night was because you were generally afraid of seeing him, in fear that you’d embarrass yourself. but the hero in you screamed the loudest today, saying that you could no longer let you shyness get the best of you and if you didn’t drop it off today, there was a chance that you’d have to kiss 20% of your grade goodbye.

so without any further thought, you fingers worked on their own to type your reply.

[/PHOTO ID: a singular imessage the reader sends that reads “Okay! But there’s really no need for anything fancy. I think I’ll just hire a taxi.” END ID]

a proud smile played on your features as you finally set your phone down with a sigh, about to grab your cash and start getting ready until you noticed another pop up on your screen.

[/PHOTO ID: a singular imessage the reader is sent from iida that reads “Great! Also, the chauffeur is already on their way.” END ID]

you thought he was joking but when a person in a suit, driving a slick, navy car pulled up outside your house, the reality of the situation came crashing down on you all too late.

it was a well-know fact that Iida came from a long line of heroes so he was quite well-off, but you never thought they were this well-off. and your shock only grew when you were cowering in the black leather back seats, cradling the project against your chest, peering out the window as the car finally arrived at the iida family’s grand estate.

not only was it absolutely massive in size, everything from the tall marble pillars — or at least, designed to resemble marble — to the perfectly trimmed hedges, just screamed affluence.

this image was only furthered after the driver let you out by the imposing, and rather intimidating, double doors of the house yet your eyes remained glued to the car for another few seconds, hence you were able to watch as the vehicle drove right into huge garage tucked away at the side of the house, filled with many other automobiles, too many for you to count in the few moment you were given to gawk at it. however, all you needed to notice was how every other car was a shade of blue and the ones lined up at the front were clearly more pimped out than the rest.

you were suddenly snapped out of your trance by a tap on your shoulder, your eyes only widening more when you jolted around to meet the gaze of tenya, who’s piercing red eyes contrasted greatly with the warm smile gracing his features. “(l/n)! i’m glad to see you!” as always, his voice was loud and almost echoed off the hedges enclosing his estate. opening his arms, he planned on leaning in for a hug until you whipped out your free hand and held it out for him to shake. which he did, but his bright smile began to visibly waver.

“is that the project?” he inquired, motioning to the ring binder tucked under your arm.

“yeah.” you muttered, silently offering it out to him while mentally cringing and rebuking yourself for being so awkward about the hug. but your bustling thoughts all halted when you noticed iida’s attire as he gratefully took the project from you, “why are you wearing a suit?” you inquired, suddenly feeling quite undressed since you were under the impression that this exchange would be brief and casual so you didn’t throw on anything fancy. although, thinking back on it now, considering that iida offered to have you escorted to his house in a private car, you should’ve known that everything about the family was ‘fancy’.

his lips pressed together to form a straight line as he clutched the project tightly to his chest. recalling earlier when he first got the message that you were coming over, one of the first things he did was rush into the shower, but not before kindly asking his mother or tensei to start preparing an extra meal as he’ll be having a guest. once he hopped out of the bathroom, he changed into his favourite outfit and blow-dried his hair to style it with great precision. honestly, he felt quite giddy, like he was preparing for his first date.

but this wasn’t a date, of course! this was simply a classmate of his coming over to drop off a project! the only reason he dressed up was because he has to maintain the pristine reputation of the iida family. not because he wanted you to like him or anything. absolutely not.

eventually jolting out of his flashback, tenya blurted out, “oh, no reason.” his hand found it’s way to the back of his neck, rubbing it while being mindful not to mess up his hair. “anyway, have you had dinner yet?”

the rather random question caught you off guard slightly, but after a few moments of recollecting, you replied, “no. i was just about to heat up a pot noodle before i messaged you, though.”

by the look on tenya’s face, it was as if you had just cursed out his entire bloodline. so you were quick to try ask what the problem was, until tenya answered on his own, accompanied by rapid hand-chopping, “pot noodle? i believe those are the things kaminari would ruin the microwave with back at the dorms. i checked the ingredients on those and they contain next to no nutritional value! as a hero-in-training, your body needs the proper nourishment to become strong and you’re not going to find any of it in a ‘pot noodle’.”

lies. iida has had several pot noodles in his lifetime and everything is alright in moderation. however, this was just a ploy to convince you to stay and eat dinner with him.

“come inside, (l/n). i insist that you have dinner here as we wait for the rain to pass.” though his ploy was filled with many holes, it still worked as the driver was no where to be seen and it’s not like you could walk home, so you had no choice but to comply as he excitedly ushered you inside.

trying to be a gentleman, he offered to take your jacket from you so he could hang it up but that proved to be a challenge as you stood frozen, lips parted to form an ‘o’ shape as your new surroundings flooded over you, your only movement being the twisting of your neck as you tried to take it all in.

perhaps it was an interior design illusion, but the foyer of the house seemed larger than the whole bottom floor of the UA dorms. though, as you continued to stare, you realised that probably had to do with how it was a part of a longer, regally decorated hallway which iida was current dragging you through.

“huh?” you gasped, finally coming to your senses at the feeling of his grip on your shoulder. “where are we going?” besides his palm, your shoulders felt bare, which is how you realised that iida miraculously managed to take your jacket off you while you were stunned.

“to dinner, of course!”

he was being serious about that?! you weren’t ready to have a whole meal in his house! especially after you have seen how lavish he lives, you don’t know how to eat like a rich person!

but before you could even object to his statement, he pulled you straight into his equally stately dining room which you didn’t even have the time to admire as a lady had sprung directly in front of you. “oh! you must be tenya’s partner--”

heat rose to the boy’s face, making exaggerated chopping motions between you and his mum out of instinct, “physics partner!” he hastily corrected, voice cracking slightly.

“yes, physics partner.” she pursed her lips as she visibly tried to stifle a giggle, “well, it’s lovely to meet you. i’m tenya’s mother.” she bowed, which you were quick to reciprocate before tenya tugged you over to the dinner table so he could show you to your seat, but his actions immediately resulted in a brief rebuking from his older brother who was already seated opposite you.

“don’t manhandle our guest.”

“apologies.” tenya responded seriously to tensei’s clearly joking tone. though, to him, the idea of mistreating his guest was not a joking matter as he wanted you to feel as comfortable in his house as you would at your own.

both tenya and his mother rushed off to grab dinner as well as condiments, leaving you and tensei alone in awkward silence for a good few minutes. although, as soon as they left the room, he began trying to pick up a conversation with you without delay.

“i never thought this day would come. it’s nice to finally meet you, (l/n).”

why did he sound like a super villain? although his tone seemed far from sinister, his somewhat ominous statement resulted in a shiver running down your spine. what did he mean by ‘finally’? and how did he know your name?!

“it’s nice to meet you too.” you muttered, lowering your head to vaguely bow but also so he wouldn’t notice as you cast glances from side-to-side in search of anything suspicious.

“i’m tensei iida! although, you may know me as pro-hero ingenium. i took the--”

“no, i’ve never heard of you.”

his bright, bold smile instantaneously fell into a deadpan expression. “oh.” he breathed, the life seeming to have drained from his demeanour as he silently stared into the distance as if the gears had stopped spinning behind his eyes, leaving you with plenty of time to regret your words and shrink back in your chair.

just as you were ready to shrivel up and out of existence, the man let out a hearty chuckle, “you’re a funny one, (l/n)! it’s a treat to have you on this special day.”

a sigh of relief passed your lips at his response; the last thing you wanted to do was get off on the wrong foot with him solely due to a comment without any forethought. after you the ease had washed over you, your mind eventually processed what he had said and you were hasty to inquire, “hm? special day? what do you mean?” as you were almost certain that there was no well-known, publicly celebrated holiday today — nor did it seem to be anybody’s birthday.

tensei’s features wavered to reflect slight shock for a moment, until it went back to his default kind smile, “did tenya not tell you? hm, odd. he usually jumps at the opportunity to gush about our family history.” he joked light-heartedly, your visibly forced laugh prompting him to continue, “today’s the anniversary of the ingenium family’s first — documented — establishment. on this day, years ago, our ancestor entered the hero society, ready to save many lives and represent nobility under a name destined to be passed down for generations to come.”

you nodded along, the amazed sparkle in your eyes bringing another deep chuckle to erupt from tensei’s throat, “seriously? so your whole family is a long line of heroes which began on this date?”

“yep. usually, the celebration would be a bit more extravagant than just the three of us — four years ago we rented a palace venue to accommodate to our vast number of guests — but due to recent circumstances, we decided to tone things down. plus, our dad is busy with his hero duties. at the rate crime is increasing nowadays, i’d probably be out too if it wasn’t for my injuries.” he said, awkwardly gesturing to his wheelchair with a weak smile, “anyway, we’re glad to have you, (l/n). we told tenya he was allowed to invite over a few friends because of the occasion but refused at first, so it was such a relief when he told us that his partner was coming over; he’s speaks highly of you and honestly, you’ve exceeded all of our expectations.”

it was becoming almost impossible to hide how flustered you were since not only were you being showered by endless praise, but you also learned that apparently someone as well-rounded as iida thought highly of you.

your throat ran dry and your mind was bustling with endless worries about your appearance and questions in regards to what you have been told, though that wasn’t reflected by your dazed expression. as the silence lingering in the air became more and more penetrating, a part of you began screaming about how rude it was to remain quiet so with little to no prior thought, you stuttered out, “a-and i’m honored to be here. thank you so much for welcoming me!”

tensei wasn’t given the opportunity to reply due to iida and his mother marching in, each one cackling louder than the other, joking about incomprehensible topics as they laid down the plates of food in front the respective seats, being framed by the gleaming silver cutlery that had already been set.

“thank you so much.” you spoke up to ensure everyone at the table heard you, watching carefully as your friend delivered your meal. “it looks delic--” it took you a moment to pry your eyes off of iida’s buff stature leaning over you, but once you did, you got an eyeful of the meal you were given permission to ingest for free.

pot noodle.

it was as if you were struck down by lightening from the gloomy cloud which had been looming over you this whole time. was a nice dinner too much to ask for? i mean, they were a rich family so something new —something besides pot noodle— should’ve been the standard, right?

feeling your heart tightening your chest, you clutch your shirt, trying to hide all sign of pain from your voice, “it- it looks delicious.”

your comment brought him reassurance, resulting in iida peering over his shoulder to flash you a smile, but you only frowned when you noticed that he was having a pot noodle too; except his wasn’t in the pot either, instead it was presented in a polished porcelain plate, garnished with parsley.

“i’m so glad you like it!” it was a challenge to stay dejected when there was a bright ray of sunshine sitting next to you. “i remembered how earlier you seemed disappointed that you couldn’t have your pot noodle, so i insisted that our chefs whip something up to ensure that you feel at-home — to accompany our other dishes, of course. think of it as an appetizer.”

you were busy internally scolding yourself for expecting so much from your friend just because he came from a more affluent background, but as if on cue, your interest was piqued by his final comment, “chefs? other dishes? what do you m--” before you could complete your inquiry, a bunch of people in chef whites came flooding into the dining hall, all pushing metal trollies carrying plates, shiny cloches and bottles resembling those that hold wine.

there was tens of people, each one with a trolley that transported at least three dishes, all dashing through the dining hall to circle the table until a man — who you assumed was the head cook — halted in front of iida’s mother, popped open the wine bottle in his hands and poured her a drink, swiftly rushing off back to the kitchen as the woman brought the glass up to her lips. the other chefs tailed the man, but not before flashing the mouth-watering meal under the cloche, as if they were teasing you!

however, you were too busy shooting them slight glares to even notice that they’d discreetly slip the dish onto the table before leaving so when you finally shifted your gaze back onto the table, you almost fell off your chair at the sight of all the inviting foods spread out in front of you, the navy tablecloth almost completely hidden by the many plates.

apparently you didn’t even go to the subconscious effort of hiding your amazement as you heard your friend chuckle from beside you, “you look like you’ve never seen food before.”

your bottom lip immediately jutted out, dropping your brows to form an unimpressed look, “it’s just so much, and it all looks so good! how are the four of us gonna finish it?”

“no- i didn’t mean it in a rude way, i thought it was cute.” he muttered, his voice trailing off as you didn’t seem interested in his explanation, “well, we’ll probably save some leftovers for my father then give whatever we can to the less fortunate, and eat the rest over the course of the next few days.”

“that’s nice.” you mused, subtly trying to grab a bread roll from the plate across from you, “but i think you can only donate canned food.”

“we have plenty of that.” iida laughed, handing you the plate of bread rolls which you were clearly struggling to reach, “dig in. if there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

you flashed him a friendly smile, “thank you so much! you’re so kind, may i repay you sometime?” you weren't exactly sure what you could do that’d be of equal value to the literal feast in front of you, but that was a problem for future-(y/n) as present-(y/n) was busy enjoying the luxurious texture of the bread roll.

you both shared a knowing look of ‘repay me how?’ yet he still murmured, “i’d be delighted.” then proceeded to grab the bowl of beef stew and pour himself some.

“thank you for the food! it was delicious.” you beamed, wiping crumbs from the corner of your lip with a napkin which had been folded into the shape of crane.

“oh, it’s no problem, dear. thank you for joining us today.” iida’s mother giggled from across the table, catching the attention of the other to boy which lead to tensei erupting into laughter too while tenya tugged on the sleeve of your shirt, a sheepish grin spreading across his features, “i think you are supposed to unfold the napkin before using it.”

it was as if all the blood in your body rushed to your head since you suddenly felt light-headed as you frantically flatten the paper out of it’s crane shape, “oh, of course! i should’ve guessed.”

the other two iida’s continued to cackle, pounding their fists against the table in glee with tears poking at the corners of their eyes, “oh, tenya, you picked the right girl. she’s a hoot!”

“a riot!” his brother agreed, causing you to nod awkwardly while tenya simply scowled, replying as he placed his hand on your shoulder, “that’s not as flattering as you think it is.” tenya grunted, his aura now seeming a lot darker and moodier than before.

this reflected on the other two as they were quick to silence themselves upon noticing his unimpressed expression, shooting you apologetic looks until tenya sprung up from his chair, “i took a look at the forecast and the weather is predicted to worsen. in fact, they think a thunderstorm is on it’s way, hence i propose that (l/n) should stay the night in our guest bedroom.”

the boy paused, waiting for input from his mother who only shrugged and turned to you, “it’s up to (l/n). i have no problem with her staying over, actually i’d encourage it, for safety reasons.”

now, all eyes were on you.

tenya couldn’t help but crack a slight smile, twisting his neck to gaze excitedly down at you, “how about it, (l/n)? would you be able to stay the night?”

perhaps you should’ve lied; but from the reassuring effect of tenya’s hand on your shoulder to how his mother listed off reasons for you to stay, it was almost inevitable that you said yes and were now being escorted to your room by her.

BONUS

iida sat at the end of his bed in his pyjamas, drying his damp face with a towel, enjoying the serene atmosphere of his room until his bedroom door was slammed open, causing him to jump slightly.

“calm down, it’s just me.” tensei chuckled at the stunned look on his brother’s face before wheeling himself closer to the boy, not feeling the need to be invited in — it was only his brother’s room, after all.

“i’d appreciate it if you knocked next time.”

“um,” tensei briefly stroked his chin in thought, “no!” he grinned, once again laughing at his brother’s forced scowl until he reached the foot of the bed, “kidding. but anyway, when’s the wedding?”

“what wedding?”

“why, the wedding between you and (l/n)!”

tenya’s eyes widened at his brother’s suggestion, averting his gaze to the calendar on his right, pretending to be interested in whatever the date was but in reality, they both knew he was just trying to hide his raging blush, “what are you on about? don’t go making these sorts of jokes in front of (y/n).”

not making any promises, the older boy simply poked his brother’s cheek, “first name basis, i see.”

“stop that.”

“i saw how defensive you got over her earlier. plus, you get those icky puppy-love eyes whenever you talk about her.” his explanation only made tenya’s blush even more furious, and so the hand chopping began. “trust me. i was in your shoes not too long ago. for your information, i’m not some old man who’s never had romantic feelings before in his life; i’m well aware of what it’s like to have a crush so there’s no use trying to hide it from me any longer. i know a simp when i see one.”

“who even let you in here?!” tenya hissed, grabbing the handles of his brother’s wheelchair and pushing him out, “goodbye, ossan. come back and talk to me when you are feeling better in the head.”

“oi-” the door was slammed shut right in tensei’s face.

that was the most disrespectful he’s ever seen his brother act towards him, and he was honestly kind of impressed. “tenya’s all grown up.” he mumbled to himself, wiping an invisible tear from his eye before wheeling himself back to his own room.

#tenya x y/n #my hero academia tenya #iida x y/n #iida imagine #iida x you #iida x reader #bnha iida #boku no hero academia tenya #tenya fluff #tenya lida #mha tenya #iida tenya #tenya x you #mha iida

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

- Chapter 7 -

“Why are you covered in feathers?” Jiang Cheng asked, and then immediately afterward added, “On second thought, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

Lan Wangji checked himself over and brushed off the few feathers that had ended up on his shoulder. “Are there any others?” he asked solemnly. “They might be evidence.”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched, as Lan Wangji had intended. “I don’t want to know,” he repeated, and Lan Wangji believed it about as much as he’d believed it the first time Jiang Cheng said it – which was to say, not at all. “I don’t want to…okay, fine, tell me.”

“You don’t want to know,” Lan Wangji informed him, and Jiang Cheng looked as though he was considering strangling him. “I will explain later. For the moment, it is best to pretend as if you know nothing.”

“I really don’t know anything,” Jiang Cheng said.

“That will make pretending easier.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him, but stopped arguing, and Lan Wangji felt warmth in his belly at the instant capitulation. All of his life experiences had conspired to make Jiang Cheng an untrusting person, suspicious almost to the point of paranoia and constantly afraid of losing everything to the unknown, and yet he chose to trust Lan Wangji without question.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Jiang Cheng asked with one of his friendlier scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or not know, as the case may be?”

Lan Wangji considered for a moment. “Don’t count the number of Jiang sect disciples leaving with you,” he suggested, and Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows shot up. “Consider storming out in a fury the next time someone insults you.”

“You were right,” Jiang Cheng said. “I didn’t want to know.”

Lan Wangji heard footsteps and put his hands behind his back. “Naturally, Sect Leader Jiang is entitled to change his mind. I understand it happens often.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. “You must be struggling with coming out of seclusion, Hanguang-jun,” he remarked. “To come mucking around with the rest of us after spending so long on - avoiding worldly matters, let’s say.”

The sect leaders passing by sped up with expressions suggesting that they were dreadfully curious but did not want to get involved in a repeat of the fight that was rather infamously had throughout the Lotus Pier, with all of the attendant property damage (that they’d paid for later, but still).

Once they’d passed, Lan Wangji gave Jiang Cheng a look that suggested he did not appreciate the joke. Jiang Cheng appeared undeterred.

He also appeared, on closer examination, somewhat tired.

Lan Wangji frowned and stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You have not slept.”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng said, and realized his mistake at once – such excess vehemence meant that he was lying, and badly, too. “It’s your fault, anyway.”

“My fault?”

“Entirely your fault. I can’t eat my lunch without wondering why you’re not plucking away on your guqin the way you normally do at that hour, I can’t finish my paperwork without trying to find you to ask for your views, I can’t sleep without hearing you making noise next door…who made you fit yourself in so well at the Lotus Pier?”

“You,” Lan Wangji said dryly, ignoring the warmth he felt. Surely it was wrong to feel touched when someone’s unhealthy co-dependence with you was mentioned. “When you kidnapped me.”

“It was only technically kidnapping,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “And only at first, anyway…really, it’s no big deal. Just had a few bad nights.”

Jiang Cheng’s nights fell on a scale between decent, mediocre, bad, and genuinely horrific, and he generally only conceded that something was ‘bad’ when it fell toward the lower end of the scale – when his thoughts kept scattering like a flock of bird being chased off their perch, returning to circle around sore subjects and drill worries into his skull, when there would be blood and bile and panic and his mind would linger on anxieties he had long ago put aside in the light of day.

He hadn’t had one of those in months – and now he had had a few?

“Because I…?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “A-Ling had a temper tantrum last week,” he explained, voice low and more than a little helpless. “I think he misses you and A-Yuan, and he’s at the age for pushing his boundaries, too…he told me that his Wei-jiujiu wouldn’t have made him eat his vegetables.”

He would have, of course, Lan Wangji reflected. He remembered how Wei Wuxian had been with A-Yuan, always mercilessly teasing him. Wei Wuxian had a spine when it came to children, one that wouldn’t crack into a thousand pieces at the first sob – that was Jiang Cheng, who was all bluster and bark without the slightest bit of bite.

But that wasn’t the issue, not when Jiang Cheng’s soul was a patchwork of ragged wounds and insecurity, a lifetime of being second-best and second-loved, and on his worst days he would voice doubts that he’d even been esteemed as much as that.

By his father, by his mother, by his sister, by Wei Wuxian himself –

“Maybe he would’ve done better,” Jiang Cheng murmured, his eyes already blank with self-hatred – no doubt this was what had kept him up on those bad nights, the angry whispers of a too-fragile mind that said why did he leave me, why wasn’t I good enough, he said he’d stay by my side and then took the first chance he could to leave me behind, that said it couldn’t have been him that did all those things and betrayed me like that, no, he must have died earlier on and it was my fault for not noticing, that said if it’s all my fault then it all makes sense, it’s always because of me, no one ever stays with me.

That said if it’s my fault then it’ll happen again.

Lan Wangji did not like those nights.

“Mm,” he said mildly. “And then A-Ling would also know how to hide dirty pictures in awkward places.”

Lan Wangji had never been good at comforting people, having always been the one being comforted, and his failure to convey his feelings to Wei Wuxian during his life spoke volumes regarding his ability to communicate – but he knew Jiang Cheng.

After so long living together, he knew him.

(Jiang Cheng wasn’t the only one who had difficulty sleeping without those familiar sounds next door.)

Sure enough, Jiang Cheng choked, his eyes clearing up, and he spent the next few breaths struggling not to burst out laughing. “We’re supposed to be arguing,” he hissed at Lan Wangji, who smirked – from a distance it would certainly look as though they were arguing, Jiang Cheng’s cheeks all red and his shoulders shaking in what a stranger might mistake for rage. “You stone-faced bastard, that’s not funny.”

Lan Wangji disagreed. Jiang Cheng’s reaction was, in fact, extremely funny.

“We will need to diversify our collection of such things,” Lan Wangji said thoughtfully. “Given the inclinations of our future house guest…”

“I am not buying Mo Xuanyu pictures of – ! He can buy it himself if he wants…wait, you’re really planning to have him come with us?”

“He will die if he remains,” Lan Wangji said simply, because it was that simple. Their conversation, however brief, had been extremely informative. “And so he must not remain. We have concocted a plan.”

“We? I wasn’t involved in this.”

“Myself, and Nie Huaisang.”

Lan Wangji was expecting some sort of reaction to that – what, he wasn’t sure, possibly disbelief or ridicule or even panic that they were entrusting themselves to the most useless fop to grace the current generation of cultivators – but instead Jiang Cheng relaxed, looking pleased. “Oh, well, Nie Huaisang,” he said, as if that explained anything at all.

“You trust him?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “I don’t not trust him?” he hazarded, and seemed rather helplessly puzzled by his own ease with the situation. “He’s terrible at anything a sect heir ought to be good at, but he’ll come up with the wildest sort of things if it’s nonsense he’s after, and he usually gets his way in the end. He’s a pretty good judge as to how likely his chances at success are, too.”

“He’s smarter than he looks,” Lan Wangji agreed, his voice neutral.

“Don’t tell me you fell for his ‘who, me, a person capable of doing anything, surely not’ act,” Jiang Cheng said, looking vastly amused. Lan Wangji might normally object to such teasing, but if it got Jiang Cheng away from his dangerous self-hatred, he’d take it – even if the idea that Jiang Cheng, master of obliviousness, had correctly judged a person that he himself had misjudged seemed just plain wrong. “He just does that to anyone he thinks might squeal on him to his brother.”

Lan Wangji probably would have, too. Still, he felt that Jiang Cheng should have warned him better.

He glared.

“Second Young Master Lan has no grounds for complaining at his own lack of perception,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji noted again the presence of people in their vicinity. “It’s all that navel-gazing you do in the Cloud Recesses, no doubt – should I start to worry about A-Yuan?”

“Lan Yuan,” Lan Wangji said snippily, then added, “Lan Sizhui.”

Jin Rulan, Jiang Cheng mouthed at him, and both of them were forced to briefly avert their faces in sheer amusement. Poor Jin Ling – no one would ever call him by his courtesy name, not if even his two guardians weren’t able to keep a straight face.

(Well, comparatively speaking. Lan Wangji was well aware that his own expression of deep amusement looked, to the uninitiated, exactly like his neutral expression but for a very slight narrowing of the eyes.)

The footsteps passed, and Jiang Cheng relaxed once more. Lan Wangji was pleased to see it, but acknowledged that if they were to keep up the pretense of disliking each other, deplorable political necessity that it was, they would need to do better in the future.

“Today will be a disaster,” Lan Wangji murmured, a warning. “But beneficial in the long run. Do not take what they say to heart.”

He would not have said it if Jiang Cheng was not more fragile than usual. Normally, Jiang Cheng could, after years of practice, let insults flow off his back like water from a duck, unmoving and uncaring – he was a flawed man in many ways, Lan Wangji acknowledged, but he generally only had to make a mistake once to learn from it.

For instance, he would never again allow the poisoned words of others to interfere with those he loved.

Not when he still tormented himself for not having done more for Wei Wuxian, as if there had been more Jiang Cheng could have done without losing everything else he held dear – not even Lan Wangji, who was helplessly and hopelessly in love with Wei Wuxian and couldn’t keep himself from sometimes playing Inquiry in search of him, summoned his ghost into their lives so often as Jiang Cheng did.

“Sometimes I wonder what goes through your head,” Jiang Cheng remarked, glaring at the perceived commentary about his lack of emotional resiliency no matter how accurate. “And then I realize I don’t want to know.”

“Lying is forbidden.”

“I am not a Lan. And, yes, fine, it’s a lie. If I could crack you open and crawl into your head, I probably would, but that doesn’t make you special or anything. I’d do that to most people.”

Lan Wangji believed it – Jiang Cheng was just that insecure.

He didn’t let Jiang Cheng change the subject, though, continuing to stare at him until Jiang Cheng shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll prepare for a calamity and storm out as quickly as possible. What are they possibly going to say about me now?”

They said he was like his father.

It was usually meant as a compliment, but not always. In this case, it was the latter: the implication that Jiang Cheng would, like his father, eventually forget to care for the child he already had when another, better one came along put an especially ugly expression on his face.

As Nie Huaisang had gleefully predicted, Jin Guangshan was enraged to the point of maddening by the prank they had pulled and framed Mo Xuanyu for. Nor could he be blamed, the prank was positive infantile, and highlighted Mo Xuanyu’s relative youth and immaturity, losing his father and sect face in the process. Everyone had wanted to talk about that, about how extremely obvious it was that Mo Xuanyu’s only use was to humiliate the already legitimized Jin Guangyao, but in deference to their host they turned their conversation onto past examples like Jiang Fengmian – and, of course, the more recent example of the ongoing fight between Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji over Lan Sizhui.

Jiang Cheng had had no choice but to ignore it, no matter how his face purpled in rage at the suggestion that he might neglect either Lan Sizhui or Jin Ling in favor of the other. Still, no one had really questioned it when he left in a huff not long after in response to an extremely unfortunate comment by the ever-feckless Nie Huaisang (of course: Lan Wangji shouldn’t have doubted him) about the ability of young men to handle child-rearing, returning to the Lotus Pier in a fury with a parting shot about how the Lotus Pier, at least, did not follow the Wen sect in encouraging the indoctrination of children – a vicious and unwarrented smear regarding the Lan sect’s lectures that made Lan Qiren almost visibly see red and Lan Xichen frown but which Lan Wangji thought was rather useful to their ultimate goal.

When later it was discovered that Mo Xuanyu had apparently run away – and based on the clues that had been left behind, that he must have pulled off his escape by disguising himself as part of Jiang Cheng’s retinue – Jin Guangshan was so angry that smoke nearly poured out of his ears, to the point that Jin Guangyao hastily came up with some excuse to briefly remove him from the scene.

Nie Huaisang winked at Lan Wangji from behind his fan, looking pleased with himself, and he looked so ridiculous that Lan Wangji had to forcefully remind himself once again of his personal revelation that the second young master of Qinghe Nie was far away from being the useless waste that he presented himself as.

Far more effective a reminder, though, was Jin Guangshan’s announcement later that day that he would indulge Mo Xuanyu’s desire for a little bit of freedom – natural in a boy of that age, he’d chuckled, playing the indulgent father – by requesting that Jiang Cheng keep him for some time at the Lotus Pier to tutor his young cousin Jin Ling in the ways of Lanling Jin.

Just as Nie Huaisang had so enthusiastically and confidently said he would.

“And with Hanguang-jun there to supervise, there will be no question of misconduct,” Chifeng-zun said, nodding in approval at the proposal. “Your son and grandson will benefit twice over! I think our younger generation is stronger for having all gathered together in one place, whether learning at the Cloud Recesses or resisting the oppression of the Wen sect…”

“That requires there to be a younger generation,” someone in the crowd interjected, as they almost always did when someone of their present generation mentioned the next. “Sect Leader Nie, don’t you think it’s time you settled down?”

“Why are you looking to me?” he demanded, looking annoyed. “Zewu-jun is equally unattached, and he ranks first on the list of women’s hearts, doesn’t he?”

“On the list of young masters, of which I no longer count,” Lan Xichen stressed hastily, holding up his hands in a vain attempt to ward off the discussion topic. “At any rate, I’m far too busy to be interested in courting at the moment – anyway, wasn’t Sandu Shengshou trying to set up a match some time back?”

“Didn’t he get blackballed?” Sect Leader Qin, ever Jin Guangshan’s faithful dog, interjected, always on the look-out for a way to denigrate the other Great Sects. “I didn’t even know that was possible –”

“At least he’s demonstrated the ability to care for a child –”

Lan Wangji decided that that was an excellent time to make his escape. This was one situation in which he especially did not want to get held up as a positive comparison.

His uncle went with him.

“Very cleverly done,” Lan Qiren remarked as they strolled into one of the many gardens that peppered Lanling City and Jinlin Tower in particular, and Lan Wangji looked at him sidelong. “Matchmaking and children are the favorite subjects of old men; by the time the noise dies down, Sect Leader Jin’s decision as to his newest son will be considered as settled and unquestionable. It was good of your brother – and Chifeng-zun, of course – to throw themselves on their swords for you.”

Lan Wangji put his hands behind his back, uncomfortable. “I did not ask them to act.”

His uncle said nothing. He didn’t need to – if perhaps Chifeng-zun was somewhat opaque to them both, his sheer straightforwardness ironically enough serving to conceal any subtle thoughts he might have, Lan Xichen was as clear as a calm lake. He had jumped into the conversation at just the right moment, saying words that would only inflame the situation rather than calm it, displaying just enough dismay to be humorous without actually appearing, to those that knew him well, to be surprised at all.

“It was Nie Huaisang’s idea,” Lan Wangji added, and that did get Lan Qiren’s eyebrows to rise up in surprise. Probably wondering, just as Lan Wangji was, when exactly Nie Huaisang had had the opportunity to rope the Venerated Triad into his scheme – as far as Lan Wangji could tell, he hadn’t had any opportunity to speak to them.

Still, however intriguing the speculation was, it wasn’t enough to dissuade his uncle from his target.

“The motivation was yours,” he said, the question implicit.

“Mo Xuanyu requested Jiang Cheng’s assistance,” Lan Wangji explained. “He is – unhappy, in Lanling, and ill-suited to it. Jiang Cheng feared that he might one day bring harm upon himself if he remained.”

His uncle nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “Having him at the Lotus Pier to teach Jin Ling the ways of Lanling Jin also means that there is no urgent need for Jin Ling to return to Lanling himself. He can remain with Sect Leader Jiang.”

“Yes.”

His uncle huffed out a breath and leaned down to smell one of the flowers. “I will give you some books before you return to the Lotus Pier,” he said. “Mo Xuanyu is already past thirteen; it is not at all the same as dealing with small children. You will need to be prepared.”

Lan Wangji looked at his uncle, a little surprised. He had expected more resistance to this scheming plot, which was not at all in line with Lan sect principles.

“Mo Xuanyu is old enough to make his own decisions,” his uncle said, his eyes still fixed on the flower. “If he cannot happy here, he should go to where he can be.”

Lan Wangji’s heart trembled within his chest. He’d thought – his uncle, who had led the charge at the Burial Mounds, who had been the most disappointed at all of his choices–

“I am sorry that we did not suit you, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji exhaled, hard, feeling a stinging feeling in his eyes and nose.

He had not expected an apology.

It didn’t change everything all at once, of course. He was still angry, still spiteful, still furious, fill of bile and bone-deep rage at how his own family had so thoroughly failed to trust in him that they would take away even his right to choose. His belly was heavy with his resentment at how they disapproved of him, how they were ashamed of him, and it would take more than mere words to liberate him from it.

But still, he had to admit – there was something more complicated about it now.

It had been easier, he thought, to be merely angry.

“It was not you,” he said, a small concession. “If the circumstances were different, I could have lived my whole life at the Cloud Recesses with no dissatisfaction.”

“But they aren’t,” his uncle said, bowing his head in understanding. “And you can’t. I – do not understand, and I do not like it, but that is not necessary. It is still my dearest wish for you to be happy and safe.”

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure that being truly happy was possible in a world that lacked Wei Wuxian – a world his uncle had helped bring about with his own two hands – but he knew that the life he had built with Jiang Cheng in the Lotus Pier, warm and tightly packed and full of worries as it was, was as close as he would come, and a life of solitude and distance and tranquility at the Cloud Recesses would only be worse.

“I have another month left before I return,” he pointed out, seeking to change the subject.

“Not after that conversation,” Lan Qiren said, looking reluctantly amused. “You will be sent to the Lotus Pier as soon as can be managed to make sure that everyone is being properly supervised.”

“Jiang Cheng can supervise.”

“Jiang Wanyin won’t.”

Lan Wangji bowed his head to hide a smile. His uncle wasn’t wrong.

And he had to admit - he wouldn’t miss Jiang Cheng dealing with a teenager for the world.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #lan qiren #nie mingjue #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #delight in misery

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whitehotharlots · 3 years

Text

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris. Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City. I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago. In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her. The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class. "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later. "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend. Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two. Cops came in and pulled him out of class. Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody. From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris. No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing. This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search. The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy. He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment.

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab. Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie.

It was his first offense. He was 16.

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad. He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework. She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he? They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his.

What really fucked with him was rehab. It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time: he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions. Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie. Yes, he said, he was an addict. Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic." His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday? Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of? Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right? No? Well you see right there that's a part of the problem. Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own. No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out.

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend. All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4. It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays. The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it. 'When would you go to church?' he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems. One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful. Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work. But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed. Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy.

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough. If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake. During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back. Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence.

"It's not the drugs: it's the high," the man said. He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius. He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense. And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him. The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room. His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked. Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer. Chris kept looking down. His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness. Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat. If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad. But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up. Now."

He did. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face. Soak it up. Take it all in. Done? Give you another second. Okay, now you're done. This, people, is what failure looks like. Some of you will see it again, right here. This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face. It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes. By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him. Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows. Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet. And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines. His mom was making time with the addicts. This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence. He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view. He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back. All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car. All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made. Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him. Really, wow. Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen, it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met. "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him. Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high. What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times. Vicodin, right. Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire. That's right. Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot. Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day. Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth. His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?" Stepfather laughed. Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth. Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd. People clapped a little bit. Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red. A stack of certificates sat on the table up front. The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance. He looked all business. There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again. Arrested in front of his parents.

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it. That's all it was. Nothing to get too upset about. Still—gotta stay calm. If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high.

"Well," the overseer began. Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat. He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut. When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful. Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either. Talked about his wife and kids all the time. This was an act. He had measured out this persona for himself. This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself. Pot fucks up the way you think about things. How long had it been since they sat down? How long since he'd been scared by the cops? When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking. Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces. Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends. The selfishness might end here. The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here. But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long. Wanted people to clap for him. They did. Then they finished. He continued. His tone was different. He had sounded like he was reading off a card. Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon. Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh. Okay. That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day. He wasn't even here. Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah.

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative. He didn't come. But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come… but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned. He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings. The air shifted around Chris. It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance. The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it. Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him. In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear. He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process.

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized. He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage. When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her. He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen: because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it. What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison. That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time. And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction. That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course. You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together. On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else. They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all. No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise. That had two positives: one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him. Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching. That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction. Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block. He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something. His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings. Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit. He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid. He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody. He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair. This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things. More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive. Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try. At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it. That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me. I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed. This made him a blast to hang out with. This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family. My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach. Most of her friends soon followed suit. He was left behind. As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around. Not by much. He still drinks far too much. But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student.

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manndo · 3 years

Text

not today, but someday [oberyn martell x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: oberyn martell x female!reader

warning[s]: 18+ due to heavily implied sexual content (no actually smut), sexual references/situations, mentions of breeding (in reference to conceiving a child), swearing; talks of pregnancy & the inability to conceive; fluff; angst; oberyn being oberyn (is that a warning??); no mention of ellaria; possible inaccuracies about got (see notes)

word count: 5.4k (ummmm, whoops?)

prompt[s]: none.

summary: all you had ever wanted was a little one, a child to call your own. and yet, months later, you were still without child. still barren, and your dream of becoming a mother seemed to be slipping away.

author’s notes: okay, so, let me start off saying this -- oberyn martell has taken over my life and i have spent much time yearning over him. and, in doing so, i got this idea one day because, as we know, oberyn had eight daughters. so, i thought, what if he had a s/o who could not seem to conceive? hence, this fic. but, i have never watched an episode of got in my life. i have seen his scenes (besides, you know, that scene because in my head, oberyn is alive and well and having all the berries and orgies he wants & i just can’t handle that much violence) and i have read some articles about the show, seen the gifs/posts on tumblr, and talked to people who have watched it in the past eight+ years. but that the extent of my knowledge of got. so, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that this fic holds. and i hope that my characterization of oberyn is good. also, no ellaria -- i just did not feel like she fit in this in anyway possible, and i did not want to force her into the story, so to speak. well, i think that is it! so, on with the show! all mistakes are my own. comments/reblogs/likes are much appreciated. thank you! ❤️

“I am sorry, m’lady.”

You did not know what else you were expecting. You knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. You did not need the maester to tell you that you were still without child — you knew. But, Oberyn had instead you call up on them, and you were too tired to argue. You also hoped you were wrong, and Gods did you want to be wrong. But, you were not.

You plastered on a polite smile for the maester. “It’s quite alright,” you said, your voice tight as you forced your emotions down. You weren’t going to shed any tears in front of the maester; you would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, save for your husband. You nodded your head toward the door. “That’ll be all. Good day.” The maester bowed lowly before turning on their heel and exiting, the large wooden door shutting with a resounding, empty thud.

The sound echoed in your head and heart; it seeped into your veins, and began to settle in your bones. The sound felt like a finality of sorts. An ending before anything could even begin.

A short, broken sob escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound from breaking free. However, it did not matter — the dam had broken, the heartache released. Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm as you squeezed your eyes closed, and laid down on your bed. Your body curling into itself as tears easily flowed down your cheeks, staining them. You felt as if your body was turning on you, tearing you apart at the seams as you shook violently with your cries.

For eight months now, the two of you had been actively trying for a babe, an heir for Oberyn. Not that he himself required an heir — he had eight beautiful daughters, his Sand Snakes, whom he loved dearly no matter their status. But, when the two of you had been wed over a year ago, there had been an unspoken expectation placed upon you both. Oberyn paid no mind, and told you to do the same, but that was easier said than done.

You had always wanted to be a mother, wanting to have babe upon babe running around, mucking up your home and tugging at your skirts. To watch them grow and prosper, becoming handsome young lads and beautiful young ladies, all whom would be intelligent and strong, but caring and kind. To have your legacy, no matter how small or large it would be, live on thorough them. Perhaps there was a small sense of duty, as a woman, that made you yearn to have children. But, you knew that was not the whole picture. Children were beautiful, wonderful, and loving. They were gifts, and you want to have those gifts, to cherish and love them till you were dead and buried. You wanted it, with all your heart, and yet, it seemed like fate was delivering you a cruel hand.

There had been, one fleeting moment in the very beginning of your wedded bliss, where you were positively sure you were with child. You had been so sure, so eager to see the maester; however, you had quickly been proven wrong by your own body betraying you. You’d spent the day in your chambers, unwilling to leave for any reason. Oberyn had found you curled deep in your silken sheets that evening, and try as he might with his quiet, reassuring words, he was unable to pull you from your depressive state. So, he had held you — silently, but tightly, pressing soft kisses across your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. He let his fingertips brush against your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns across your hips, your stomach, your chest, anywhere he could reach. His touches were light, and his movements were sluggish. He comforted you silently, the best way he knew how, and you allowed him to do so. It hadn’t eased the pain completely, but it had been enough.

But, slowly, the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and nothing changed. It did not matter that the two of you had stopped bringing others into your bed to focus solely on each other, for Oberyn to focus solely on you. Nor, did it matter how many times he filled you with his seed, or how willing and open you were to taking what he offered. It did not matter day, afternoon, or night. Nothing mattered. Because here you were, still without child. Barren.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as the tears flowed and the sobs continued to wrack your body as you laid curled in your marriage bed. Your hand maiden had knocked on the door at one point, but you had been quick to dismiss her before she could enter and find you in your current state. She had not come back and you were grateful.

But then, finally, everything came to a standstill; the tears you had been crying seemed to dry up, and your body had stopped trembling. You took a deep, shuddering breath and unfurled yourself, allowing your limbs to stretch out across the sheets. The tears were still clinging to the corners of your eyes, but most of them had already dried and stained your cheeks and neck. You pushed yourself to sit on the side of your bed, and roughly wiped away at your face, brushing away the outward sings of your heartache. You silently wished you could easily wipe away the heartache in your chest, too. The one that had buried itself so deeply in there.

You hadn’t even noticed the door to your chambers opening, didn’t even hear a voice calling out to you. It was only when the door shut — that hollow, empty thud — that you were brought back, your head whipping toward the sound. “Oberyn,” you said, your voice soft, a breathless whisper. He wasn’t supposed to be here; from what you recalled, he was supposed to be kept busy with mundane princely duties (his words, not yours). You weren’t supposed to see him till this evening — and from the way the sun was peeking through the curtains, it could only be mid afternoon — which would have given you plenty of time to steel yourself. To gather yourself together, lock your heartache and pain away before delivering the news. To pretend that it didn’t cut into your soul, didn’t rip you apart from the inside out. “What are you—”

“I had a free moment,” he said, making his way toward you, his golden robes flowing effortless around him. There was a smile playing at his lips, which told you that he actually did not have a moment — he made a moment to come and see you.

You felt the heartache clawing at your throat, fighting to be released.

Quickly, you pushed yourself to stand, and turned away from him in a futile attempt to hide your face. He would come closer; he would see your pain, your sorrow. Because, though you had wiped away the tears and the stains they had left behind on your cheeks, your eyes were still red and puffy. The pain and heartache still lingering behind your eyes.

God, you had hoped to have more time, more time before you had to tell him. Before you had to watch the sadness and disappointment appear, filling his rich, beautiful brown eyes. You wanted more time.

A pragmatic pause. “Love,” he said, his voice sounding strained, painful. Your actions had spoken louder than words, it seemed.

You could feel a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, your hand grasping at the dress clinging loosely to your side. You fisted the fabric tightly and closed your eyes, willing yours tears to stay put, to not fall. You heard Oberyn call out for you again, this time your birth name falling from his lips just before you felt him come closer. He hadn’t touched you, not yet, but you could feel his presence only mere inches behind you.

“Love,” Oberyn whispered once more, this time as you felt his hand wrap gently around the fist at your side, the other coming to wrap around your waist. “I am—”

“Don’t,” you breathed out, the word sounding more like a broken sob than anything coherent. You broke away from Oberyn, and thankfully, he let you go. “I cannot bare another I am sorry, especially from you, husband,” you said, your voice harsher than you had intended, angrier. Not at him, no, you could never be angry with Oberyn. No, you were angry at yourself. This was your fault; you were defective, broken, unable to provide him and yourself with the one thing you had so desperately wished for. “I have heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime.”

You felt his fingertips brush gently against your arm, the lightest of touches, barely there. A soft gesture to tell you he was there, and that he would not leave. You took a shaky breath, and loosened the grip on the fabric in your hand, letting the dress fall back against you. “There is no rush, my love,” he said, his voice soft and tentative, as if he knew he was treading rough water. And, he was.

A choked chuckle escaped your lips, and you turned to face your husband. “For you, perhaps,” you said, letting your eyes take in his appearance. He looked as handsome as ever, but he was growing older, as was the consequences of living. Over time, more grey had appeared in his hair and his beard, and a few more lines and wrinkles adorned his regal face. Even his stomach had gone a little soft (not enough for anyone besides you to notice). But, he was still the man you had met many moons ago. Still the Red Viper. Sill the man could make any woman or man fall to their knees and beg for his cock. “You, my stallion, can breed until you’re dead. The same cannot be said for myself.”

“I do not think I would call myself a stallion, my dove. Not anymore.”

You snorted, and turned away from him, letting your eyes look down at your marriage bed. You ran a hand across the silk sheets. “With the way we’ve been fucking these past few months, I’d disagree.”

You heard an amused chuckle escape his lips. “I may be able to still mount you like a stallion, but perhaps, I can no longer bred you like one.”

You looked over your shoulder at Oberyn, and raised your eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the father of eight daughters doubts his ability to breed?”

His shoulders gave a small shrug before he reached out to you, wrapping his callused hand around your wrist. Oberyn brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your pulse point. “I am not in my prime anymore, my dove. Perhaps, the fault does not lie on you.”

You looked away from him and back toward your marriage bed. You felt him take a step closer before you felt the press of his lips against your shoulder in the briefest of kisses. The hand holding your wrist slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’re taking pity on me, husband,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder before his chin came to rest there, his beard tickling your skin ever so slightly. “I am merely stating a possibility,” he mumbled, the hand holding yours moving, arm shifting to wrap around your waist, hands still tangled with one another. “A truth, perhaps.”

You scoffed. “You cannot be serious, my prince.”

Oberyn hummed, and placed a soft kiss on your neck. “I am,” he mumbled into your skin. “I could deny reality, if I wished, but denying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

“So,” you swallowed and looked down at your tangled hands that were resting on your stomach. You took a deep breath. “You do not think of me as a failure?”

Before you could blink, Oberyn had spun you around to face him. His rich, dark eyes were narrowed, but there was no anger behind his eyes. “You are not a failure, my love,” he said, his voice filled conviction. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Please, do not think of yourself as one.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “There are not many things women are afforded in this life, Oberyn. Many of us are not giving the promise of kingdoms, riches or lands when we are but babes,” you stated, your voice hard, irritation lacing your words. “But this, the gift to bare children, we are born with that. That is ours,” you said, your voice softening as your throat tightened and tears welled at the corner of your eyes. You closed your eyes, and feel another swipe of his callused thumb across your cheek. “I know I am worth more than my anatomy. I know that my anatomy does not define me. That this, this failure,” you said, your voice catching in your throat, “this inability to conceive, does not define me.” You swallowed, and opened your eyes, looking into Oberyn’s deep, chocolate orbs. “I know these things, Oberyn. I know them. But, it cuts me deeply, so deeply that I feel as if I am bleeding out with no way to close the wound.”

“My dove,” he said softly, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek. He held your face gently between his hands, his features soften, and you could see a pain in his decadent eyes. A pain that was reflected in your own. “Your pain is my pain, know that. And know, there is nothing I would not give up in this world in order to give you the gift of a child,” he said, and you could tell that he meant what he said. He wanted this as much as you did, you both wished for this, silently prayed for this. And yet, barren.

You watched as he removed one of his hands from your cheek, sliding it down your neck, shoulder, down the middle of your chest, between your breasts and coming to rest on your stomach. Oberyn looked down at his hand, as did you, and spread his fingers across your stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to see you swell with our babe,” he said, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. You placed your hand over his on your stomach, fingers resting between his. “To see them suckle at your breast, to tug at your skirts, to wreak havoc in the halls.” He gazed back to you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat, a fresh set of tears prickling at the back of your eyes. “The sound of their cries and laughter filling the rooms. To see them as they grow and blossom.” He paused, and you could see he was choosing his words carefully. You felt a knot grow in your stomach. “But, I am starting to think—”

“Please, Oberyn,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his. “Do not say—”

“We need to take a step back, my love.”

Your eyes snapped opened. That was not exactly what you expected. You had expected him to say that you two should give up, forget the notion of ever having your own babe. Perhaps, he would even suggest an orphan child; you were not opposed to the idea, you loved children and would gladly be a mother to a child in need of one. But, you were not ready to give up the idea of having your own yet.

“A step back?” you asked, your eyes filled with confusion as you released your grasp on his hand. You were not entirely sure where your husband was going with this statement. You could not imagine that he was implying to stop fucking. Though Oberyn had aged, he still enjoyed the pleasures of sex (as did you) and the idea that he would give that up? Preposterous. “Are you suggesting we stop fucking, dear husband?”

Oberyn looked aghast at your suggestion, and it made the corner of your mouth tick up. “What a ridiculous notion, dear wife,” he said, mimicking your words back to you, his voice sounding almost betrayed that you would think such a thing. Even suggest such a thing. “Besides,” he started, voice dropping an octave in tone and pitch as he moved both hands, the one on your stomach and the one on your cheek, to come and rest on your hips once more. Oberyn’s callused fingers dipped into your hipbone and held tightly, almost too tightly. It barely phased you. “The idea that I could keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself around you is absurd,” he muttered, a wicked grin spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing with lust. It lasted only a moment before the smirk fell, and a serious look appeared upon his face. “However, if you wish to cease—”

You shook your head. “No, no,” you muttered. “I could not do that to you.”

“My love—”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by ceasing our activities with others.”

“Which,” he started softly, “I had no issue forgoing for you, my dove.” He paused and removed on have from your hip. He placed a finger under your chin and pushed up, lifting your head to make sure that your eyes caught his rich, dark orbs. “You have my body, my heart, and my soul. I love you. Whatever you need, I will comply.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. Oberyn partook in every pleasure imaginable, had never denied himself and tried almost every sexual act under the sun. And yet, here he was, willing to forgo sex for you. You knew he loved you, but this? This proved how far he would go for you, the lengths he would go to make sure you were well, that you were content. Whatever you needed, it seemed, he would gladly give it to you.

“No, Oberyn,” you started and he opened his mouth once more, but you stopped him as you placed a hand on his cheek. “I am — I have no problem continuing our sexual activities.”

You watched as Oberyn studied you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be hiding the truth from him. After a moment, he seemed content with what he found. He nodded and removed his finger from your chin. “Then, that is settled. But, I think, my dove we may have put too much pressure on ourselves,” he murmured, turning his head into your palm, and pressing a soft kiss to the center of it. “Not that our lovemaking is not pleasurable, it most certainly is, always,” Oberyn said, turning his gaze back to you, slipping on another mischievous smirk his let his free hand come to rest just below your breast. “But, perhaps, we’ve forgotten what it is like to be us,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck as you let your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. “Without pressures.” Another kiss, lips moving down. “Without worries.” And, another, lower. “Only us.” His final kiss landed on your shoulder. “Return to an earlier time, when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Do you remember those days, my love?”

You nodded. You remembered those days vividly; the hours spent walking through the water gardens, talking about everything and nothing. The nights spent together, tangled in each other, exploring each other with hands, lips and teeth. Back then, all you had wanted to do was learn about the man you shared your bed — and soon, your life — with, and he had wanted the same. Oberyn still attended to his duties, as required, but every moment when he was not busy, he was with you and you were with him.

Then, when you had married, more of your time had become consumed with your own requirements and duties as well as his own. Much of your time together was spent was in the evenings, in your bed in hopes of conceiving a child.

“Perhaps, my love,” Oberyn started again, “we need to allow ourselves to enjoy each others company, get lost in each other.” A brief pause. “In and out of our bed.” You caught Oberyn’s dark orbs, and him yours. The hand on your ribs was removed, and placed instead upon your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “What do you say, my dove? We do not forgo our dream of one day having a babe of our own. We just,” he paused, for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye, “allow ourselves not to be pressured or burdened by the notion? Return to simpler times, so to speak?”

You let your husband’s suggestion mull in your head for a moment. Perhaps, he was right; perhaps the two of you had been too focused on conceiving a child that you had, unintentionally, made sex a burden. Oberyn was not wrong; your times with him were always pleasurable and the two of you never fucked if either of you was in no mood to engage in sex. But when you did, perhaps, the burden was there, always lingering in the back of your mind. That the burden had become an unknown weight upon you, upon Oberyn. It would be nice to silence that burden for a while.

“My love?”

You blinked and focused your gaze back on Oberyn. His deep brown eyes were studying you, patiently waiting for your response. You smiled softly at him. “You are right, my prince,” you agreed, and you watched as a triumphant look filled his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up. You narrowed your gaze slightly. “Watch that ego of yours, husband.” Oberyn chuckled lowly and moved to grasp your hips. He pulled you tight against him, a wicked smile on his face.

“Or what, dove? Hm?”

“Or,” you started, lifting arms and wrapping the loosing around his neck and shoulders, “it will get you killed one day.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Will it now? By whom?”

You held your chin up. “Me.” Oberyn laughed, the sound filling your shared chambers, and now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You doubt me, my prince?”

“I do not doubt, your strength, my love,” he said through the laughter, which slowly began to die down as the milliseconds passed. “Or your cunning wit. However, I do know that you love me too much to even harm a hair on my head.” He paused and titled his head. “Well, unless in the throes of passion, of course,” he added, another mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “Then well?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It cannot be helped.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but you knew the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. “Whatever you say, my prince,” you muttered.

Oberyn hummed thoughtfully. You had thought to say something else, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Oberyn’s lips were on yours, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. And, you willing granted him entry. His tongue slid harshly against yours, warm, wet and unyielding. A small moan escaped your lips as your arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling into the curls at the nap of his neck. You used your hold to pull yourself even closer to him, pressing your chest against his as you slipped your thigh between his legs, pressing it against his swelling cock. A low growl escaped his throat, one that was eagerly swallowed by your lips as his grip on your hips tightened.

There was a loud knock at your chamber door.

Oberyn barely pulled away, mumbling, “ignore it,” against your lips before sliding his lips against yours again. And, you had planned to, already lost in the taste of him. However, the moment his tongue had slipped back in to your moth, there was another knock. This time, much louder.

“M’lord?” It was one of the man servants. “Are you in there?”

Oberyn groaned and pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. “Yes,” he responded, his voice stern, but somewhat out of breath. You smiled. “But.” One of his hands travelled from you hip, up to your side, coming to rest on your breast. He kneaded the flesh, and you let out a soft mewl, heading falling back, eyes closing. “I am very, very busy. So, if you’ll ex—”

“Your presence is requested, m’lord.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “By whom?” he asked, but he did not bother to move toward the door to let the servant in, only lowered his head to your neck. He gave the skin at the base of your neck a quick, hard nip. You let out a small yelp of surprise mixed with pleasure as you tugged on Oberyn’s dark locks once more.

You were sure the man servant now knew exactly why Oberyn was busy — or, more accurately, whom he was busy with.

“Your brother, m’lord,” he answered, his voice tight and proper.

Oberyn growled against your skin in irritation before he nipped the skin again, this time worrying the skin for a brief moment. “Oberyn,” you whined, the sound a little louder than a whisper. Another nip in the same area. You were sure you’d have a bruise within the hour. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes. “Oberyn,” you said again, trying to quell the ever growing arousal pooling between your legs. However, his name sounded too breathless and needy on your lips. You glanced down at him the best you could, and saw his dark orbs shining with lust. Oberyn gave a sly smirk.

“M’lord?”

You knew he didn’t want to go, that he would rather lose himself in your body and pleasure. However, you knew that if he did not go now, it would only mean more time away from each other later.

“M’lord? He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. If you could please open this door, and—”

“Go,” you whispered, ignoring the man servant’s plea, scratching at the back of Oberyn’s neck and giving him a soft smile. “The sooner you meet with him, the sooner you are back in our bed.”

Oberyn raised his head, his eyes watching you closely. The hand resting on your breast slide up and over your shoulder. His callused fingers began to play with the strap on your gown. “And you will be waiting for me?”

“Of course,” you answered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Unless, you’d like to visit the brothel tonight?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, my prince, and that is my fault. I know I asked you, and you willingly followed my request. But, I do not wish to hold you back anymore. If you would like to share a bed again, I am more than willing to share tonight.”

Oberyn leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, but before it could go farther, he was pulling away. He grinned down at you. “Perhaps another night, my dove. Tonight, I plan to keep you.” The hand on your hip slide off and over, his hand cupping your clothed and aching center. A small whimper escaped your lips, and Oberyn’s own lips twisted into a wicked smile. “And, this pretty cunt all to myself tonight.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell, making you shiver. “Make you come undone upon my tongue for hours,” he whispered, the word sending a fresh flood of arousal between your legs.

“Oberyn—” your voice sounded choked, hoarse, needy.

“Before I finally sink into that tight little cunt.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth, and worried the skin. You groaned, eyes falling closed as you grasped at his upper arm for support. His teeth released your lobe. “And fuck you until the sun rises.”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Oberyn pulled back, hand sliding from your aching center to your hip, and looked at you, that wicked grin still pulling at his lips. “Perhaps—”

“M’lord?” The man servant sounded terse, clearly annoyed that he was still standing outside the door. You glanced at Oberyn to see him roll his eyes, irritation clearly written on his face. “I am sorry, but, I believe—”

“Tell him I will be there in a moment,” Oberyn all but growled through the door at the man servant. You gently swatted at his chest, and gave him a look that silently told him to be nice. Oberyn sighed. “If you would be so kind,” he added, his voice much less demanding as he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

“Um, I would,” the man started, “but he — he requested that I personally accompany you, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes once more. “Of course he did,” he muttered.

You bite your lip once more, this time trying to stifle a giggle that threatened to erupt. However, it escaped — a meager sound, but a giggle nonetheless. “He knows you all too well, my prince.”

“That he does,” he muttered, and let out another heavy sigh before turning his head and attention back on you. “You’ll be fine, my dove?”

And, you knew what he was asking. He was not just asking if you would be fine while he was away, or if you would be fine for the rest of the day. No, he was asking that and more, much more. Oberyn was asking if you’d be fine from here on out with what you two had agreed upon. Would you really and truly be fine with forgoing your want for a babe? Forgoing the need you had created to conceive a child for the foreseeable future. Were you, for now, fine with only having him in your life? No children, only him, only your prince. Only your husband. Only Oberyn.

You smiled sweetly, and reached out, placing a hand upon his cheek. “Yes, my love. As long as you promise to stay by my side until one of us takes our dying breath.”

Oberyn smiled, his dark orbs shining brightly with love and adoration for you. He reached out and covered your hand on his cheek with his, squeezing your fingers gently. “Promise.”

You nodded. “Now,” you started, letting your hand slide from his cheek, his fingers still grasping at yours, “go on. Before your brother comes and hunts you down himself.”

Oberyn scoffed, and looked toward the door. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered, and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Go,” you said, voice a little stern as you gently pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to move him toward the door.

Oberyn laughed softly and untangled his fingers from yours. “Fine, my dove, I am going,” he muttered, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “I will see you in a few hours.” Oberyn took a step back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. He grinned and took another step back. “Make sure you’re ready for me.”

You smirked. “Do not worry about me, my prince. I will be,” you said and he grinned, all teeth and wicked before turning on his heel, and leaving your shared chambers.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, but this time, it did not cause you heartache. There was no finality or dread that sank into your bones. It was just the sound of a door opening and closing, as they always do.

Perhaps, you had closed the door on your dreams of having little ones. But, it wasn’t locked; you could open that door once more, when the time was right. Or, perhaps, you’d find another door, another way. However, right now, you would enjoy the idea of a closed door.

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painless-innit-colourful · 3 years

Text

‘Get Comfy’ - Bench Trio Fluff

TommyInnit needs his best friend for comfort. Tubbo has a meeting. Ranboo comes to the rescue. (Set post-Tommy’s resurrection, pre-failed Dream assassination.)

“I’m trapped!” He cried out jokingly to Ranboo as he passed them to get to the ladder, and his husband laughed and continued on his way in response.

Of all the places in the world to be stuck, this was hardly even bad.

Tommy had appeared in the early hours of the morning on Tubbo’s doorstep in Snowchester, fingers blue and whole body shaking. Not only was he physically cold and vulnerable, but Tubbo could see the way his eyes darted about and the protective stance he held when he answered the door. He uttered: “Tommy? Are you alright?”, and that’s all it took for Tommy to collapse in on himself muttering and crying, and in turn that’s all it took for Tubbo’s best friend instinct to kick in. He brought Tommy inside, pressed him to change out of his wet clothes, made them both a hot chocolate, and then sat them on a window seat, where Tommy helpfully laid out the entire situation - bad nightmare last night, and he’d taken some damage on the way over - while they sat shoulder to shoulder, sipping on their drinks and watching a light snow fall fresh over the town.

When Tommy finished his distressed retelling, Tubbo picked up the conversation, telling Tommy about inconsequential nothings like the stroganoff dinner they’d had the night before that went slightly awry, and Tommy added his own anecdotes about hairy cooking and whatever else along the way, getting calmer and more like himself the longer they sat. Eventually, Tubbo realised Tommy wasn’t chiming in anymore, and that’s because he had passed out on him, head lolled against his shoulder and nearly-empty mug slowly slipping from his hand. Tubbo took it and set it down softly, and then he put his head back and closed his eyes too, some part of him wishing he hadn’t slept so well last night.

He opened his eyes again as Ranboo reappeared from upstairs. "Is he asleep?" Tubbo asked him, to which Ranboo smirked. "I don't know, is he?" Tubbo pulled a face in response. "Yeah, he is." "So's Michael."

Tubbo looked back at the boy asleep on his shoulder and slipped an arm around him, shifting his weight to be leaning more on him. The rise and fall of his chest - like the waves in the fjord - reassured him that Tommy was back, not locked away somewhere Tubbo couldn't follow nor save him from. He'd had enough scares regarding that for one lifetime to make it anything but calming to watch his best friend's breathing as he slept, laying a hand beneath his collarbone and feeling the ‘thump, thump, thump’ of his heart. Stubbornly beating, still.

He could feel Ranboo’s presence over his shoulder before he spoke, “I didn’t think he could be this quiet.” “Pssh, don’t wake him.” They snickered together, Ranboo resting a hand on Tubbo’s free shoulder.

“Are you planning on staying there ‘till he wakes up?” Tubbo nodded slowly, and when Ranboo didn’t answer he turned his head to look at his husband, whose expression seemed an accurate depiction of a man who wished not to deliver some bad news. “What is it?” “You have that… town meeting at two. Which is in ten minutes.” “Shit.”

He’d completely forgotten about the Snowchester residents meeting he and Jack had called, somehow. They were searching for a missing nuke, and a relatively inconspicuous town meeting about security seemed the best way to open the discussion. Only, none of that would matter if he wasn’t there. Tommy seemed to grow heavier at his side, and regret curled around his heart. The chances of him being able to move Tommy alone without waking him were as slim as the chances of both of them making it to twenty. Not impossible, but not something to be trifled with. Unless…

“You okay?” He felt Ranboo squeeze his other shoulder, mild concern furrowing his brow. “Yeah, I just-” He indicated Tommy with a head tilt. “I’d rather not wake him.” He lifted his gaze, making eye contact with the taller boy and laying his free hand on his side. “I don’t suppose you could help?”

He watched as Ranboo’s brain caught up with the question, picking up Tubbo’s hand from his waist and swinging it back and forth a little absentmindedly. “Yeah, what is it?” Tubbo shuffled his legs a bit, hoping they hadn’t fallen asleep so he could get up. “Can you take him - actually, take my spot - without waking him?” By then, he’d positioned himself so his hands were under Tommy, holding up most of his body weight with one hand and an achy shoulder. Ranboo sprang into action instinctively (having a child will do that to you, he supposed), half-kneeling on the window seat behind Tubbo. “Yeah, yeah I can.” They conducted the change-over quietly, as Ranboo squeezed into the gap Tubbo left as the smaller boy propped up his friend against Ranboo’s side. There was a hold-your-breath moment as Tommy settled against Ranboo’s arm (and not his shoulder, because of the height difference), shook his head slightly in his sleep, and kept right on snoozing. Ranboo maneuvered his arm around Tommy, and then they breathed that long, sweet sigh of relief.

“Thank Prime.” “Thank Prime? Thank me, that was my expertise at work, excuse me.” Tubbo kissed him on the forehead lightly. “Thank you.” Then he scurried off to get his coat from across the room, and Ranboo realised his own predicament.

“Excuse me, Mr President-” “Militarist Commune!” “-Whatever. I appear to have been trapped.” Tubbo’s laugh was akin to a dog’s bark, and he quickly hopped across the room while pulling a boot on to the kitchen table, and then back to Ranboo and Tommy on the window seat. He put Ranboo’s phone, earphones and an apple into Ranboo’s hand, and then hop-stepped away again to find his other boot.

“What’s this?” “What do you mean ‘what’s this’?” Ranboo’s expression was pure bemusement as he looked over his stuff. “You didn’t have any plans for the next couple hours, did you?” After a beat, Ranboo replied with a simple “Nope.” Tubbo grinned mischievously. “Good. Get comfy.”

Ranboo looked down at the blonde boy currently curled up against his side, his breath wheezing slightly with every breath he took. “I- I don’t think he’ll react too kindly to- to waking up next to me.” Tubbo shrugged, his hand on the doorknob. “You have three canon lives.” His face split into a joyous smirk as Ranboo’s jaw dropped to the floor. “...Okay then.”

It took Tubbo a full ten seconds to recover his composure enough to speak again. “I’m joking. Mostly.” He pulled a perturbed expression for a second. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll probably make you swear to pretend it never happened. Or-” His eyes flicked down to the sleeping boy one more time, and he wrapped his arms around himself, like he was recalling the warmth. “Maybe he’ll surprise you. Bye!” And just like that he was gone. Ranboo watched him step lightly down the path, and relaxed. Prevent husband being late to his own security meeting: check.

Tommy shifted slightly at his side again, and he looked down at him as he attempted to untangle his earphones with one hand. In sleep, there was none of the shouting, or the weird guttural growling noise he made sometimes, or the insults Ranboo hoped were just friendly teasing. All of the tension had left him, and the lines around his brow from where he spent most of his time squinting or glowering were smoothed out. He looked so peaceful, so unlike Ranboo had ever seen him before. Tubbo’s presence had made him feel safe enough to calm down, to lower the shield and bring down the walls, and fall asleep with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. Their bond was incredible, really, to have survived wars and multiple canon deaths and a fight that was bigger than either of them, watched by the whole world. And Tommy trusted Tubbo to protect him, enough to pass out on him in the middle of the day.

The enderman-hybrid knew he could not compete with either side of their shared attachment, nor did he want to. But, he thought as he brushed a bit of lint away from one of Tommy’s eyes, if he could be even a little bit like that for Tubbo, he might find the family he’d craved as far back as he could remember. It wasn’t a memory, it was more like a feeling. Something that ran deeper than his conscious thoughts. A sixth sense, a raw instinct. To keep his family safe, however he must.

And if he could convince the strong-willed second-in-command as well? The more the merrier.

#what's this? two fics in a week? has that ever happened before?#the answer is yes. ages ago #anyway this is like the first time i've ever written ranboo properly so that's why his character isn't perfect #it'll come with practice. i hope #i've had this half done for a couple weeks it feels good to finish it #crim writes #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #dsmp fic #bench trio #clingyduo #bee n boo #allium duo #full set babey!#hope y'all enjoyed the fic!! comments/tags/rbs are very appreciated :)

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chironshorseass · 3 years

Note

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that” for the prompts, if you want to ofc

yeah, um...i planned on making this angsty. but then i remembered: skater percy.

read on ao3

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that.”

Annabeth looked down at the steep slope of the concrete beneath her. It was steeper than she’d thought.

Slowly, her eyes drifted back to her boyfriend, whose hands rested comfortably on her hips.

“How do I know that we’re not gonna fall off and die?” she said, not daring to move an inch from her death grip on Percy’s neck.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t choked from her grasp already. She probably looked laughable—all paralyzed and wide-eyed—but she didn’t care.

“Because,” he said, holding her tighter. “I’ve got you. And I’m not letting go.”

“Reassuring,” she muttered but didn’t argue further.

She had to do this. There was a reason why she’d practically begged Percy to teach her how to skateboard. She knew the basics now, but hanging out too much with his friends and feeling useless around them as they all took to skating around this particular park had done something to her self confidence.

However, she’d told herself that she could do this.

And yet, she had no clue why the idea of this ramp and her balancing on just a piece of wood terrified her so; she’d experienced much more frightening situations during her lifetime. Monsters weren’t exactly cute and cuddly, after all. But there was just something about this slope and this skateboard that made her want to run and hide and never look back.

“Hey,” Percy said softly. He’d likely sensed her thoughts, what with how well he knew her. “We don’t have to do this, you know. It’s okay to be scared. I was scared the first time I tried this. We can just do it another time.”

“No, no—I want to try this out.” Because she couldn’t give up; her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“It’s going to be a breeze after the first time. Trust me on this.”

Easy for him to say. He was the invulnerable one in the relationship.

“Just…don't let go, okay?” she said.

“I won’t. Already promised that.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear—which was partially hidden under her helmet. A helmet he’d forced her to wear, though she realized just how foolish she’d been to argue with him against it, because if she fell off, the helmet was her only salvation. His fingers swiped at some other stray hairs, and the tender feel of his fingers brushing against her skin made her heartbeat slow down its galloping pace.

“You ready?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Cool.” Her arms wrapped around his neck impossibly tighter than before. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay,” he repeated, grinning.

She saw his leg lift itself off the ground, ready for its placement on the skateboard. But still, the board barely moved an inch, as if Percy was waiting for some kind of signal.

“What are you waiting for, Seaweed Brain? Get it over wi—AAAHHHH!”

The words left her throat in a shrill screech. Clarisse would’ve never let her forget it if she’d been present in that moment. Luckily, it was just her and Percy and the steady roll of the small wheels beneath her feet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what Percy had taught her. Tighten the butt and tighten the abdomen.

And most importantly, not letting go.

The moment was over as quick as the wind rushing past her face when going down the ramp. Through her screams, all she’d felt was Percy. She’d only felt his warm hands on her back keeping her in place, and when she opened her eyes, they were gliding steadily across the rest of the park.

Annabeth let out a breath of relief.

“That...wasn’t so bad,” she managed to say, glancing up at him.

The smile he gave her was infectious—a boyish grin that only meant trouble. Fit for a skater boy, some of the Aphrodite kids would say.

But she knew, better than most, that Percy meant more than just trouble. He was beautiful this way, with his snapback making his curls peak out like clouds in the sky and his green eyes sparkling with pride, that gaze directed only to her.

“Hey, I knew you could do it,” he said as they turned a corner.

With the wheels from the skateboard, the concrete felt as smooth as glass, like she could skate for hours without stopping. Most of all, this closeness to him felt like freedom. Like the first breath after submerging underwater. It was as if, now that she’d gone down that ramp, she felt unstoppable with a giddiness that only occured on the first kiss, or on a first date.

She’d begun to realize however, that with Percy, everything new felt like turning a chapter.

“Feeling good for another round?”

She found herself beaming. “Sure thing.”

They stopped suddenly, and she craved that intimacy with him as soon as he jumped back into solid ground. She had no choice but to do the same.

“I’ll accept another round. But only if you don’t let go,” she said, nudging him. They walked side by side, hand in hand, towards the ramp.

“Easier said than done.”

Suddenly, he halted in his step but didn’t drop her hand. That’s when she turned around, only to find him mere inches away from her.

“What are you doing?”

He cocked his head to the side, sending her that look. It was a look that she’d never get used to, even now, that they were dating. His lips tugged upwards; she felt his arm drag her closer to him, like when they were riding on that skateboard that currently lay discarded on the ground.

“You told me to not let you go.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’m doing.”

His breath was warm against her lips.

“Getting cocky, are we?”

It came out breathier than she expected. It wasn’t like anyone could blame her, really. Not when Percy’s lips spread to a full-on grin as he cupped her cheek.

“What can I say? Dating you makes anyone’s ego skyrocket.”

She barked out a laugh, ignoring the way her cheeks grew hot. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He only hummed, leaning down even more. Taking his face in her hands, Annabeth, guided him closer—and that’s when her helmet bumped with his forehead, making them both laugh.

“I told you the helmet was stupid,” she said.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Percy’s head tilted slightly further to the left, and before she could protest, their lips had already met in a soft, feather-light kiss. Sighing, her fingers brushed against his jaw. She stood on her tippy toes, then, deepening the kiss.

Who knew he’d one day grow taller than her? Sometimes, she saw it as a disadvantage. Like right now, as she tried to grab hold of Percy's snapback that was just barely out of reach. Finally achieving her goal, she broke the kiss.

“Hey!” he protested, noting how she’d promptly taken his snapback and placed it on top of her head. “What was that for?”

Annabeth gave him a quick peck on the lips before stepping away. She winked at him, throwing her helmet his way.

“It’s my turn to look cool, now!”

“Get back here!”

But she’d already broken into a sprint, reaching for the ramp.

“Race you to the top!” she called out.

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

“See ya later, boy!”

“Ohh you are not quoting Avril Lavigne on my watch!”

“Why not?”

She felt a breeze brushing by her side and heard the tell-tale sound of the roller wheels. Faster than she’d thought possible, Percy whirled and whisked the snapback into his own hands, then tossed the helmet she’d hurled at him earlier. Demigod instinct took care of that, hands reaching to catch it in the blink of an eye.

“Hey, no fair!”

“You weren’t being fair, either!” is all he said, as he kicked back with his leg and sprang to the top.

Show off.

He made skating look easy, the jerk.

Apparently leaving a skateboard behind with a Skater Boy had its disadvantages. But she laughed anyway, once she reached the top—once he belted out the lyrics to that Avril Lavigne song at her arrival.

The pull of gravity when skating down the ramp took her breath away, but afterwards, she laughed again, and again, until that’s all she knew how to do.

And of course, she now knew how to skate.

(She’d found that in more ways than one, dating a skater had its perks.)

#mac tag #writing prompts #ahh this is corny this is corny but I can't stooopp #percabeth #percabeth fic #skater percy #skater!percy #pjo fic #look mom i can write #it’s nearly 1 am why do i write stuff at 1 am

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barnesandco · 3 years

Text

Little Hands (IV)

Series Masterlist

Communication is key.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 2248. Square filled: “Sung to Sleep”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Hydra Evilness, More Sad Child, Parental Anxieties. Brief mentions of war, sickness, death, grief.

A/N: I know 2.2k words isn’t objectively a lot but boy did this feel like it. I hope every word is worth it and that you enjoy! Lmk what you think!!! Also I won’t even lie, the idea of Steve’s kids is 100% from one of my favorite comfort fics, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, by the genius, the wonderful cosmicocean. IT’S SO SOFT. Pls read it.

You’re stunned when Bucky tells you what’s going on. The idea that his daughter (?) was made in a lab like some kind of experiment, and that the man who led said experiment now wants her back like she is his property, his weapon, is too horrid to consider for very long. Weaponizing an innocent child. Hydra.

Bucky gave you the broad strokes of the investigation – currently running on little more than educated guesses based on the meagre intel they have – and has let you know that he has had to recuse himself from the case, due to his… personal connection. That leaves him somewhere he finds awkward, to say the least.

It's evident in the way the corners of his lips turn down, how he is constantly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the coarse scratch of denim, while he watches Ana watch Zoya, Steve’s 17-year-old daughter, working on a tablet. Zoya tucks a strand of hair behind her hijab, then continues to draw up a storyboard, narrating the events to the younger girl. Steve had apparently forgotten the lunch his kids had made him at home, so Zoya had brought it in, and decided to stay the day.

Ana’s quiet, attentive for the most part, listening with her full capabilities, but her eyes flit away from the screen every now and then to look at you and Bucky, as if to reassure herself that you’re still there.

Besides that, there aren’t all that many distractions present for an already precocious child. Most of the team has dispersed for the investigation, with the exception of Peter, who is sat at a table in the corner making intentionally fruitless efforts at teaching Morgan chess, while she giggles and tries to stack the pieces like Jenga blocks instead.

However, Bucky’s restlessness is infectious, and you think he needs to get it under check before it grows any further. That’s why you stand, saying, “Could we go for a little walk, Bucky?”

He nods, man of few words that he is, and leads the way. You’re sure he knows that you formulated it like a request for his benefit, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s just as well – that he knows you like that, and knows when to accept the proverbial hand being offered.

Bucky takes you to a corner of the roof that you’d mistake for a community garden if you didn’t know any better. The Avengers seem to have green thumbs, or at least, a significant portion of them do. They’re good with plants, and possessive about them, too. Autumn ferns grow outside the circle they seem to have been planted in – with a sign shouting Wanda! – to invade the territory of a vegetable garden labelled Bruce (accompanied by a Hulkish, green thumbs up presumably not drawn by the man himself).

Meticulously maintained daylilies and columbines, in vivid reds and vibrant purples, litter the edges of the path that has been carved through this little paradise, and the birdhouses between them stake the claim of the owner more effectively than a neon sign screaming Sam Wilson. Bucky’s told you about his abilities, how they veer into the decidedly supernatural but Sam insists are only the residue of a childhood with homing pigeons.

Nothing here looks like Bucky’s, though. He seems to be taking it in, perhaps thinking about his own little paradise back in the city, and how he’s chosen to keep it distant from that of his teammates. That worries you. He worries you.

And this, the situation with Anastasia, becoming a father, it’s terrifying. Hell, if it scares you this much, how is he feeling? You ask him as much.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He laughs, softly, disbelievingly, no malice in his scoff, only fear. Only the sound of a voice saturated with consternation and total, complete anxiety. “Would you be?” He asks back.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Bucky evades the questions, turning first one way on the path, and then the other, approaching the edge clear of shrubbery and blooms alike, resting his palms on the top of the wall.

“I can’t be a father.”

The solemnity in his tone allows no room for negotiations, but then, neither do the facts. “You are,” you reply, somewhat hesitantly, because the technicalities of how Ana came to be are still a little blurry to you. She’s far from a normal child, and not quite a clone, either. She is of Bucky, though. His, in any way that counts.

“That little girl was created in a Hydra lab as a super soldier to serve the cause,” he says, shaking his head vigorously as the cause repulses him even more than it does you. “And who knows what else she was put through before SHIELD fell and Orlov got her out, and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for it to happen but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t happened. They used me to make a super soldier from scratch, and now I’m supposed to raise her? It’s not that simple. I’m not Steve. I can’t…”

Being honest, you feel you’re pretty far out of your depth here. But you’ve promised him your help, and you’ll do your best.

“You don’t have to. There are other options.” You’re sure you’re overstepping. Perhaps this gentle companionship has not yet reached the point where you can give advice on parenting. But if you don’t, who will? Steve, whose answers don’t enter the gray territory Bucky’s mind is residing in right now, who parents like he was born for it?

Steve chose fatherhood. Bucky has been nailed to it like it’s a new cross to bear, heavier than all the previous ones put together.

His gaze roams the grounds that stretch as far as you can see. You’re both far away from home right now, far outside your comfort zones.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, sweetheart. It’s not right. You have things to do, and I shouldn’t have—”

“Bucky, I’ve been staring at the same four sentences of dialogue for the past month. I literally could not have been happier to get out of the house. Even if I do wish it was under better circumstances,” you say fervently. You’re here because he needs you. Because Ana needs you. It’s nice to be needed.

“That’s one way to put it,” he smiles, and you’re glad to see it.

“Not to mention, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except whoever your team is looking for,” you insist. “And Ana’s a sweet girl. A little quiet, but Baba says I was, too.”

This, Bucky thinks about. You wonder if he was a quiet child, too. “What’s he like?”

“Hmm?” The reverie snaps like a rubber band.

“Your father?” Bucky asks, shyly, his eyes meeting yours, letting you know exactly why he’s asking.

You look up at the clouds, think back to Boston, to time shared between the library and the park. A childhood with books, lunch breaks under a desk in an office at MIT, stealing his glasses and running away with them, rubbing at his stubbly beard like he was a housecat. Inside jokes with your father and rolled eyes with your mother. Laughter and tears, laughter with tears.

After a long while, trying and failing to summarize your father, you say, “A jokester. The most sarcastic person I know. But still kind of neurotic, to be honest. The kind of parent that makes you show up at the airport a full four hours before your flight.” It’s grossly insufficient. For a writer, you’re not very good with words. You suppose it’s not the words that are the problem; it’s the lifetime they have to encompass. “What about yours?”

Bucky sighs. “Soldier. He’s one thing I don’t feel bad for not remembering because it wasn’t Hydra that wiped those memories. He just died when I was really small. Survived the Great War only to be killed by TB a few years later at home.”

“I’m sorry.” You avert your eyes. Grief feels private, even decades later, even in the smallest doses.

He shakes his head, smiles fondly, up at the sky, too, like you did. Only, he’s smiling at it, like he’s thinking of someone beyond the clouds. “Don’t be. Was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t allowed to hurt anymore.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I sound like my therapist.”

At this, the two of you look at each other and burst into laughter. It feels forbidden, as though the severity of the situation condemns joy. That isn’t fair, you think. The situation is that of a child, and nobody needs laughter more than kids do. Food for the soul.

When the echo of your exhilarations falls, Bucky grows serious once more. “They have them for kids, now, too, right?” He asks, referring to therapists. “Do you think Anastasia should see one? She’s not exactly… normal, you know?”

“Maybe.” It’s a difficult question, but a good indicator of how Bucky is growing to feel about Ana. “You’d make a good dad, if you wanted to be one, Bucky,” you say, and mean it. It’s plain as day that he cares about her.

“I can’t even remember my own.”

“Parental instincts are intuitive, not genetic,” you tell him.

“You been reading handbooks?” He teases.

“You’d be surprised by how much you learn from the rabbit holes you fall down while researching books,” you deadpan.

“Can any of that research get the nightmares out of my head? I think it might scare a kid.”

The self-deprecation hurts, but your response is honest, heartfelt. “She likes you already.”

“She won’t if she thinks I’ve run away,” he answers, straightening up. He might be trying to evade the conversation, but you’ll let him, for now. He’s gotten some fresh air, had some time to clear his thoughts, or sort them, at least. And so you return, to the little girl who has a tighter grip on both of you than you even realize.

------

Ana grows unsettled as night darkens the sky. It could be the ruckus she isn’t quite used to. It could be the toy fire truck Tony has been altering with his utensils to increase its noise output, much to Morgan’s amusement. It could be the actual parrot perched on Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever the cause, she hasn’t succumbed to it enough to make a seat out of the fridge again. She’s sitting in her seat, between Bucky and yourself, eating the hummus Bruce and Wanda have made. Nat discusses sniper scopes with Clint, Peter tries to get away with eating the side of vegetables on Jordan’s plate without Steve noticing, and Bucky eats silently, eyes almost constantly on Anastasia, who takes it all in while her knee bounces up and down with an ever-increasing speed, much like her father’s.

You excuse yourselves soon after dessert, after Morgan has fallen asleep against Jordan’s arm on the couch, and Steve and Tony’s friendly debate is starting to develop the edge it tends to when they’ve been bantering for too long.

Bucky sets up on the sectional in his room, and leaves the ridiculously large double bed to you and Anastasia. It’s been a strange, strange day, and one can only hope that tomorrow brings some ease, a balm for the prickly, fiery ache that has settled over the man you care so much about.

------

When you wake, it’s because of singing. For half a moment, you think you’re in a dream, but as your eyes adjust to the blanket of dark, you see the shadow on the sofa nearby. Only, it’s bigger than just Bucky. Anastasia is sitting on his lap, her head cushioned against his chest. Scrambling for your glasses, and turning on the lamp on the bedside table, you notice that there are trails of drying tears on her little cheeks, and she’s still shaking with the aftershocks of whatever scare she must’ve had during the night.

Not for the first time, you curse your deep sleep that meant you didn’t wake with Ana, but watch in wonder as Bucky sings.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

Ana’s eyes begin to close, but she fights the sleep. Bucky doesn’t let her. He lies down, easing her down beside himself, singing all the while.

And if that diamond ring turns brass Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

His voice fills the room, low though it may be, and he curls himself around Ana.

And if that billy goat won't pull Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull turn over Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

She succumbs to the lull of his tone, his song, his promises, sighs a little sigh, lets the last, little hiccup leave her body.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Bucky lifts his hand from where it was stroking the hair at her temple, and lays his arm over his daughter. They’re safe, for now. Together.

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #dad!bucky barnes #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfic

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imaginedxlan · 3 years

Text

Beta (Fred Weasley)

a/n: I had a whole frat boy series for the dolan twins and I cannot stay away, frat boys have my heart, both in real life and in imagines. Everything I do in life is for the chads and brads of the world.

beta theta pi has always been a fraternity you were intimidated by. they’re title as top house has always made you feel too insecure to go anywhere near them, but when your best friend starts dating a beta boy you’re forced to face the top house at their annual spring darty (day party for those who are unware)

disclaimer: hogwarts is basically just one greek row shawties. beta boys are hot, so expect the hottest of hogwarts to be in it.

y/f/n = your friend’s name

warnings: alcohol, sexual allusions, fratboy!fred

_____________

As the weather gets warmer on campus, that can only mean one thing: Darty Season. After suffering through the brutal winter, greek row opens up its lawns and lake front docks to the brothers and sisters of the greek system. Being the undisputed top house, Beta Theta Pi’s spring darties are always the most coveted invite. With their massive backyard and gallons of supplied liquor, theres not a soul on greek row who wouldn’t want a taste of the party of a lifetime. Well, except one.

You never bought into the beta supremacy like all of your sorority sister have. To be quite honest, you’re slightly terrified of the brick faced mansion only a block away from you. You’ve never heard anything that bad about the brothers, just that their looks and entitlement make any girl an easy target for heartache.

Before you came to college, you had a longterm boyfriend who you agreed to stay with as long as possible, even over long distance. However, the summer before you kissed your hometown goodbye, he decided being tied down wasn’t for him and slept with a girl he met at orientation. He was only away for three days. So you kept your distance from beta and all the boys who had the capacity to make you feel as shattered as you did the July morning your ex boyfriend returned from his trip with a hickey on his neck.

Your distance suddenly became harder to keep when your best friend, your roommate and sorority sister, shacked up with some beta boy she met in her communications class. You warned her as much as you could, her boyfriend being the blonde rich boy every girl whispered about, but Draco proved you wrong the minute he started begging her to be his girlfriend.

So here you are, next to y/f/n who’s tucked under Draco’s arm as you walk toward the house thats bursting with sound and alcohol. He insisted on walking the two of you to the house, assuring none of the pledges would look at ‘his girl’ the wrong way. You’ve passed the beta house plenty of times over your past two years at school, never once have you gotten over the sinking feeling in your stomach to ever go in.

“Y/n, relax, we’re not a bunch of cavemen,” Draco speaks up once he notices how you’re holding your arms across your chest. Y/f/n told him about why you were so apprehensive about him, about his fraternity, he promised he’d be with you both the whole day. “Lets get something to drink, loosen you both up a bit.”

He takes you both to where there are pledges handing out cans of seltzers and beer and snags you both white claws before they’re gone. He sticks to his word and hangs around the two of you no matter how many times his brothers come up to him and try to convince him to join in on a game of beer di or chicken in the lake. You start feeling bad for him, y/f/n too, you know you’re holding them back in a sense. You tell both of them you’re okay if they want to hang out with his friends once you spot a couple of other girls in your sorority.

The minutes feel like hours, while you’re having a fine time with your girl friends, you wish this party would end more than anything. Before you know it, y/f/n is screaming your name from the dock, waving you over. Once you get there she’s dragging you toward the lake, urging you to take off your top and shorts so you could play chicken with her and Draco. You immediately agree until you’re hit with the realization that you needed a fourth in order to play chicken.

Enter Fred Weasley. You’ve seen the twins around campus, everyone talks about them. Six foot something with fiery red hair and gorgeous bodies. You’ve seen their bare torsos on more saturday night snapchat stories than you can count. His baby blue swim hang low on his hips, putting his freckle littered chest and abdomen completely on display.

“Fred,” He says casually, reaching out his hand. “Most people call me Weasley, or Freddie.”

Your breath hitches, his hands are massive. You bite your lip to take his hand in yours, you’ve never actually shaken hands with any guy you’ve met at this school. You reply without meeting his burning gaze, “Y/n.”

All he says is a quiet ‘I know’ almost like you weren’t meant to hear it, before y/f/n is calling from Draco’s shoulders for the two of you to hurry up. Your stomach turns at the thought of being on top of his shoulders. This won’t be a fair fight, Draco isn’t even six foot and Fred is a giant.

You edge closer to the stairs of the dock, Fred just jumps right in. The water is cold, unsurprisingly. Everything in you is praying that the chill of the water cools the flush that is running across your cheeks. Fred dunks his whole body under the water and feels for your ankles to pull you over his shoulders. The grips his huge hands have on the tops of your thighs makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You ready?” He asks once you’re steady on his shoulders. You can’t see his face but you wish you could. His messy, wet hair splayed across his forehead must be a sight to for sore eyes. “I’ve got you tight up there, just don’t tip.”

You tell him you’re good before he makes his way over the Draco with y/f/n on top of him. She’s shorter than you, at least half a foot which makes it easier for you to put your hands on her shoulders to gain control. You’re both laughing as you try and push the other over. You’re almost having too much fun to forget that you’re in a bikini on top of arguable the best looking boy in your year in front of a backyard of hundreds of drunk students. Usually you would be more insecure about your current situation, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually y/f/n loses her balance and topples over, bringing Draco down with her. Fred shouts out in celebration once they emerge front the lake. In a swift motion, his slippery hands pull your body off his shoulders to stand in front of him. His hand absentmindedly goes to your waist as he continues to shout at Draco for ‘being such a loser.’

His smile is radiant. It makes you smile with him and laugh with y/f/n as she rings out her hair. For the rest of the day, Fred barely leaves your side, his hand continues to make its way to hold you close to him by your waist. The drunker you get the less you notice it, you actually sort of like it. Any time a drinking game arises, he immediately pulls you along with him. Beer pong, flip cup, rage cage, he’s always planted next to you as you drink the day away. You meet his twin and his other friends who give him a knowing look when they see you practically joined at the hip.

His friend Blaise can’t help but smile your way, a shit eating grin gracing his features. He whispers something in Fred’s ear which makes him laugh a little. His laugh is perfect, you wouldn’t need even alcohol, you could get completely drunk off his features. You like the beta boys, you can’t understand why you were ever scared of them in the first place. George and Oliver talk to you as if you’ve know them for years, chatting about your mutual friends and your hometowns. You feel comfortable with them, it makes you happy.

“S’getting late,” He says, he isn’t slurring but his wobbly stance gives off that he’s clearly drunk. As the sky turns all shades of orange, you realize just how much time you’ve spent with him. You haven’t seen Draco or y/f/n in a while, meaning their probably up in his room. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” You protest, shaking your head but he stops you. His hand rests on the side of your neck, making you choke on your breath as you meet his eyes. His lazy smile makes your heart race.

“You’re very pretty, you know that?” He drunkenly stumbles over his words. Your heart is hammering against your rig cage, you feel weirdly sober now that he’s staring into your eyes. “Had class with you last semester, couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You continue to shake your head, wondering if this day had just been a wild dream and you were going to wake up in yours and y/f/n’s shared room in your pajamas any second. But his hand travelling up your side pulls you into the realization that this is reality.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t reply, you simply lift onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. If you were completely sober, you would never be so bold but everything in you was screaming for his touch. His lips are warm, a completely one-eighty from his cold hands against your skin. The party goes on around you but you feel like time stands still in Fred’s embrace. He pulls away from you for just a second to catch his breathe before leaning down to catch you in another kiss. His hand moves from your waist to the small of your back as the kiss deepens.

You eventually pull from each other, breathless, once you feel beer from various cups splash against your skin as a group of boys huddle next to you to sing out whatever song is playing at the moment. You both laugh as you lean your head against his bare chest, drinking in this moment.

“Come on then,” He says, taking your hand in his. Your head is spinning, not from the alcohol, but from the complete state of bliss you’re in. “I’ll grab you a shirt and get you home.”

You walk back to your house, hand in hand with his tee shirt hanging just above your knees, talking about everything under the sun. While the walk itself is short, the moment seems to last forever. When you each your front lawn, he tugs on your hand to pull you into him once more, feeling his soft lips meet yours. Your heart flutters as you walk toward your front door, turning back to him and he smiles at you, making your heart melt.

“Goodnight, Freddie.” You call out from the opened door. He gives you a small waves and tells you he’ll see you soon. Once the door is shut you close your eyes and can’t help but smile. You squeal, causing the girls in your living room to look out the window and see Fred Weasley with his fingers on his lips and a wide smile. They pull you onto the couch and beg you to tell them all about your day in the background of beta theta pi. You can’t contain your grin as you relay today’s events to your sorority sisters.

Maybe beta isn’t so scary after all.

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #draco malfoy #harry potter imagine #harry potter #frat boy fred weasley #fred weasley modern #weasley imagine #weasley twins #weasley #weasley twins imagine #fred weasley x reader

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obeymebabes · 3 years

Text

A Surprise Adventure (Levi x MC)

A/N: Happy Birthday to the well known shy otaku snakey fish boy of Devildom! While he may not be my favorite, he is certainly a cutie. May his birthday be a pleasant one.

Warnings: None, just a happy otaku boy on an adventure.

Summary: Leviathan’s big day has arrived, and he has been transported into a "simulation". With the help of MC, he must gain a special item to gift to the evil prince who has taken his brothers captive! The adventure awaits!

“Levi? Helloooo? Wake up! Your adventure is awaiting!” You nudged the Avatar of Envy, trying to wake him from whatever dream he was having.

He stirred, groaning a bit, but after shaking him just a bit more, you could see his eyes flutter open.

Seeing your familiar figure standing over him in the comfort of his bed-tub he smiled a little, a blush forming rather rapidly on his cheeks. You watched as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Leviathan! Finally you are awake. It is urgent! You must hurry!” Tugging on his arm, you ripped him from the comfort of his warm blanket and Ruri body pillow, earning a soft yell from him as he stumbled to follow you.

“MC? What is going on? What happened? Is everything okay?” Panic quickly waved over him. He had no idea what was happening. Perfect. It seems your plan is working so far.

“Admiral you must see this! It is your brothers! It appears that your brothers have been taken captive by the evil Lord of Devildom, and he is challenging YOU to get them back!” Acting as dramatic as you can, you pointed to a video conveniently pulled up on his computer.

“W-What!? Admiral? What is this? Is that.. Is that Lord Diavolo?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to process everything in his head. Clicking play on the video, he watched closely.

The video showed a rather menacing looking Lord Diavolo, and behind him, the six brothers, shackled in very real looking chains, calling out for help from their rescuer.

“If you wish to see your brothers again, I request that you bring me a gift in exchange for them. It must not be any gift, you see. It must be special. A once in a lifetime item that will be impossible to replicate. Bring it to me and you will set your precious family free. I hope to see you soon, Grand Admiral Leviathan.” Lord Diavolo smirked with a wicked grin just before the camera cut out.

The wheels in Levi’s brain were spinning rapidly. Confusion was all over his face.

“Of course! I know what this is! This must be the new game that I pre-ordered. I never thought it would be so realistic.” He was babbling to himself, forgetting that you were still very much in the room with him.

Trying to regain his focus, you were quick to get back into character. “Grand Admiral? What are we to do about this? What could he possibly want as a gift?”

Levi looked around, trying to figure out a possible solution. “I have plenty of limited edition items, this should be easy!” His voice was filled with confidence, as he went to look through his various Ruri-Chan items that were no longer in the place he remembered. A quick and easy vanishing spell granted by Solomon was much more effective than you imagined.

He frantically looked around his room, creating a mess of his once somewhat neat space. “Where are they!?” His voice was faltering, more panic setting in.

“Where is what?” You asked, confused, but calm, trying to keep up the false facade of being an ordinary game character of sorts. When he didn’t reply, you walked over and gently put a hand on his shoulder. “Admiral?”

“I could have sworn they were all here! All of my limited edition Ruri-Chan items! They’re gone! Does this mean that I missed something? Are there any other clues from that video? What could Lord Diavolo possibly be asking for if I don’t have it?” Levi paced around the room, going back to his computer to check every detail.

“Perhaps we can head to a local shop to see if there is anything of such a high value?” Trying to steer him onto the right track, you tried to bargain with him. The light in his eyes shined as he smiled excitedly. You could tell how excited he was to go on an adventure.

“That’s perfect! Yes! Let’s go! We can’t waste any time!” Grabbing your arm, he was quick to try to pull you from the room but you stopped him just before he was able to go out.

“Grand Admiral, I believe you need to change. You can’t possibly go out looking like this. Your uniform is pressed and awaiting you in the closet. I will be waiting just outside the door for you. Please do hurry.” With a smile, you headed out of his room, patiently waiting for Levi to return in his special outfit.

While waiting for him, you quickly and sneakily texted the group chat to let everyone know your current situation, and that the plan was indeed working. Mammon was the first to reply, saying that it was unbelievable that he was even buying it, and that he was gullible, which led to an argument about Mammon. But time was ticking, and he seemed eager. So you simply texted “everyone be ready” and made sure to tuck your temporary phone away.

Another minute passed and Levi finally hyped himself up enough to walk through the door. Dressed in a customized admiral outfit, you could see the glow of confidence radiating off of him. He was standing a little taller, with a more sophisticated smile. He didn’t look like the normal every day otaku that his brothers always made fun of. This was a different Levi. A confident Levi.

“Let’s go. We can’t waste any time. I can’t let anything happen to my brothers.” He ushered you to follow him, leading you both out of the door where a ride was waiting to take you to the Devildom Shoppes.

Upon your arrival, everything seemed normal, there were people all around, walking around, looking at items, just another normal day in Devildom. That was until Levi began to make his way through the crowd, with you following a close pursuit behind him. The crowd parted for him, allowing him to pass with ease, bowing slightly in his presence, just as they would for a well known and well praised admiral.

You could even hear faint whispering about him. All good things to feed into Leviathan’s confidence, should he be listening. He deserves it, after all.

Looking back and holding the door for you, he waited for you to enter the store with him. Upon entering, you could see all of the various rare collectible items. The store had everything Levi could dream of, all of the items he had thought he owned just a bit ago back in his room. Quickly, he started looking around, seeing as he was familiar with the items.

Following close behind, you made eye contact with the person on the other side of the shelf that Levi was currently looking through.

“What do you think of this?” The Avatar of Envy held up a rare figurine. “Do you think this would be enough to get my brothers back? It is a one of a kind misprinted figure.” Seeing the slight frustration in his eyes, you shook your head.

“It has to be super special. Something that cannot be replicated.” You reminded him, cueing the other person in the store to make his move.

“You are looking for something special hm?” A voice spoke, causing Levi to look up.

“Solomon?” He asked under his breath, hoping the white haired familiar didn’t pick up on it.

“I may have something that could be of interest.” The shady wizard smirked, looking around to make sure they were alone.

Levi was interested, waiting to see what Solomon had. Carefully, the sorcerer pulled a shimmering, glowing book from a magical inside pocket of his coat. The otaku’s eyes lit up, immediately recognizing the item of interest.

“What?! Is that the first ever draft of TSL? Hand-written and signed by the author!?” Levi could hardly contain his excitement. He was nearly squealing like a nerd at the sight of such a beloved item that he had never pictured being so close to. He reached to hold it.

“Indeed it is.” Solomon’s pulled the book away right before Levi’s hand touched it. “Ah, are you sure this is something you are looking for, however? It is my prized possession and I would hate to let it go to the wrong hands.” The wizard’s words were meant to be condescending, but with the confidence Levi had gained over the last hour or so, along with his long dream of owning this special item, he nodded. “I will protect it with my life, you have my word.”

With that, the book was now in Levi’s possession. He held it close to him, hugging it, and smiling with the biggest grin you had ever seen from him. Even dressed in an honorable outfit, he was still just the cute nerd that everyone loved.

“I must get going. I wish you good fortune on your journey, wherever it may take you.” Solomon smiled and headed out of the store, assumingly to head back to the castle where the others are waiting patiently.

“Now, Grand Admiral, do you have a plan for how to go about this exchange?” You asked, intrigued to know what Levi had in mind, now that he had just gotten the one thing he would very likely never let go of.

“Of course I have a plan, but we have to get to the castle. I can’t wait any longer.” With a smile, he held out his arm for you to go in front of him, leaving the store behind. Onwards to the castle.

Upon reaching the “evil” castle, you entered, and it wasn’t quite the sight you were expecting. Diavolo really had gone above and beyond decorating the place. It wasn’t the light, bright, uplifting golden color everyone was used to, instead it seemed more dull, and gloomy, radiating the “evil” that was intended.

Speaking of the devil, appearing from the shadows came Lord Diavolo, in his demon form to appear more sinister, playing the part quite well, in fact. “Ah, Grand Admiral Leviathan. I see you have finally come to rescue your helpless brothers.” With a twisted smile Diavolo greeted Levi, and Levi’s face turned from confidence to the slightest hint of fear.

Mustering up any and all courage, he spoke. “I have. Where are they? I have what you’ve asked for. But I will not give it to you blindly.” Leviathan flashed the glimmering book, earning a chuckle from the demon lord.

“Smart one you are. Very well. Follow me.” The prince spoke, guiding both Levi and you down the hallway. Luckily for you, everyone else, and Levi, he never pays attention when he is at the castle. There are too many rooms, hallways, and places to get lost, so he never bothers to look beyond where he is supposed to be. This works in your favor rather well.

There was a large set of doors, the handles wrapped in a lingering smokey magic, a seal to ensure that no one was getting in or out. Levi had looked to you, cautiously, almost worried that something bad were to be behind this set of doors that he had never seen before. With a snap of the prince’s fingers, the smoke dissipated from the handles and Diavolo slowly opened the doors.

Behind them, was not at all what Levi was imagining. He nearly froze in shock, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open, and his brain desperately trying to make sense of what was before him.

“Surprise!! Happy Birthday Levi!” Everyone yelled as colorful confetti flew through the air. Setting a hand on the special boy’s shoulder, you guided him into the room.

“What is all of this?” He asked you, looking around to see all of the familiar faces. His brothers, Solomon, Luke, Simeon, Barbatos, and even Diavolo.

“A surprise party, duh!” You laughed, watching as the otaku’s mind shatters right before your very eyes.

“You should have seen the look on your face!” Mammon called from the corner, getting jabbed in the arm by Lucifer.

“Wait- So this isn’t a game?!” His eyes filled with concern as he looked down at the outfit he was wearing, and took another look at the book in his grasp.

“No, it isn’t a game. MC thought it would be a fun idea to lead you on an adventure to get you to actually come here. We were all in on it. I’d say they did a pretty good job!” Diavolo’s bellowing laugh was accompanied by the biggest grin.

“And before you ask, that book is yours now Levi. I know you will take great care of it. I got special permission from the author himself.” The sorcerer spoke, glancing at Simeon, who shared a pleased smile, followed by a soft nod.

The embarrassed and blushing demon turned to you. “Wow.. I-I can’t believe you did this all for me. This was the best birthday ever!!” With a shy, but excited grin, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I won’t ever forget today. Thank you, MC. I can’t wait to post about this!”

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