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babesonly · 3 years

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fic recs 2.0!

hello kings (gn) ive got significantly more fic than last time which means this is gonna be a little more organized than the last post bc it is much longer <3 categories in order are non casefic canonverse, casefic/roadtrip fic, finale fixits, endverse, non supernatural aus, and then non destiel ones. titles will be in bold for my favs! also within each category they’re in order from shortest to longest

Canonverse

I’m a tulip in a cup by godtiering (1.2k)

I worry that I never really came back from hell. I wonder why, if I got remade by heaven, I’m still the same screwed up kid that I always was.

Sometimes I worry I’m not into women at all.

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

a REALLY good fic that’s basically just a look inside dean’s head during my bloody valentine do not read this looking for a fun time but please do read it

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

“You know,” Cas mutters into Dean’s bare skin. “When I was still… an angel, I used to dream that I would take you as my vessel.”

hello consumehimnatural fans!!!!! read newt’s fic right now its incredible

dean winchester is not a nicholas sparks protagonist by microcomets (1.9k)

Dean fell in love with Cas the way you fall asleep--slowly, and then all at once. Or some other hackneyed and trite bullshit. God, this is embarrassing.

dean is in LOVE. he’s also a disaster who keeps staring at cas’ hands. sigh

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

Coda to 13.06 (Tombstone). In which Castiel reckons with the aftermath of Dean's grief.

hello fellow widow arc fans <3 click here to see cas find out abt the events of advanced thanatology !

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

Between the doomed offensive at the Firmament and the impending retreat from the ravaged northeast border, Castiel left camp long enough to answer one of Dean Winchester's prayers.

S6 DEAN IS A WAR WIFE. been really into early seasons deancas lately and this one is very good. god

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

Ezekiel 39:17 "you shall eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of the princes of the earth."

MY GOD. anyone who saw the @autisticandroids purgatory cannibalism talk and was interested read this right now. also anyone who enjoyed nbc hannibal OR raw (2016). if romantic cannibalism is remotely aligned with your interests read this right now. god

Sam Winchester, Ally At Law by alittleduck (3.3k)

Sam was pretty sure he could read every single gay friendly guide to coming out or supporting queer family members ever written and literally none of them would even imply that arguing with gay people that they were actually just homophobic constituted as "ally behavior". However, Sam was equally sure that none of those book authors had found themselves accidentally watching their brother get pounded by an Angel of the Lord at 9 am on Tuesday, so Sam was pretty sure he might actually still have the higher ground. Now, if only Jack would stop trying to bond with Dean using gay slurs long enough for Sam to convince everyone of that, he might just be able to cobble together some remnant of sanity or, failing that, dignity.

Or, the one where Sam desperately wants to invent PFLAG but Dean won't stop teaching Jack gay slurs

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS.

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

Dean pulls the Impala over at a cider barn about thirty miles out; doesn't really think about it, just sees the hokey orange lettering off the roadside and lets his hands guide the Impala off the interstate with gravel spitting under the wheels.

they get a nice day out together and dean has a gay crisis and it’s written beautifully mwah

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi (3.9k)

In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything.

sometimes i think about this fic and it hits that at this point dean and cas would have been married for more than a year. cas my beloved...

an exploration of gender; angelic by sometimeswelose (4k)

Castiel's true form is made of electromagnetic radiation. He has spent the majority of his life, if you really want to add it all up and average the whole thing out, as a wavelength of celestial intent.

The thing about being made of light: it's light in the physics sense of the word. Castiel's waves are gamma, x-ray, micro, and radio. He's visible light too, of course, a visible light so intense that it is blinding to most humans.

hello trans cas community <3 he’s literally trans he was assigned genderless and then went hm actually i will be a man! love of my life

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny.

ohhh deans tenuous relationship with his sexuality my beloved...

love. worship. consummation. consumption. by redeyedwrath (4.3k)

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

These are all snapshots centered around the idea of you know. Hunger in Supernatural. Both carnal hunger and other kinds. Fics are shown in semi-chronological order but this series is generally nebulously early seasons.

for ANYONE who is a consumehimnaturual this is required reading it is INCREDIBLE and gorgeous and very visceral and i am so very obsessed with it. thank you redeyedwrath for enabling my brainrot

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

“You know what Jimmy Novak looked like. You think he was beautiful—gorgeous, hot, all of it. It’s him. Not me. This isn’t my face.”

“But,” Dean says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it. Just that Cas’ face is right there, brows drawn together and cheekbones gleaming in the lamplight. It’s a face that’s made his heart skip probably a couple hundred beats collectively since they met.

And it used to belong to someone else.

this one is just very nice <3 cas gets uncomfortable w dean calling him attractive since dean has never seen his trueform and they work it out

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

Alone in Purgatory and hunted by Leviathans, Castiel finds himself praying to the one person who can't hear him.

cas i love you <3 cas alone in purgatory praying to dean bc dean is the only thing he still worships i love you so much

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well.

written in s5 when cas was depowered and completely nails the later seasons bitchy husbands dynamic it’s very good and fun <3

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

very bittersweet very well written and also canon compliant so do not go into this one looking for a happy ending but i DO recommend it it’s very good

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

“When I first came to earth, it was advised that we temper the senses bound to our vessels. They were a distraction, we were told. An antiquated form of experiencing existence that would hinder our ability to complete our missions, whatever that may be. My true form can better facilitate these experiences. What you would recognize as heightened senses of sight and sound, among other things.”

Or, how Dean helps Cas experience all five human senses for the first time in one night.

early seasons deancas man. i love the sound part i love dean being so worried about doing a good job with this. god. read this please

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

Dean’s violent reaction to being unexpectedly woken has become something of a running joke among them, but Castiel can’t help but look past it to the underlying cause. It makes him ache to think that Dean feels so unsafe, so persecuted, before he’s even fully conscious.

Secretly, Castiel has been determined to work on that, to ease Dean into awareness in a less jarring way, smooth away one of the many stresses that follow him even in sleep. Now’s as good a time as any to try.

oh to sleep more soundly in the presence of someone you love...this fic is very nice i enjoyed it a lot

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

hello trans dean community here is 7k of trans dean having to deal with his internalized homophobia now that he’s sleeping with cas <3 it is SO good

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

He takes a shower and the pressure is not especially good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s warm and he stands under the spray a long time. Human skin, he knows, constantly renews itself, shedding the dead cells of the epidermis. He wonders how long it will take until he is an entirely new person, until every cell on his surface is a new one. He looks at his hands under the water. It might take less than a month.

this might be the only post 9x03 fic on here with a happy ending actually? plenty of good melancholy leading up to it though <3 canon divergent after 9x03 though which means no 9x06 fanfiction gap but it is absolutely worth reading

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

hello this one is SO funny dean finally gets comfortable enough with his bisexuality to start having sex with men and it goes so very bad every time so sorry about your shitty choices beloved </3

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

this one is very sweet i liked it a lot <3 good refreshing little fic where they just get to have a nice evening together

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

Dean settles on to his side, lying in the bed facing Castiel. “So you had sex without me and you bit all my moves. I think I deserve to hear about it, at least. What was her name?”

op im in love with you. premise is established relationship deancas and cas mentions he did have sex before dean and not only that it was a threesome. good for him <3 this fic is cas describing the story of what led up to the threesome and what happened during it while dean interrupts regularly. incredible

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

“What?” Dean says, fake-offended. “I’d be hot as a girl, you know I would.”

And this is when he really, really should have stopped talking. When he shouldn't have whipped back around and asked, “Cas, if I was a woman, you’d fuck me, right?”

Because if he hadn’t said that, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this:

Cas, meeting his eyes, forehead wrinkles all smoothed out like there’s nothing to be confused about anymore. Cas with something at the corner of his mouth that might barely be called a smile.

Cas saying, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes, Dean.”

Dean Winchester fucks around and, with the inadvertent help of some witches, Finds Out.

dean winchester your gender is diabolical. this fic is insane and its the only thing that matters actually. dean fully convinced its normal and straight to think about being a woman so you can fuck your male friend. incredible. op im proposing to you

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

Dean listens to Nina Simone, reads Anne Carson, and makes out with a dude (sort of).

yall want to read about dean realizing he’s in love with a man as a direct result of learning to better respect women right?

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

Dean Winchester and Castiel retire from hunting to raise baby Jack. Dean struggles to allow himself the things he truly wants.

Jack is two, Castiel and Dean are idiots, and Sam's gotta solve everyone's problems.

love a married couple who doesn’t know they’re married <3 everyone say thank you sam for bullying dean

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

a classic for good fucking reason. we’ve all talked about dean thinking holding hands is too gay after having just had gay sex but my personal favorite was sam accusing dean of cheating on cas because dean bought condoms. incredible

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

literally the only quarantine fic i’ve ever bothered to read in any fandom and completely worth it it’s SO good. they become fwb and dean has an existential crisis and he keeps bringing up meaninglessness and death during sex

Bodies by Speary (18k)

It was a secret they never acknowledged even with each other. It would change everything, end everything if either of them ever dropped the act. So they became very good at acting, at keeping up the lie that gave them what they wanted. Even if that lie involved constantly seeking out temporary, consenting female vessels, Cas would do it. He told himself it was worth it for Dean. He just hoped that he could stop wanting more, or maybe one day Dean might stop pretending that he wasn't really sleeping with Cas every time.

i don’t even have anything to add tbh if that summary did not immediately make you click we are very different this fic is incredible. god. fellas do you ever make yourself a woman so you can fuck the man you love without him having to talk about it or confront his sexuality

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe (20k)

So the man crouching in front of Castiel is named Dean. He wonders if that’s supposed to mean something to him.

“Cas must’ve got hit with something earlier. He just dropped like a sack of fucking potatoes a minute ago. By the time I was checking on him, he had already woken up again, but now he doesn’t fucking know who we are.”

“I’m right here you know,” Castiel says testily.

Sam’s eyes are wide even as his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks between Dean and Castiel again.

“What do you remember, Cas?”

“Firstly, that I’m not Cas. I don’t know who Cas is, but it’s not me. I don’t know who either of you are, either."

or the one where castiel is hit with a memory curse that makes him forget the winchester brothers and is stunned to find out he has a family... also why can't he stop thinking about dean?

BEST amnesia fic oh my god. cas my beloved you deserve the world. everyone read this that is not a request.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

this entire series is really good i enjoyed it a lot, i’m just putting this one specifically on the list bc the rest of the series is very explicit and this is really good as a standalone for anyone who wouldn’t be into the rest of the series!!

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."

Who the fuck was this bitchy "warrior of God" doing talking to him like that? Fuck Cas-tee-el and his dumbass trench coat and abrasive motherfucking attitude.

Dean was done with this shit.

***

Wherein a monster of the week steals the essence of Castiel's vessel, so he must use Dean, recently raised from hell, as a vessel instead.

it is at this point i realize that there are more fics than i expected there to be on this list that involves a threesome with only two people/using the presence of a female body to act like what’s happening is heterosexual. deangirlism is a disease

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

His grace is burning out, and the wasteland it leaves inside him becomes an echo chamber for all the memories, all the fear and doubt and self-loathing he's collected over the years. Things said and done hound him on endless repeat until he's convinced they’ll break through his skin and fill the silence of the bunker.

His head is killing him, and he sits hunched over an open book, not really reading, just digging his fingers into his skull and praying nothing slips through the cracks.

this one is GORGEOUS i love it so so much. dean and cas are both struggling so much to get by and they’re trying to support each other but fucking it up and they have to grow together and learn to cope with the fact that this is where their lives are and they fall in love i need everyone to read this

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

Title: Just One of Those Things Author: Impala67 Series: TOS Rating: M Summary: Four years into their five-year mission, and all the planets start to look the same.

In which Dean is not Gene Roddenberry, but he does write Star Trek fanfiction.

mx winchester writing star trek fanfiction to process his own trauma <3 this is a wip but it’s SO good and i also have not consumed a single piece of star trek media so it IS definitely readable to anyone who isn’t a star trek fan. please read this

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

“Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

this is on here just for the 1.5 people who were putting off this one like i did for no reason. it’s extremely good and it is just gentle. i enjoyed it a lot

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

yall ever wonder what it would’ve been like if the sam and dean arrest storyline in s12 was interesting? yeah <3

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

cas learning about humanity through poetry before dean and thats what led to him developing enough emotion to be lobotomized....cas i love you so much

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

another cool amnesia fic!! for unknown reasons everyone forgot cas three years ago but cas didn’t forget anything. cas deserves so much love and support. god

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

cas getting to meet and fall in love with pre hell dean just as much as he loves the dean he already knows oh my GOD. i love this fic so much. turn of the earth my beloved

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

Two Deans, one Cas - it's not as sexy as it sounds

An ethics lesson from Hell

The one where Dean from the past meets Dean in the present. They're not sure they like each other very much.

deans intense self hatred vs cas’ unwavering love for every version of dean oh my GOD also this is a wip fair warning but it’s so worth waiting for updates i’m having such a great time with this one i cannot wait to see how it gets ended

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

saltyfeathers said i WILL make the plot holes in this show mean something because the showrunners are sure as shit never gonna adress them ! and i thank them for it bc this was a really cool read

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

Dean's breathing is audible in the scant space between them, irregular. The motel room is dark, pale blue shadows falling in through the gaps in the blinds. Throwing a pattern of uneven white stripes over the bunched up covers. Over Dean's fingers twisted in the sheets. One half of him in shadow, softened by the dark. The heat of his skin. The tremble of him under Castiel's touch.

He caresses a hand over Dean's chest, slowly. Dean's mouth falls open, his body arching into Castiel's touch. Castiel stops over Dean's heart. Through the fever of his desire, he rejoices about the wonder of experiencing another's heartbeat through one's own senses.

Dean gasps, but then he turns his face away and towards the dark. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like something is hurting him.

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

the case is background on this one but it Does take place over the course of a case so im putting it here. god touchstarved dean trying so hard to work through his shit for cas head in my hands i love this fic so much

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

chapter 2 of this one.....god. dean and cas you are both so unwell <3 i love everything abt this fic everyone read it now

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon (15k)

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

fics that make you go Oh they love each other...also there’s lesbians in it literally what else could you want.

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

this fic is just like. it’s kind! this fic is kind it’s just a pleasant experience and i enjoyed it thoroughly. they’re in love and it’s good

Suck It, Judy Garland by GlitterDwarf, midrashic (20k)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

actually im gonna defend dean here imagine youre dean and cas gives what definitely sounded like a deathbed love confession while making eye contact with you and then immediately afterwards fake dates your brother. who among us would not have been a bitch about this

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

It’s nearing three a.m. and they’ve been on the road a long time. Sam’s been asleep in the back seat since eleven. Giving up and handing the wheel over to Cas and letting the guy who doesn’t sleep drive had seemed like a good idea.

the premise of this fic is so funny. cas voice dean you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid. everyone read this

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo (22k)

This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore.

alt version of getting rid of the mark of cain, the darkness never happens. this one is VERY heavy but it’s so good and it has a hopeful ending. ive read this one twice and loved it both times

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (45k)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

hello op please contact me. please contact me and let me see the inside of your brain. this fic was an unparalleled experience and everyone should also go through it. i love it so very much

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that is them?

one of my absolute fav case fics it forces dean to confront some aspects of johns parenting and work through some shit and also him and cas fall in love and it’s really well done. love this one a lot <3

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

this one is just extremely funny. local midwestern heterosexual man is forced to play relationship counselor to the dumbest gay people in existence because one of them wore his face

Dean Winchester Really Needs To Make Some Gay Friends by AreYouReady (2.2k)

“Like, I’m trying to think if I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. If I ever had a gay thing before you came along and just didn’t notice,” Dean said.

Cas suddenly looked down, and away from Dean. If Dean didn’t know better, he would swear Cas looked guilty.

“What is it, Cas?”

“You have had several… gay things before.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him.

“What? When? How come you know this better than I do?”

There was no way the answer to this question wasn’t funny as hell.

dean learning about gay ppl via the memories of dean smith...incredible.

tiny difference (between ending and starting to begin) by sunforgrace (2.4k)

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

It doesn’t happen often. Not when Dean’s around to tell, anyway. But often enough that he starts to notice.

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

Cas just doesn’t watch the sky. He watches the birds.

Chuck is gone, Cas is human, and the world is safe. In the quiet aftermath Dean and Castiel find each other again.

i really don’t have much to say abt this one it is just very good and they love each other so much

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

Dean's phone doesn't ring on the drive back to the Bunker, but that's okay. Because—well, maybe Cas lost his cell, what with getting shuffled back and forth between a cosmic void dimension and all. And anyway, Dean doesn't want this conversation to happen over the phone, he wants to—he wants to talk to Cas face-to-face. They should talk face-to-face.

Dean will tell him—

Dean doesn't know what he'll tell Cas. Dean is, in fact, terrified by how utterly and completely he does not know what he'll say to Cas.

cas being forced to face the consequences of sending the risky text that was despair <3

dean’s coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda by cowboydeanwinchester (4.1k)

Dean started working at a local auto repair shop in Lebanon, Kansas about a year ago. His coworkers don't know much about him. Except that he has a wife. Or maybe he doesn't. But he has a kid. Who is either a toddler or a high schooler. Who is either named Jack or Sammy. He also might have a best friend named Cas, but that also might be his wife.

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

obsessed w people not knowing a single fucking thing about dean because he talks so much and never explains anything. this fic is SO funny

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

the empty playing mind games on an awake cas bc it can’t put him to sleep is a thing i like a lot and this is very very good

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

dean and cas STILL managing to not communicate with each other properly after the confession is so funny to me and this fic does it really well. also i like that a human being in the empty, where humans do NOT belong, had some like. consequences

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

“There you are,” the Empty says, in Dean’s voice. It’s cold, like Dean’s eyes are cold, his expression set in contempt. It’s the expression Cas feared, he realizes, all the times he thought about saying it. Revulsion. It makes him feel sick in the way that goes beyond physical, here where there is nothing physical left.

The moment before it happened had been so sweet it covered up all the hurt. For years, Cas had been holding back those words, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying them. And now he had said it, and he knew that it was good, knew that it was worth it. But on the other side there is only this.

In the Empty, Cas dreams of his regrets, until someone comes looking for him.

one of thee best dean rescues cas from the empty fics out there i love the way his memories are written i love how many of them were ones that this fic came up with to give me new things to have brainworms over instead of just making me more fixated on He Watched Him Rake Leaves than i already am

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

It's been four years since Dean saved Cas from the Empty and confessed his feelings in return, and in their Vermont lakehouse, the retired couple is now learning how to heal. One morning, Dean gives Cas a haircut.

(A character study of Castiel.)

perfect fic perfect fic no notes no complaints they love each other so much and now dean is giving cas a haircut and they’re spending the day together. god.

and every time we kiss, i swear i can fly by knameless (14k)

Every time, Dean tells himself it’s the last.

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

a just boy best friends kiss for every season <3 mwah

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

'a prayer for which no words exist' // richard siken

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

mediawhore i am in LOVE with you oh my god this fic. this fic. dean taking care of cas after rescuing him dean wrapping cas in a blanket oh my GOD

swimming with the fish pond fish by februyuri (17k)

Some time between Dean bleeding out on a makeshift hook in a barn in Ohio and Sam making marshmallows on his funeral pyre, Dean was brought back to life. By Castiel. Again. Dean agreed to it if only to give Jack time to work out the glitches up top. So, now Dean’s back in the land of the living and things are ... actually good, for once.

Or, as good as they can be when demons are attacking Earth, Dean’s failing to get over why he died in the first place, and Cas is suddenly, inexplicably taking every opportunity to casually tell Dean that he loves him.

this is a wip! but it is so good and so worth the read i love it a lot and am very excited for the last chapter. it IS pretty heavy though dean has a LOT to work through

looking like a true survivor (feeling like a little kid) by courfeyrac (20k)

"Jack’s a clever kid—has been ever since he was born, maybe even before that—but Dean’s pretty sure he hasn’t figured out where they’re going yet. And Dean’s… Dean’s excited about it. He remembers planning surprises for Sammy when they were little—saving up quarters and sneaking off to the arcade the year he turned seven, or slipping a book Dean had seen Sammy admiring into his jacket before sprinting out of the store the year he turned twelve. There was only so much Dean could give him back then, hindered by lack of finances and transportation and a father who paid attention. Now, though, Dean’s got a wallet full of cash, a tank full of gas, and the freedom to give his kid the kind of birthday he deserves."

Or, it's Jack's fourth birthday, and the kid wants to go to Build-A-Bear.

EVERYONE READ THIS RIGHT NOW. that is not a request this fic undid me. oh my god. oh my god. they’re a family and they’re going to build a bear and they love each other. oh my god. also no it isn’t a baby jack fic he is 4 and he is also alcal

what’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles (27k)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

"But have you ever just met someone and maybe it wasn't from the first moment, maybe it was after all these other moments that meant more than you ever expected them to, and it seems like your soul just—just—" Kaia makes a helpless gesture with her hands, pushing out, and she breathes out loudly. "Like it can finally exhale. And that person isn't guaranteed to make you happy, but they're—they're important. You just know it, you can't even escape it, you can't let them go. Ever met someone like that, Dean?"

"I—" Dean halts, his mouth hanging open. He's looking at Kaia, who's looking at him, and his heart is fluttering in his throat like a caged bird aching to soar again. His mind threatens to spiral out of control, but he focuses, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Um. I—yeah, I have."

deancas AND dreamhunter we love to see it also dean DOES smoke weed with kaia and apologizes for pulling a gun on her what more could you want in a fic

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

Dean did a lot of thinking about when and how he would get Cas back. Months of it, actually, stretching into a year, because while Sam and Eileen were settling into their new lives, Dean was stuck. He was stuck in a faraway corner of the bunker, dark and empty and hollow, ringing with the sound of a vibrating phone.

So when he falls to his knees in that same room, exhausted, hurting, breathless, and he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas, he realizes that he doesn't have a single clue about what to do now. Getting Cas out had been easy--actually, it'd been the opposite of that--but the planning of it, the methodical desperation of one attempt after the other had been a familiar rhythm. It'd been soothing almost, solid, something to focus on that wasn't Cas's eyes, watery and jubilant in a way Dean hadn't ever seen that up close on anyone, let alone Cas.

And now Cas is pulling him to his feet, and Dean's stumbling, and he instinctually grabs Cas's arm, and his hand lights up with a fire that he isn't prepared for.

"Hello, Dean."

oh post despair lack of communication....oh dean refusing to work through his feelings...this fic is incredible i love it everyone who enjoys dean doing everything in his power to avoid talking about feelings up to and including having sex with the guy who’s in love with him multiple times should read this

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment.

SOBSICLES TATTOO FIC MY BELOVED. dean grieving and getting tattoos and it turns into tattoo therapy. im SO in love with mitzi it’s insane. requires some suspension of disbelief for how long a tattoo takes but it’s an incredible fic and an unparalleled experience. sobsicles does not miss

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

SUPER cool concept i liked this a lot i’m pretty sure everyone’s read it already but just in case someone hasn’t you absolutely should

oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith by sobsicles (62k)

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't.

~~~

"You don't understand," Dean whispers, exhaling shakily. "I know you don't, because even I don't. The instant you were gone, I wanted you back. Cas, I wanted you back. I wanted—I wanted—"

Cas stares at him, searching his face. After a moment, his own face falls slack, eyes widening just so. "Oh," he breathes out.

Dean wants to be furious that Cas has figured it out before he has—whatever it is—but he's not even that surprised. Cas knows him too well, always has, even more than Dean knows himself. He's been kicking Dean in the goddamn teeth with how deeply he understands him, even about the things Dean doesn't, ever since they first met. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that's what Cas had said. All bundled up in impossibilities and power, this being that looked at Dean Winchester and knew every single inch of him, as if he had a right to each part.

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

the ONLY heaven fic. i do not read heaven fics bc i refuse to budge in my finale denialism i refuse to read fic where it is accepted that dean dies. i was hesitant to read this but god im glad i did it was so good. literally the best possible outcome of dean dying

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

“If I’d actually been born human, would I have gotten sick like everyone else? Would I be running around gnawing on the neighbors?” Castiel tilts his head up and even from here Dean can see the black ring of his pupils, wide and dark as dead stars. He’s high as fuck and he’s been loading the guns for forty-five minutes. He stares into the space where Dean is. He smiles and shows his teeth. “Maybe you’d have already put a bullet in my head.”

"This is why you don’t lead storytime anymore," Dean says. "This kind of shit."

endverse last night on earth fics are something that can be so personal actually. god

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

The very last song is the Song of Solomon, and Castiel sings it only for Dean. Set in "The End."

this is like. pre endverse and the tone is so like. wistful? is the best word ive got? it’s gorgeous i love it but fair warning there is graphic description of like. viscera and infected wounds

to think that we could stay the same by cipherwriter (6.5k)

cas has all he needs; himself, his creation, and enough power to continue this cycle for a long time. he's fine. dean wants to take care of him anyway.

oh my GOD this one is good it’s based off the thing of how originally endverse cas was supposed to be just sitting in a room killing and resurrecting the same cockroach over and over. very bittersweet at some points i love it a lot, do not read it if youre looking for something happy though lmao

the first church at the end of the world by withbloodstainedclothingon (11k)

The angels don’t eat the brain. Only Croats do that.

this one is fucked but it’s incredible it contains very heavy and violent subject matter and cas is an Actual cult leader he doesn’t just have orgies it is SO well done and i had a great time reading it i recommend it very highly if the warnings sound like something you can stomach

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1.1 million. i know. yes it’s a wip)

There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.

The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

PLEASE. i know the length is intimidating i KNOW it’s a very long fic but please. please read down to agincourt i am begging you. head in my HANDS this series is incredible.

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

look man it’s bendingsignpost okay. it’s bendingsignpost it’s good and it’s sweet and you should read it

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

do you ever pretend to be a jehovahs witness for months to hang out with the guy you like because you fucked up asking him out? yeah.

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

Dean is three years sober when Cas comes back into town.

~~~

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dean, once again, has to swallow the urge to offer to swallow something else. It's very hard to resist the gut-wrenching pull of want that hooks in his chest whenever he looks at Cas. And to think, he used to have him, used to be able to act on that want.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

Well, there's no point in kicking himself three years later for shit he can't change. He'll just sit right here and pretend that his fingers aren't twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. He can't do that anymore, and it's his own damn fault.

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

Dean huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah. Eventful."

this fic hit me SO hard emotionally oh my god. don’t have much to say bc most of my thoughts on this fic are very personal but my god read this please

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

this one is SO fun. dating the food critic who called your garlic bread closeted and lying about your career because you’re embarrassed and you want to redeem your food in his eyes but then you fall in love with him

Non Destiel Centric

gender? you mean that thing i have that pisses people off? by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie) (946 words)

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want?

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god.

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #mine

472 notes · View notes

deluluass · 3 years

Text

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions.

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love.

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it.

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on, muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away.

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well).

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!"

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers.

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix.

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't.

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it.

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world.

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.

It disgusted him.

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it.

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways.

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over.

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu.

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy.

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.

"We broke up."

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence.

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted.

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer.

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult.

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.)

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box.

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble.

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed.

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise.

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it.

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends.

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling.

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die.

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted.

Aya held your face with both hands as she stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort."

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed.

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags.

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed.

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way.

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?"

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes.

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze.

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting.

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway.

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium.

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks.

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers.

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation.

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon.

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it.

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner.

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved.

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind.

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate.

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed.

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned.

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here.

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived.

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first.

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled.

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself.

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips.

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?"

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers.

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've.

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you. Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house.

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs.

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit.

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck.

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead.

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples.

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all.

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him.

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again.

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head.

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned. "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you.

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits.

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years

Text

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVII

This is the penultimate part. The last one is written and drafted - I did finish while on vacation. Expect it for next weekend.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV and pt XVI.

It's as everything happens in May. Kurt feels as if he should be used to it by now, but this year is worse than any before. It's understandable, he guesses, what with it being his senior year, but understanding doesn't help. Some of the squares on his wall calendar has so many things on them they're barely legible, and there are days when he wants to just quit it all.

He can always work in his dad's garage for the rest of his life. Surely that's not the worst thing ever?

The only reason he's not a complete wreck when Nationals comes is the Warblers meeting held right after Regionals where David had used logic (how dare he) and suggested their approach to Nationals.

Kurt's first, immediate reaction is “we're never going to win with that” which he also says out loud, only to be met by “so what”.

“I don't say this lightly. I've been a Warbler for four years. It's been amazing to be surrounded by all of these talented people, and make music just because we like it, and that's why I've kept it up even with all the hints I've gotten that my 'future career' would be better served by me spending that time on learning another language or studying harder. After all, what use is singing and dancing for a lawyer?”

There's a bitterness in David's voice, and it's echoed in a number of murmurs around the room.

“This is the one thing I do for fun, that I do just for me, and some days the only thing that makes slogging through my mountain of homework bearable is knowing that once I'm done I can go enjoy Warblers. This year's group hold more talent of all my years here, which is why it hurts to say that I don't think we can win, no matter what setlist we go on with. We're simply not the kind of group that wins a contest like this.”

Which, probably true. The Warblers are good, yes, but they're an all boys a capella group performing in uniforms. They don't have the productions that teams who wins Nationals do. Doesn't mean that it hurts just as much to hear as it hurts to say.

“The truth is – and I'm sorry, I know we don't talk about him, but I have to – the truth is that we didn't even compete before Blaine.”

Kurt expects it to sting to hear his name. It does, but not much. He's moving past that.

“Blaine walked in here and wanted to compete so badly. He spent his first semester here trying to talk us into trying, even with all the reasons we had for not going so, and he got his way. That doesn't change the fact that this is only our second year competing, and we've surpassed all expectations by making it to Nationals. To do so again and win, or even place in the top... I don't think we can do that, not even with all the talent in this room.”

No one likes hearing that, but no one's disagreeing either. They aren't going to win. That's just how it is.

“So why not do that we like? Why don't we pick songs we like and that showcases our strengths? Why don't we sing a song that will make you happy, Kurt? And if it knocks us down in the ranking to do so, who cares? I don't.”

To hear someone say that Kurt's happiness should matter more than placement – to hear David say it, after everything the year before – causes tears to well up in his eyes. To hear every single Warbler agree make those tears fall.

They'd walked out of that meeting stronger than they'd gone in, and Kurt lets himself gather strength from that memory for a few seconds before he steps forward and lets his voice soar.

“Something has changed within me, something is not the same / I'm through with playing by the rules, of someone else's game”

They finish eleventh. It's better than they'd dared to hope, with all the absolutely excellent teams competing. It the joy is tinged with a little bitterness? Who can blame them? Maybe, more than one of them wonders, a more conventional setlist could have placed them among the top ten. At the same time they're all aware that maybe it would have have placed them dead last. There's no way of telling, and no use speculating.

They did their best, enjoyed their performance and finished eleventh at Nationals. That's nothing to look down on. In fact...

“We did better than New Directions last year” Kurt says with a smirk.

They've beaten his old team, his so-called friends, in every way possible and he allows himself to see that as a win.

Finn posts video of all their songs on his Facebook and is proud (and smug) enough to also post the “Defying Gravity” performance in the Glee group with a comment about how Kurt obviously could hit that note, tagging both Rachel and Mr Schue. It's petty, and Kurt should be big enough of a person to ask Finn to remove it, but no. If his brother wants to stand up for him Kurt isn't just going to let him, he's going to be grateful.

Feeling loved and protected is not something he's ever going to scoff at.

Nationals is followed by finals, the less said about the better, and then prom. Or well, “the Dalton Academy and Crawford County Day Joint Spring Formal”. Same thing right?

Wrong.

The spring formal is every thing junior prom wasn't. It's not really the fact that Sebastian asks Kurt properly to be his date for the formal, and compliments his outfit. It's not that even without decorations Dalton's auditorium is more grand than McKinley's gym. It's not even the grand dinner with lit candles, waiters and three courses before the dance or that there's a band that plays waltzes and foxtrot for the first two hours before the DJ is allowed to take over.

It's that even before they've entered the transformed dining hall Kurt spots half a dozen same-sex couples, a number that keeps going up during the evening. It's the fact that he gets to dance the whole evening, not in a group or with a girl, but with Sebastian and the occasional Warbler. Mostly it's Sebastian's arms he's in, and it's amazing.

It's so far from his junior prom and Blaine that it almost hurts.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No. Everything is... This year everything is perfect.”

Sebastian doesn't look entirely convinced, but decides to drop it and instead lean closer for a kiss.

The evening really is perfect.

The morning of his birthday Kurt walks into the dining hall alone only to be met with a table full of Warblers that stand up and sing for him as soon as he clears the door. There's one place left at the table, next to Sebastian, set with the kind of breakfast not even Dalton serves (fresh croissant, strawberries, a piece of brie and a one-person pot of tea) with a rainbow rose in a vase. Kurt sits down with a smile and leans over to kiss his boyfriend's cheek.

“So, rainbow roses are going to be our thing, is it? I love it.”

He spends the day with a smile on his lips, because his boyfriend took the time to do something special for him on his birthday and his friends have promised cake in the Warblers' room after dinner, and he feels loved.

“Cake” turns out to be cheesecake and presents, and more singing, and so much more smiling. Afterwards Sebastian walks him back to his room. There's no kissing though, which Kurt finds unacceptable.

“Isn't there some kind of rule that you get kisses on your birthday? I would have thought that was a part of the boyfriend experience, and to be honest I'm feeling very much unkissed.”

That nets him a crooked smile, but still no kisses. It's almost enough to worry him.

“You can have all the kisses you want, and not just on your birthday, you know that babe. However, there's something else I wanted you to have first.”

Sebastian pulls out a small package from him pocket and hands it over with a smile, which begins to fade when Kurt doesn't immediately take it. It's just, well.

“Another present? You shouldn't have.”

“Another? What do you mean?”

The truth is that Kurt fully expected breakfast and a rose to be the whole of Sebastian's congratulations, and he doesn't quite know how to take getting more than that. He doesn't really know how to explain it though, and definitely not in a way that won't start Sebastian on another rant about how Blaine was unworthy of Kurt's affection. Especially since it's not just about him.

Turns out he doesn't need to say anything – and apparently he's getting yet another present in the form of the absence of that rant.

“Breakfast was a treat. This is your actual present, which I hope you'll like at least as much as that.”

Sebastian looks a little worried as Kurt removes the paper and opens the small box inside (and if he's a little shaky to open a jewelry box from his boyfriend no one needs to know). It's a pair of gorgeous cufflinks with just the right balance between classy and unique and he absolutely loves them.

“These are amazing! They're too much, really, but they're so gorgeous that I'm going to pretend they're not. I love them!” I love you. But that's a bit too early to say, and so instead he leans forward and does his absolute best to communicate exactly that through kissing.

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #kurtbastian #itshtf

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godofplumsandthunder · 3 years

Text

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look.

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.”

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him.

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that?

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer.

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand.

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you.

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic.

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer.

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.”

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.”

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love.

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart.

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.”

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace.

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made.

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying.

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand.

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time.

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time.

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.”

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.”

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

#eury2kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #cancer #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #oneshot

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llogllady99 · 3 years

Text

INTERMISSION

CHARACTERS | Levi, Erwin, Hange, Petra, Nanaba, Mike, Eld, Gunther, Oluo, Moblit

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi

Genre | Reincarnation, Afterlife

IV | Afterlife, Hurt/Comfort, Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting/ Reincarnation, Fluff, Reunions, Introspection.

SUMMARY | Levi dies and reunites with Erwin and the others in the Afterlife.

WORD COUNT | 2.5k

It was one of those sunny days that Levi passed away. The kind of days that occurred in the middle of summer, sun shining proudly in the centre of the sky, beaming with light in all directions; its yellow rays placing gentle kisses and giving shape to everything around them. A breeze blew gently, ruffling the blades of overgrown grass, flowers, and other plants that were blooming by a pristine and crystalline river. A river so clean and fresh that even the tiniest of rocks could be visible. Southern Magnolias, Flowering Dogwoods, birch, and oak trees lined the river and gardens of the people resided in the area. On such particular days, Levi could be found gardening away his late adulthood; his garden was the most clean and organised with freshly mowed lawn and colourful flowers, trees, and bushes placed meticulously around the alleyway that lead to the entrance of the house, the backyard, by his windows and entrances, and inside the house. Therefore, it should have been no surprise when Levi spent his last day doing exactly that: cleaning, organising, and arranging things.

It came unexpectedly, like death often does. It should have upset Levi, he was still considered too young to die by the rest of the world, but he himself couldn’t have been more happier, more relieved, and at peace. It had started with a soft breeze, blowing through his now white strands of hair that were still arranged in the same familiar undercut and under his white cotton dress shirt that was a bit oversized. Then came a wave of unfamiliar fatigue, causing Levi to lie on his back on the grass, his eyes now on the sapphire sky, watching the different sized clouds move along in slow motion. Somehow he knew his time had come, he always had great intuition. With black now cornering his vision, the man closed his eyes, letting the sun rest gently on his face, warming him one last time. He smelled the sweet aroma of his flowers, he listened to the almost silent buzz of a bee in the distance, appreciating the things he had become so used to. Finally ready, Levi inhaled deeply, and with a contented smile spreading on his tired and wrinkled face, exhaled slowly as everything went black, sounds and sensations ebbing away gradually.

However, the world didn’t stop, the sun still shone, the birds still sang their relaxing songs, their high pitched chirps sounding through the valleys, the wind still blew, and the clouds in the sky still travelled their never ending journey; a perfect day for humanity’s strongest soldier to pass away.

Levi was now engulfed in deep darkness, thick and relentless. Silence reigning over the infinite void. It wasn’t a heavy silence or an uncomfortable one but rather comforting and warm, making him feel at peace in god knows how long. He looked down at his hands, they weren’t wrinkly anymore but soft and smooth again. He was back in his original form, his old inky black hair hanging daintily on his forehead, his cheekbones once again high and sharp, his eyes now a strong grey steel, and his lips rosy red. His body was also young again. Now that he was in this purgatory of sorts, a giant screen appeared in front of him, displaying moments from his life in chronological order. He saw himself as a baby, his mother cutting for the first time his hair in an undercut, his mother telling him stories, embracing him, loving him. Then came her death, her horrible death, leaving Levi alone. His uncle Kenny made his appearance on the screen, taking him under his care, teaching him how to fight and defend himself after walking away never to be seen again. It showed how he met Isabell and Furlan, the days they spent together in the underground. The blonde boy reading to them by the fire, Isabell snoring in Levi’s lap, his hands in her hair, twisting the ginger strands, Levi defending the redhead in a fight, and Isabell telling them jokes one night whilst playing cards. All of the precious moments now unfolding before his eyes. It made Levi’s heart swell with happiness at seeing their faces again. He had forgotten their faces after so much time but seeing them now reminded him of their bond, their brother like bond. Then he joined the survey corps and shit hit the fan.

Next came memories of joining the survey corps, of seeing Erwin for the first time, their first kiss, first time making love, moving in the same room together, going out with his comrades, Hange, Nanaba, Mike, Moblit, everyone made an appearance on the screen. Then came the brats, their round baby faces and bright eyes full of determination. Retaking wall Maria. Erwin’s death…

It displayed the four years in between their battles. The years when he moved in with Hange and having tea with them every other afternoon before making the plans for the attack on Liberio. The shit show started, the whole fucking rumbling, Eren going batshit crazy, Mikasa killing him, and them staying behind in Marley. His friendship blossoming with the other two brats and finally tasting true freedom, a world with no walls where the sky was the limit. Other sequences also played, like how he returned to Paradis, Gabi and Falco’s visits, who were now married and living happily in some exotic country, and then the day he died. He would have argued he lived a beautiful life, one which he certainly didn’t regret, but after Erwin’s and Hange’s death his only purpose was to survive the day, get through it and ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

If this was the after life, why wasn’t anyone here? Did he do something wrong? Where was Erwin? Didn’t he promise he’ll be waiting for him? For the first time in the darkness, Levi felt suffocated, he couldn’t breathe, the overwhelming feeling he did something wrong washed over him, imbuing his every cell and tissue. Luckily, before he could finish that destructive train of thought, a glimmer of white appeared in the distance. As the small dot got bigger and bigger, Levi realised it was some kind of vortex that was sucking everything in it, including him. It sucked in his feet first then his hips, stomach, arms and finally his head. Everything went white around him, his spirit was travelling with so much speed that he felt he was inside an airplane engine, the turbines spinning faster and faster, the noise getting louder and louder, and finally the plane took off. As the noise reached its apex, Levi’s surroundings became silent until he was pushed out of the vortex and into the afterlife, the one in which his comrades also seemed to be.

Levi landed bottom first and with a thud, his backside coursing with pain. He flinched and got up. He scanned his surrounding and noticed that in the far off distance there was a group of people. Relief washed over his entire being as the feelings of panic and loneliness left him entirely. One by one he willed his feet to move, each step becoming more hurried, until he broke out in a run. The shape of the group was getting bigger and bigger as Levi closed the distance between them. The closer he got, the more he could make out their faces. Wait! Was that blonde and messy brown? Hange and Erwin? Happiness started blossoming in his chest, like a bush of Camelias in spring, the flowers opening up more and more, becoming bigger and bigger covering the whole green bush with their beautiful pure white and milky pink. A smile grazed his features and tears started falling down his face, each droplet streaming down his jawline then falling on the ground behind him.

“Erwin!” Levi shouted, finally getting his lover’s attention. Erwin turned, wide eyed as he recognised his voice and broke into one of his famous full mouth grins. He extending his arms, inviting the raven in. Levi gladly took that invitation, jumping on Erwin and sending both of them tumbling down, wrapping his arms tightly around the blonde, sniffling that familiar cent of cologne and tobacco. “You waited for me! I can’t believe you waited.”

“Of course I did, in fact all of us did. Look around Levi, we’re all here.” Levi lifted his face and looked around, his eyes landing on Hange grinning maniacally at him, Nanaba and Mike close to each other, Moblit, and his squad.

“Heya guys! Long time no see I guess.” Levi stood up from Erwin and made his way in between the group, taking everyone’s faces in. They were all here. He looked in Hange’s direction, they now looked truly happy without a care in the world. He approached them and wrapped them in a tight embrace, one which he so seldom offered when they were alive.

“Hey short stuff. Gotta admit watching over ya from up here got kinda boring. You were never up to any shenanigans, you just sat there all day reading your damn newspaper and drinking that awful tea.” Hange playfully reprimanded him. Levi snorted then play kicked their feet. Petra came up and hugged him from behind, burying her soft ginger hair between his shoulder blades. She inhaled shakily and choked out:

“Missed you so much, Levi Heichou.” Levi turned around and tucked some of her hair behind her year, setting his hand on her cheek, rubbing with one thumb a tear that spilled from her left eye. The raven then wrapped her tightly in the same hug he’d given Hange, burying her small head in his shoulder. “Missed you too.”

Mike came up and sniffed his hair, his nose scrunching up taking up as much of the sent as possible and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, trying to pin point the smells. He then patted Levi on the shoulder and told him:

“You still smell the same, maybe except with a hint of a flowery touch to it.”

“Always so romantic.” Levi replied, shaking his hand like brothers do. Nanaba came up behind Mike and offered him one of her beautiful smiles. “Great seeing you Levi, but Mike,” she then grabbed the tall man’s hand pulling him towards her, “it’s time for us to go.”

“Go where?” Levi asked frantically, he just got here why were they going already?

“We will get reincarnated, me, Mike, and Erwin.” Nanaba replied casually as if it was the most natural thing. Levi started hyperventilating.

“Why?” He croaked. “I just got here, you can’t go! Not yet! Erwin please don’t go!” He looked around and found the blonde standing next to Mike, he grabbed his hand tightly, urging him not to go, however it was for nothing as his lover wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t Levi, my time has come.” Erwin grabbed both of his hand and kissed his knuckles and fingers, rubbing them against his cheek. “I need you to watch over me and when your time comes too, join me. We’ll meet again, in a world with no titans and infinite time on our hands. We will truly be happy there.”

“Fine, but promise me you won’t do anything stupid Erwin. Wait for me.” Levi demanded, raising himself on his tip toes and pulling Erwin down for a passionate kiss. After they parted, Erwin stepped next to Nanaba and Mike again and waved his big hand at the others before all three of them vanished from sight.

Over time, the same exact thing happened to the others. Eld and Gunther went, shortly followed by Auruo, the other people also gradually disappearing to god knows where. After some time, only him, Hange, Petra, and Moblit were left. Now it seemed that Moblit’s time had come too, if the bear hug he gave Hange was anything to go by. Offering them one last kind smile, Moblit vanished, leaving now only the three of them. Hange cried that day, harder than he ever saw them do it and Petra rested her head on Levi’s shoulder, sorrow and longing also emanating from her being. For a few years, all they could do was watch. Watch Erwin’s seventh birthday party, Mike and Nanaba chewing on their toys, Eld being adopted, guess he didn’t have much luck in this life either, Gunther ride his bike, Auruo playing his first song on the piano and so on. On a not so special day, when they resumed their seats and watched over the others, Hange stood up and with a kind smile and wave their hand they vanished too. Levi cried and so did Petra, they missed their friend dearly but it was bound to happen. A few short months after Petra also left, leaving Levi alone, drowning in the familiar feeling of loneliness.

A month after, Levi got visitors in the after life, they were Armin, Mikasa, and Annie. They greeted their captain and took their seats next to him, joining him in watching over his friends.

“I guess now I have you brats to watch over me when I’ll go down there.” He joked, getting a pat on the back from Armin.

“Hopefully, in the next life I won’t be a midget anymore, You guys don’t know how fucking hard that has been for me.” That earned him a laugh from all of them. Over the next two months all of them got closer together, Armin and Mikasa telling him about how his death impacted everyone. Apparently it has been a national funeral, all the nobles and even queen gathering around his coffin. How ironic.

One day, Levi woke up groggier than usual and much more heavy. It felt as if the ground was pulling him towards it. It was no doubt: his time had come. Armin was the only one that was watching the world down below, Mikasa and Annie sleeping soundly a few feet away. Levi sat next to him and cleared his throat, redirecting the blonde’s attention to him.

“This reincarnation thing is so beautiful, getting a second chance in a world not as cruel as ours.” Armin began. “I’m glad we aren’t stuck here forever, it gets more boring every day.”

“Try doing that shit for seven years.”

“That’s really long. I can’t stand this place anymore and I’ve only been here for what? Two months? If you don’t mind me asking, who was the first to go?” Armin asked, a little bit shy in case he was prying too much.

“Erwin.” Armin’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I just got here and he was already gone. But now is my time and I’ll finally be reunited with him.” Levi stood up and grabbed Armin’s hand also pulling him to his feet. “See ya Armin, you were always my favourite cadet.”

Bringing his fists and arms to his chest, delivering his last salute to the 15th Commander of the Survey Corps, he vanished, white clouding his vision. Everything went black afterwards.

The next time Levi opened his eyes, he was crying his eyes out and shouting like a mad man, his little legs and arms kicking and moving in all directions. He had been born into the new world.

Notes:

A song I would recommand while reading the fic is It's been a long, long time. Anyways, thank you for taking the time to read it and notes and comments are welcomed, Obviously, I do not own Attack on titan or any of the characters that take part in it. They are inspiration for my works and I love them to the core. Thank you again lovelies for taking the time to read it! <333

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romiithebirdie · 3 years

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Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 3

"Never fear, for I am here!"

That was the cheerful catchphrase of the children's television icon, All Might. When anything bad happened, All Might would arrive and save the day. He always won with a bright beam worn proudly across his face, radiating pure joy not only in the show but for children all over the nation who tuned in to watch him.

But for Toshinori Yagi it was a part of his past that he'd rather move on from. Living in solitude as a wealthy retired actor with only a few friends and family members made it difficult for him to genuinely smile nowadays.

Something he could still not grasp to this day;

He had everything.

Money, fame, properties and adoring fans all around the world.

Yet, his heart felt so hollow. Like somebody had reached in and torn in from his chest, discarding it like the useless piece of flesh it was.

If you asked him, he'd be surprised if he even still had a heart under his paper-thin skin.

During the last few years of his starring role as the smiling superhero, he had been involved in a major car collision that damaged his internal organs beyond repair. After months of surgeries and other frequent visits to the hospital, he had retired due to his declining health.

His adoptive father-figure Sorahiko Torino always made it a habit to visit frequently, though Toshinori himself preferred to stay in isolation. Far, far away from the prying eyes of his stern and no-nonsense father and his constant lectures about bad habits and whatnot.

Though he knew it was deeply childish, Toshinori still felt a rebellious thrill from aggravating Sorahiko just as he had done in his youth.

While Torino had always been known for his grumpy attitude, he took up to eleven after the incident involving his closest friend, Nana Shimura. Like Sorahiko, she had worked as a high-ranking member of the Police Force and had taken a squad to raid the hideout of a dangerous wanted criminal.

The notorious A.F.O killer.

He had been given that name due to the fact that all of his victims had the three initials carved into parts of their bodies.

However, it hadn't gone as planned and the entire building went up in flames. The majority of the squad had escaped with minor injuries, but Nana inhaled far too much smoke during her attempts at fleeing to safety which caused her to fall unconscious. Several hours later, she had passed away in the ER department.

It was a massive shock to everybody. Nobody could have seen it coming.

The criminal's body was never found or recovered, the authorities eventually pegging it down to have burned into nothing during the inferno due to the fact nobody had come forward with grievous burns in any of the hospitals in Japan.

A fitting way to end the life of such a cruel and evil man. Scorched into a smudge on the ground, leaving nothing but joy to the civilians who had feared for their lives during his spree.

While many would call it a horrifying end, Toshinori called it justice.

Losing Nana was truly a tragedy and both Toshinori and Sorahiko suffered badly with mourning the kind woman's death. While Sorahiko took to his study and spent many days and nights alone, Toshinori's behaviour grew more challenging and he had started fighting at school and in public.

He wasn't a bad kid.

He just hadn't known how to deal with his own grief. It made him feel hollow inside, like his heart was devoid of anything.

Nana Shimura was like a secondary parental figure to Toshinori. She would watch movies with him, take him and Torino out for long drives in the city and countryside while always proudly wearing a smile on her face.

The television hero All Might's constant beam was a complete homage to Shimura in every way.

If only she had been around to see him in his hayday…

Would she still be proud of him now?

Knowing how far he'd fallen.

Turning to drinking and not taking care of his health properly… Every time he'd cough up the coppery taste of blood from the back of his throat, he truly felt as if the Grim Reaper himself was slowly approaching, waiting for his final breath before tearing his soul and taking his spirit to the afterlife.

No. What he'd thought about Nana...

That wasn't true.

Nana would have never judged him. Back then and even now.

She was kind-hearted and had so much empathy, especially for somebody who worked in the field that she did. It was something Toshinori truly admired about the woman, other than her fierce passion for her work.

Glancing at the IV cord that was attached to his arm, he let out a deep sigh before heaving himself from his own hospital bed and beginning to hobble out of his private room. A coffee from the café downstairs sounded pretty good right about now…

Whisky would have been better but beggars couldn't be choosers.

.-.-.-.-.

Izuku rushed through the hospital entrance, clutching the leather straps of his backpack as his crimson shoes squeaked along the polished floor. He'd been given the brief details of what had happened at his apartment by the police officers after his mother had been taken away in an ambulance.

The kind officers had then given the teen a ride to the hospital where they had accompanied Izuku with getting the name of the ward where his mother had been taken. After giving a quick bow of thanks, Izuku had shot across the car park and towards the building at lightning fast speed.

From the looks of the ward names, it seemed his mother was on one of the higher floors so Izuku decided to take the elevator up; only to almost crash into a tall, blond haired man holding a steaming paper cup who was also waiting for the elevator doors to open.

"I'm so sorry!" the boy yelped, ducking his head while the blond chuckled, fondly shaking his head at the teen. Izuku noted the IV drip and was stricken with more guilt, so much so that he ignored an unpleasant feeling wash over him while being in close range of the stranger.

You nearly knocked a patient over, you complete idiot.

Ding!

As sweet as mercy, the elevator doors opened and the two entered with Izuku allowing the older man to go in first out of respect. It was the least he could do after almost barrelling into him.

"Why thank you, young man," Toshinori smiled, taking a sip of his coffee while watching Izuku fidget around the elevator buttons. He chose to step in, "I'm going to the fifth floor, my boy."

"Ah, that's great, I'm going up to the ninth."

Izuku pressed the buttons and stepped back, feeling the weight of the floor lift underneath his feet. For a few awkward seconds, nobody said a word until a familiar, unwanted chill blew into the boy's face.

He knew it all too well.

They wanted to communicate with him again.

The tiny space of the elevator only did more to trigger an overwhelming feeling of utter claustrophobia, it felt like the silver reflective walls were closing in on him. Izuku suddenly wanted nothing more than to shrink into himself and cower away with his face covered.

Please go away.

Izuku's desperate emeralds met with Toshinori's dull blue, the two immediately connected as the teen bit back a choked gasp that he tried to fight. Foggy imagery immediately began taking over his senses as the familiar raven-haired lady held onto the blond's shoulders like she was embracing him.

No, no, no.

Izuku was seeing them once again, just like all the other times.

Usually he'd see them in short-timed wisps like the smoke of a dead candle flame. A few whispers in his ears and cold spots but nothing as humanoid as what he was seeing now.

He immediately reached for his bag and fumbled around for the zipper, shakily trying to fight against the fabric trapping his zip in the same position. Upon ripping it open, not caring whether or not he'd broken the lining, he began frantically raking through the contents inside.

Where was that damned medication?!

Various whispers combined into one ghostly chorus entered his ears, making them ring like a loud case of tinnitus as he stepped back, trying to compose himself.

"Tell him. Please. Tell him."

"Please," Izuku pleaded as he squirmed, hand darting out and snatching the blond stranger's striped pyjama sleeve. They wouldn't leave until he did what they asked, "She says she's proud. N-never think otherwise."

Toshinori's mind screeched to a complete halt as he whirled around completely on the teen holding onto him, "What?" he spluttered, not quite sure he'd heard what had just come out of the kid's mouth properly. Surely he'd misheard?

"She's proud," Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, as if speaking the words pained him. "Nana says she'll always be proud of you."

Toshinori turned his head around so fast, Izuku's own neck ached at the sight.

Finally, he spoke; "How do you know Nana?"

"I don't," Izuku wavered, glancing at the ghostly hands clutching the thin fabric covering Toshinori's shoulders. "But she said you knows you."

Knows? The older male frowned, unsure of what that even meant.

"Let me rephrase," Toshinori's grip on his IV tightened, a small wave of nausea threatening his weak body as he tried to steady himself. "How could you know something like that?"

The words that had come out of the kid's mouth were enough for him to pray for the doors to open;

"Because she's standing behind you and telling me what to say."

As if by magic, the elevator doors opened and allowed the blond to shuffle out of the small space at the fasted speed he could. In silence, Toshinori dragged his IV along with him while keeping his gaze fixed on the boy.

As the doors began to close, he finally chose to speak again suddenly finding his voice, though it was barely coherent;

"What's your name, kid?"

"Izuku," the greenette answered immediately, "Izuku Midoriya."

"Toshinori Yagi," the blond responded, just as the twin doors shut and cut off their sight of one another.

Toshinori set his cup down and covered his mouth, muffled exhales echoing down the empty corridor as he attempted to compose himself.

Did that really just happen?

.-.-.-.-.

"Mum!"

Previous issues with his unwelcome undead buddies immediately dropped the moment he saw her. The teen dropped everything and launched himself forward, sliding to a halt beside his eerily still mother. The heart monitor beeped slowly, duetting with Inko's raspy gasps for air from her oxygen mask.

"Izuku?" Inko croaked, her face ghostly pale as she shakily attempted to lift her head from the pillows supporting her. Izuku immediately grabbed her hand tightly, fearful of letting her go.

"What happened?" he stressed, trying to force down the hard lump in his throat. He couldn't cry in front of her. She needed him to be strong.

"A man," she whispered, gently giving his hand a squeeze, "red eyes. He knew about Mitsuki, said I deserved it."

"Deserved it?" Izuku repeated, dumbfounded. Deserved what? His mother had nothing to do with the Bakugou tragedy…

"He knocked me down a-and did this," she used her free hand to shakily imitate stabbing motions. Her eyes welled up and Izuku fought back his own tears at seeing his mother so broken. "Tried to start a fire in the lounge b-but couldn't, the neighbours heard the commotion and he ran away."

Inko heaved out roughly, each breath sounding painful as she shifted slightly, wincing every now and again while the monitor beeped beside her.

"I'm sorry, Izuku," she whispered, mother and son's eyes meeting before she began closing them slowly. "I'm so sorry."

"Mum?" Izuku released her hand and gave her a few gentle nudges. She moaned softly, streaks of tears lined down her cheeks as her chest slowly rose and fell.

She was alive. Injured but alive.

The teen pushed himself away and slowly made his way out of the ward, feeling like his head was filled with cotton wool. The second the doors to the ward shut behind him, he allowed himself to break down, sobbing quietly against one of the off-white walls of the long and empty hospital corridor.

Who could have done this?

His mother was the most gentle soul he had ever known, rarely raising her voice or getting angry. Why had somebody attacked her?

The mystery person was wrong; his mother didn't deserve what had happened to her.

Izuku thought back to what the police had explained to him, about the attacker. According to the report made, he had mentioned Mitsuki Bakugou. Which was not only confusing but odd too.

Then there was that weird guy with the unusual red eyes back in his neighbourhood, he was wearing a hoodie so his hair was completely concealed. His mother had mentioned red eyes hadn't she?

Izuku only knew one person with that rare eye colour and then there was another thought playing on his mind;

Who truly knew Mitsuki Bakugou besides the Midoriya Family?

Aside from…

"Kacchan?"

#my writing #epilogue for the lost #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha #izuku midoriya #all might #dfo #afo is hisashi midoriya #inko midoriya #dad for one

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gl211 · 3 years

Text

Glory

I feel like I need a disclaimer. I adore/adored McDreamy. There wasn’t a bigger MerDer fan than me. And I love the fact that they brought Patrick back for the dream sequences. BUT, we know they can’t live on the dream island forever. And I really like Hayes. Last season, I finally saw the spark of something that was missing with all of Meredith’s other pairings. Plus, the “I’m here. It’s okay. Don’t worry.” REALLY got me straight in the feelings. So with that, I give you this one-shot.

“Grey. Grey? Can you hear me?”

She felt what could be described as an elephant on her chest as she gasped, opening her eyes slowly.

Where am I?

She was lying on the ground, she knew that. She fully opened her eyes to see Cormac Hayes hovering over her. She couldn’t read his expression behind his mask, but his eyes were screaming.

Derek. Where did Derek go?

She heard Hayes shouting as more people were suddenly around her, an oxygen mask being placed on her face. She tried to sit up, as multiple hands kept her body in place. She felt Hayes’s hands on her face, keeping her head in place.

“It’s okay. Don’t try and move.”

She was dying.

That’s why Derek was there.

This was it.

She’d survived this much and all the impossible scenarios life had thrown at her. And yet, here she was. She was going to die in the hospital parking lot. From a virus that could’ve been prevented.

Her kids. All three of them flashed through her mind, chest feeling ten times heavier as the situation weighed on her.

They didn’t deserve to lose two parents. To be alone.

Her gasp turned into a guttural sob. She felt Cormac’s fingers gently, soothingly stroking her head. He continued to hold her in place, gently reassuring her. She felt herself push against whomever was holding her hands, her hand frantically wrapping around his wrist.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

She felt tears slip out of her eyes, a heavy breath laboring her breathing. She shut her eyes as she heard the wheels of the gurney screech closer.

“I know. It’s okay. Just stay with me.”

She felt movement as her body was shuffled from the concrete to the stretcher, she felt a backboard sliding under her and a neck brace being placed as the group around her was suddenly running into the hospital. She locked eyes with Hayes, who was shouting, as they ran, his hand moving to nudge Meredith, to keep her awake. Her felt heavy, her eyes involuntarily slipping closed, accepting her unconscious fate.

“I miss you.”

“I know.”

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

The next time she opened her eyes, Owen was standing over her in full PPE. Sounds around her were muffled. Oddly, it felt like the time she ruptured her eardrums. Like everything was moving slowly and quietly.

Suddenly her train of thought snapped back into place. She grabbed Owen’s wrist stalling his movement.

“Call Cristina... kids... just in case.”

Owen nodded, knowing what she meant but not before placed his gloved hand over hers and squeezing it.

“I’ll call her. But you’re going to be fine.”

Meredith nodded as she looked around the room, she saw Teddy, Owen, Tom, Jackson. She turned her gaze a bit, her neck brace not allowing her to go much further.

She saw Maggie, Richard and Bailey hovering by the window in full PPE. Further away stood Hayes, his eyes locked on her. Her gaze met his before her eyes fluttered close again.

“ Meredith you deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“What if I’m not supposed to be happy anymore?”

“Mer. You know that’s not true. Look at who you are. The person you’ve become. An award winning, talented surgeon. An amazing mother. You did all of that on your own.”

“Right. By myself.”

“All I’m saying is that maybe you shouldn’t be alone.”

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

Over the course of the next several days, time seemed to blend. They were trying everything on her. Infusions, drugs, anything that has been deemed usable they have tried.

While her breathing was bad, the fever and rigor that followed was worse.

She vaguely remembered Andrew and Maggie in the room on more than one occasion. Bailey had been here, they had talked about DNR’s and her kids.

Jo had sat with her, talking to her, reminding her how many people she had in her corner. Shockingly, she had even called Alex, who called within an hour of being told. She had spoken to him every day via text.

She hadn’t seen Amelia, she was with the kids, but she had FaceTimed with her. The kids hadn’t been told anything, per Meredith’s request. She didn’t want them told until it was absolutely necessary.

Cristina was grounded on the other side of the globe, but she had spoken with her three times.

Cormac Hayes was there. Every time she had opened her eyes, he was there.

He was either at the window outside her room or inside. Barely speaking but watching her intently, like she was going to vanish if he left.

With no concept of time, she still knew he hadn’t left the hospital in days.

She sleepily opened her eyes one day to see him looking at her stats on the monitor. She turned her head.

“Hi.”

His head turned at the sound of her voice. In his full PPE, she could see him without his mask. She saw how tired he looked.

“You should go home, sleep.”

He shook his head as her nasal cannula slipped a bit. He carefully approached the bed and gestured towards her as she nodded. He carefully adjusted it, slipping her mask right below it.

“Your kids. Go home.”

He shook his head staying at the edge of the bed as he adjusted the blanket around her.

“They’re staying with their aunt outside the city for now.”

She nodded as he sat in the chair next to her bed.

“Your levels are up a bit. And the fever is down. That’s a good thing.”

Meredith nodded, clearly not convinced. She smoothed the blanket out in her lap, pulling at the threads.

“I keep seeing Derek. And I know if I keep seeing him, that can’t be a good thing. And part of me wants to give up. Just be done. Stop fighting. Be with Derek.””

It wasn’t something he was used to, seeing Meredith Grey admitting defeat. It wasn’t her. She was tenacious, unapologetic, put 100% into everyone and everything in her life.

“But then I think about my kids. And how much I don’t want them to be alone. And how I don’t want to die. Not like this.”

Her voice broke at the words, tears now freely falling down her face. Within seconds, he could tell her thoughts had shifted drastically to the worst-case scenario. He reached his hand out, gently placing it over hers. Her eyes looked down, her posture crumbling further as everything final hit her.

“I really don’t want to die alone.”

The statement shot him to his core.

“Grey. Hey.”

He tried to urge her to look at him, his hand gently running over hers. The small gesture was doing nothing, the woman in front of him crumbling by the second.

Her monitors were starting to beep with her irregular breaths, her cries only fueling the piercing noise.

“Meredith.”

That seemed to grab her attention for a moment. He hadn’t ever called her by first name. His Irish brogue hitting all the syllables.

The beeping monitors intensified, they were probably moments away from a team of people appearing if she didn’t calm down.

He stood and walked around towards the other side of her bed. Careful to not disrupt any IV or oxygen lines, he carefully sat down in full PPE on the bed.

Meredith, though bordering on hysterical felt the motion and turned her head slightly. He turned on his side, best as he could to face her.

“No one is dying. And no one is alone.”

She cried harder at his remark, his arm snaking around her, his gloved hand intertwined with hers as she gripped it.

‘I’m not leaving you. I’m right here.”

He lost track of how long he laid there next to her, holding her. Eventually her cries settled, her monitors regulated and the grip on his hand loosened ever so slightly.

Several minutes later, he heard her breathing even out, an indication she had fallen asleep. He could’ve left when she fell asleep, probably should’ve given protocols and exposure. But he was a man of his word, no one was going to be alone.

“I love you Derek. I’m always going to love you.”

“I know I love you too. Which is why you have to go back.”

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

A rough 14 days in the hospital and Meredith was finally testing negative. She was officially on a road to recovery and was able to go home.

“Busting out of here?”

She turned to the door as Cormac entered. Standing next to her bed, she organized the limited belongings she had come in with. She placed the photo Maggie had brought of the kids in her bag, her hand lingering on it for a second.

“Are you driving my getaway car?” she joked.

He flashed her a grin, visible under the PPE. Though Meredith was negative, they were still in a COVID ward.

“Figure out your plans yet? Hotel or home?”

Meredith shrugged as she zipped the small tote bag shut, setting it beside her, pulling her sweater tighter around her pajamas,

“Not sure quite yet. I was living here before getting sick. Probably a hotel for a week, make sure I’m really okay. And then home to my kids. And then I’ll be back when I’m cleared for work.”

“Can’t keep you away from this place?”

“Well the hospital does kind of have my name in it.” she said with a grin.

He laughed, grateful that her spunk was back.

“I should thank you.”

“Me?” he questioned.

“You helped get me over the hump. I don’t think I would’ve made it through without you. So, thank you.”

He shook his head modestly stopping her, his hand going up to wave her off.

She can’t say that when Cormac Hayes arrived in Seattle that he was modest, caring or thoughtful. Quite the opposite, actually.

But beneath the rough exterior of armor he tried to keep up, was a thoughtful, selfless person. Who would do just about anything for anyone. Including her.

“No need to thank me Grey. Anyone would’ve.” he replied.

“Yeah. But you’re not just anyone.”

Her eyes twinkled as he smiled back. He felt this indescribable warmth that had gradually crept into him the more time he spent with Meredith. A feeling he didn’t want to go away.

The buzz of his phone brought him back to reality. He could hear and feel it going off in his scrubs pocket. He was being paged back to peds. Admittedly while no one wanted to see a sick child, it was a well needed break from COVID.

“Never ends, Grey.” he said as he nodded towards her, walking towards the door. “I’ll come back later to see you off.”

“Meredith.” she replied as he got to the door.

“Come again?” he questioned.

“You went back to Grey, but it’s Meredith. You’re going to have call me Meredith. Especially if we’re going to eventually get that drink. Masked and outside of course.”

Her eyes sparkled as he grinned back, nodding in response.

“Very well then. I’ll see you later, Meredith.”

She waved as he left, watching as he walked through the area to dispose of PPE.

It was odd to have these spark like feelings for someone other than Derek. But, somewhere in the middle of her hallucinations and her reality, she realized that moving on with someone wouldn’t take away missing Derek. Derek would always be a part of her, she would always love him.

Moving on meant honoring herself, letting her heart be open to someone wanting to care for it.

Moving on meant showing up for herself.

Her phone chimed as Cristina’s phone call came in. She quickly answered it, pressing it up to hear ear.

“Hi.”

She looked up, meeting Cormac’s gaze, as he waved, signaling he was leaving for now, but would be back.

“How’s everything over there? Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not alone.”

#Meredith Grey #cormac hayes #merhayes #merhayes fanfic

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vlogsquadssquad · 4 years

Text

secure

summary: Charlie puth invites David to a get together where David meets y/n and they hit it off.

a/n: a teensy weensy bit angst but im 100% making a part 2 of this with a happy ending so no worries!!!!!!!!!

warnings: language

mood board:

-- 3RD PERSON DD & CP

“hey what are your plans for Saturday?” Charlie asked David as they finished up a bit for the vlog.

“umm, nothing really. im kind of in a fog right now. why?” David took a bite of his apple.

“well im throwing a small little kickback at my house. a few of my music friends are coming and it might get you some good connections, if you'd like.”

“dude, that's fucking sick! name drop! is Selena Gomez gonna be there?” David asked excitedly.

“no, no, Selena doesn't really do too many social events anymore. she's going through a lot...” David raised his eyebrow as Charlie looked to the ground. “but you know who will be there? y/f/n!”

“shut the fuck up dude are you serious?” Davids heart dropped at the thought of y/n at the party. he's been crushing on her for a bit, and has been dying to meet her.

“yeah, I mean she texted me she would, why are you all giddy?” Charlie punched David on the shoulder playfully, but secretly didn't want David to say he had a crush on her because truth was, so did Charlie. what's not to like? she's humble, kind, funny, easy-going, and down for anything.

“oh, uhh... no reason, just she's a pretty popular singer right now. good clickbait.” David said with nervousness in his voice. he didn't want to admit that he had a crush when he hasn't even met her.

“alright, well ill see you at the kickback then. bring some friends!” Charlie tried not to sound worried or suspicious. he’d have to keep an eye on the two.

-- YOUR POV

I really hate going to parties. but Charlie promised it would be chill and just a way to destress. ive been in a fog with my album im writing. I have great songs but I need two more and im stuck on what to write about. maybe the party will be a good thing.

-texts w - Charles 🤪 -

< should I wear something casual or ?? are we dressing nicer lol

you look great in everything! >

maybe party casual if that's a thing? >

< thought it was a kickback you ass! lol but thanks for the heads up. see you there, Charles! 😉

-end texts-

he hated when i called him Charles but i love messing with him. after careful examining of the clothes i had, i decided to go as I was. it was an easy going outfit but I still looked put together. I had no one to impress anyways.

-- 1st PERSON DD

“dude, im so nervous.” i whispered to Ilya, who knew of my crush.

“its fine man, don't be a pussy.” i took a drink of my water and grabbed my camera to film with Benny Blanco a little he always had something funny or interesting to say.

“Charles!” I heard from the living room. i didn't think anything of it and kept filming with Benny and Jeff. a little while goes by and then Benny looks over my shoulder.

“hey, y/n/n! so good to see you!” i froze. y/n went and gave benny an inviting hug and then turned to me. her eyes were easy to melt into.

“hi, good to see you, im y/n” she went in for a hug. she smelled beautiful.

“oh, hi. im David. big fan.”

“and im Jeff, wow you look so great, can I get you a drink?”

i rolled my eyes at Jeff trying to make a move. of course he's into the same girl I am.

“oh, im ok, I actually don't really like to drink.” she's so kind and gentle as she speaks.

“so how is the album coming?” benny asks her.

“its... not.” she laughs lightly but I can tell she's stressed. is it too early to tell her I already know her inside and out? am I crazy for watching all her interviews, tiktoks, and instagram stories?

“im in a fog,” she looks to the ground. how are we already so compatible? “I want two more songs but im having trouble finding a conclusion to the story im telling. maybe there isn't one, I don't know.”

“what's the story you're trying to tell?” I ask feeling very brave and comfortable already.

“basically my current dating life.” she slightly blushes. “its so hard dating and every time I start to like a guy or I know of him and I already have a crush on him, it doesn't end well. and I have these little romances I write about but they all end in either piggy behavior or ghosting.” we laughed along with her. her smile was radiating.

“maybe I can help, do you wanna go to Charlie’s studio?” Benny asks her.

“you're an angel! yes! ill repay you in food.” she laughs. as they walk out, Im watching her. she moves so flawlessly. “hey, you can come too. might get something good for the vlog.” she smiles to me. my heart is beating out of my chest. she watches my videos or at least knows of me. “cool, thank you.” I say trying to remain calm. she also pulls Charlie in and he drapes his arm around her shoulder. they're just friends.

as we get seated in the room, Benny starts asking her questions. “so, we know what message you're giving but how are you delivering it for the album? what's the feeling? want to play us a song that captures the vibe?”

“well I only have the instrumentals for the songs but I can play one live?”

“great, lets do it.” Charlie smiled to her as he handed her a mic.

“don't post this anywhere, David” she warned.

she brought warmth to my cheeks. “nope, ill only use it as blackmail.”

her laugh was such a gift. I could tell jokes all day just to hear her laugh again.

she played a beautiful song that was slow and powerful and all about heartbreak. it hurt to hear her go through that. then benny asked for another song. this one was more pop. like id hear it on the radio, but still deep.

the rest of the night was them composing songs and some stupid jokes here and there. safe to say she's the most down to earth and funny person in the room. the fans will go crazy that im here with her. im going crazy that im here with her.

-- YOUR POV

I spent the whole night in the studio with some amazing people. I found myself taking it all in and being so thankful for my life. ive known of David and watched his vlogs pretty frequently too, but being with him was a whole different experience. he gave great advice and genuinely helped me through some of my block. he gave a listeners point of view and had fresh ears. it was nice. he even offered to walk me to my car.

“I figured you'd have like a limo waiting for you outside or something.” he joked as we walked toward the street.

“nope, that's just youtubers.” I joked back.

he laughed, “ouch.”

“thank you for your input tonight.” he chuckled. “no, I really mean it. I think I know exactly how I want to end the album.” I look into his eyes as my back is pushed against my car.

“where's your mind at?” he looks back to me.

“loving myself. I know it sounds cliche, but isn't the greatest romance of all, the love you have for yourself? tonight was the most fun ive had, and it was just hanging out with friends talking about endless things.”

he nods as he takes my words in. “you're really secure with yourself. I like that. its going to be a great album.”

he leans in and for a moment I think he's going to kiss me which I don't need right now. then I see his hands go low to the handle of my car door and he opens it for me.

“oh, I can't take a hint, huh?” I joke with him.

“no, not at all. I just know you're excited to go home and write your new hit.” he says almost seriously.

“thank you” I whisper. “and also, can I get your number? id love to do something fun for the vlogs.”

-- DAVIDS POV, NEXT DAY

“il, it couldn't have gone better! she asked for my number, bro!”

“that's fucking sick. imagine you dating one of americas sweetheart, music icons.” Ilya pokes at David.

“its not a fucking joke, I really think there was something there but id really like to get to know her better.”

“who are we talking about?” Charlie asks as he enters the room. David had texted him to meet up for a bit they were doing.

“uh, no one.” im quick to reply knowing they're` great friends and I don't want any drama.

“oh ok... so what'd you think of y/n?” he asks me.

“oh she's great, yeah, I was editing some last night and I think I'll keep some parts in.”

“yeah, she's so easy to be around. I think im gonna ask her out, she's kind of the girl of my dreams, and im like 99% sure she's in love with me too.” he says almost marking his territory.

I look to Ilya and he just half smiles. “oh, that's great man. yeah you should ask her out if you're in love with her. she's a great catch.” my chest falls as I say it aloud. I really thought she liked me.

part 2

#davids vlogs #david dobrik #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x reader #David dobrik fanfic #David dobrik imagines #vlog squad #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad fan fiction #Charlie puth #Charlie puth fanfic #Charlie puth imagine #Charlie puth fan fiction

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years

Text

Show Me How You Like It

Kinktober Day 12 ~ kink: pegging

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, smut

word count: 3,850

a/n: this is for @lady-bakuhoe .... oh god, i did so much research for this because ive never tried pegging, but idk....might need to convince someone oneday. also, new season?????? im literally shaking because the first episode was so pure,,,,,but this season,,,,,ohmy

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Do you want to try it?”

Being married was something you thought of as unimaginable. Marriage and you didn’t ever seem to go hand in hand. Not that you didn’t want to get married at some point in your life. You never expected anyone to want you for the rest of your life.

You met Kirishima Eijirou in middle school. As you were best friends with Ashido Mina. You often noticed the shy dark-haired boy always watching on your friend group. You remember going to the U.A. entrance exam and sitting between Mina and Kirishima. The written exam you listened to Mina curse under her breath, and Kirishima shakes as he filled out his sheet.

You remember looking at the field he was then placed in for the practical exam. Sighing when you saw the three of you were then scattered everywhere. You had wished him luck! His cheeks turning pink as he stammered back good luck as you and Mina took off to get dressed. You didn’t know much about him besides that he was shy and very sweet, but you hoped he did well! The next month, the three of you called to the principal's office. You were absolutely astonished to see that Kirishima had gotten in as well! The three of you would be going on to U.A. together!

After ending middle school, you didn’t see him again until orientation. Except, he was different. A good different. His hair stylized, large spikes, and bright red. It was attention-grabbing, demanding even, but his face was still as sweet as ever. Kind and loving.

The first year flew by. Near-death experiences with him formed a bond with him that you never knew would manifest. The three of you--Mina, Kirishima, and you--were close. Buddies, but sometimes, if you were being honest, your eyes would stay on him for a bit too long.

Your heart hammered when he went out for his internship, scared he’d come back scared. Your eyes locking on his flexing muscles, and Mina’s sharp laughter pulling you back to reality. The way he was reckless and shield the class from attacks. Because he was a shield, and he could take it. The way he would catch you in his arms. Those black sleeves were so soft, making you squeak as you were now distracted from your own battle. His toothy grin sucking you in as he made a cute comment about getting there on time. His warm large hands on your body as he placed you down, encouraging you to finish the villain.

There was the night you found yourself knocking on his door. Tears brimming your eyes because you needed to be in someone's arms and Mina was asleep. He took you in without you even asking. Taking you to his bed as he wrapped you in his blanket. His voice apologizing about the state of his room. Apologizing because his blanket wasn’t that soft, and you deserved a softer one. He seemed to panic around his room, setting up a kettle for tea, all while you stared at his blushing face. His cheeks bright enough to match his hair as you stood up from the bed and wrap your arms around him. Your words are weak as you ask him to hold you because that was all you needed. You fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest as he smiled at you. Lips pressing to your forehead.

It wasn’t until your second year did you do something about your feelings. Your eyes on Kirishima as he was joking around with Kaminari over Bakugou’s fuming head. You felt yourself walking over, no plan in mind. The girls staring at you as you went, muffled screams because they could tell what was coming.

You didn’t ask, only grabbing Kirishima’s wrist and pulling him so that he could look at you. His face went from grinning, to shock, to a blush erupting to cover his entire face as he realized it was you. His hand slamming against the back of his neck as he apologized for something. Not that it was actually needed. His lips were so pretty, and you were sick of him not being yours. Your hands fisted into the shirt of his collar and brought his lips to yours. Your first kiss with Kirishima a slamming force. You clenched your eyes as your lips pressed against his, and you felt him stiffen against you.

His quirk going off and you pull away, lips stinging because of his mishap.

The screams of the girls were loud, Kaminari’s seemed louder, and Bakugou was laughing loudly. Kirishima returns to normal his face turning redder than his hair as he apologizes. Kirishima admits he likes you so much, and you caught him completely off guard.

So with a breathy laugh, you pull him in close once again and seal your lips over his.

The kiss makes you dizzy as he holds you tightly. His finger gripping your waist as if you would crumble between his fingers.

So the two of you began dating. Four years of a very serious and committed relationship had your heart soaring. The two of you were each other first’s for many things. There was never heartbreak between the two of you. Fights were always avoided, the two of you always talking before things escalated. So it was no surprise on the night before your fifth anniversary, the two of you home in your sweats, did he propose.

You cried, screaming at him for proposing when you looked like this. Kirishima cried as he stayed on his knee, a sparkling ring in his fingers.

“That’s not an answer,” Kirishima says, as you cover your face. Sobs refusing to stop as you shake your head overwhelmed. “A-Are you not ready?”

“EI!” You bawl as you stumble to your feet, and throw yourself into his strong arms. “YOU’RE SO DUMB! Yes, I’ll marry you! Every day for the rest of my life if I could!”

The two of you spent the rest of that night in each other's arms. Tears intermingling on your cheeks as you expressed your love for one another.

Your wedding was unimaginable, intimate, and wondrous.

So here the two of you were. Six months into marriage on your day off he asked to try something new. Your guy’s sex life definitely was not vanilla. Both of you sported your favorite kinks and positions, and you incorporated them into bed. Today he asked something that you never thought you’d hear. So without judging you uttered those words.

“I’d like to try pegging, one day. I just--I don’t know--I feel like I need to try it out!” Kirishima says, scratching his cheek as you laugh.

“Well, I think we should definitely try it out! I hear it’ll be super enjoyable for you.” You agree as you stand up. “Do you want to order it online or go to a sex shop?”

Kirishima sighs as you take a seat on his lap, and his hands rest on your hips. It’s muscle memory at this point as you kiss his cheek. “If the store is open, let’s go?”

“It’s only three in the afternoon, Ei. It’s open.” You laugh as you kiss his flaming cheeks. Kirishima sighs as he stands up from the chair, his arms wrapping around your legs as he carries you.

“No need to be mean!” He pouts, and you laugh as you pepper kisses against his lips as he walks towards your home’s entrance. “I just hope we don’t run into fans again…”

“Hey!” You laugh as he slips on your shoes all while holding you still. “It’s their damn fault for thinking we don’t have kinky sex… or sex at all.”

“You didn’t let me smash for a whole year.” Kirishima laughs as he shifts you in his arms so that he’s holding you piggyback style. You laugh as he puts on his own shoes. Your limbs tightening around his body for support as he’s leaning down.

“It’s because you kept telling me to smash, and the first time it happened you pulled out Super Smash Bros.”

“You’re telling me you denied me for a whole year because of that?!”

“EIJIROU, YOU LITERALLY MADE ME PANIC SO HARD! The girls and I went out to buy me lingerie and everything!!”

“You’re telling me this now? Sorry, y/n, sounds fake.” Kirishima laughs as he stands up, and begins your journey out.

Eventually, you slide off his back, and he takes your hand into his own. The two of you talking as you walk down the streets of your city as you enter the sex shop. You went were you remembered where the strap on dildos and harnesses were. Kirishima, however, seems frozen as you pick out a sturdy harness. It was black and rather daunting as you handed it to Kirishima.

“You get to pick the dildo.” You say, looking at the collection they had.

“T...This is a lot more than what I was expecting.” Kirishima gulps as his hands rake through his flat hair. “Is there a one size fits all?”

You snort at you shake your head, “No, baby. Just like there are no two dicks alike, you have to choose. We can always start with the thinnest one?”

“Yeah. That sounds right.”

You grab a thinner dildo and choose the bright red one. “For my Red Daddy Riot?” You ask, a burst of bubbling laughter in your throat as Kirishima tosses his head back.

“That was one time!”

“It still happened, and you liked it!”

The two of you laughed together as you bought the two things. Even taking pictures with the person at the register because he was in love with you two. Besides that, the two of you left back home.

Steps quick to try it out. Breathing picking up as you reached the house.

Kirishima’s lips were over yours as soon as the front door closed behind him. His strong arm keeping you on his hips as his other one held the black bag.

“Wow, you’re impatient.” You moan against his lips, as you kick your shoes off.

“It’s the nerves.” Kirishima sighs as he walks towards the bedroom, your lips gliding against his.

Your fingers tug at his hair without care, his heavy pants making you grin. You knew his body as well as you knew his own, and hair-pulling always lit a fire under him. Your back pressed into the mattress, and your breathing increases as he shifts. His shirt pulling off his head. You pull away and watch as his scarred chest heaves.

You sit up, your lips pressing light kisses against every scar. Every bruise. Every impurity. Your lips were hot against his skin, and Kirishima’s wordless praises stirred you on. Your hands grabbed his shorts. Without him even realizing it, you’ve removed his shorts, and have him on the bed in two-fluid movements.

“Is the lube, fuck, is the lube in the box?” Kirishima asks as your lips suck the crook of his neck.

You nod your head as you remove your own shirt, and his hands squeeze your breasts. You hiss at the sensation, your hips involuntarily moving as well. Kirishima’s gasping breathes stir you on as you feel his arousal pressing into your ass. “Are you ready?” You ask, your nails running up and down his abs. You know he likes the teasing of the sensation, and he nods his head as you pull away.

Kirishima watches you from the bed as you strip off your shorts. You’re wearing a nice set already, a deep maroon bra and matching thong piece. It wasn’t lingerie. But the color of red against your skin made Kirishima moan as you pull out the lube from your box of other goods. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his throat as you open the harness.

Your eyes locked on his own, a smile on your face as you slip your legs through the ties. Fastening them all tight around your thighs as you spin around for Kirishima when it’s done. It’s tight enough that you feel comfortable, but not loose enough for it to fall off ever. Kirishima groans, his body falling onto the bed as you place the dildo into the harness. Why did you look ravishing like that?

Kirishima feels you climbing onto the bed, your hair tickling his cheeks as you lean down. “On your knees, Red Daddy Riot.” You whisper into his ear, your teeth nibbling his earlobe.

“You’re the worst.” Kirishima groans as he does as commanded, slipping his underwear off. Your teeth bite your lower lip as you stare at his ass. This was a new angle, and it was one you very much enjoyed. Hell, if you looked this hot, it was no wonder why Kirishima loved doggy style. You could see the sharp lines of his body, the muscles rippling in his nervousness. His ass looking firm and delicious as you shuffle closer. A sigh leaving your lips as you rejoice in him being the perfect height for you to peg him.

“I’m going to start with my fingers first.” You inform Kirishima who nods his head.

“Be gentle at first?”

“Like a flower.” You promise as you grab the lube, rubbing a very healthy amount on your index finger and middle finger. “Ready?”

His nod is weak but sure of his request.

So with as much precaution as you can, your index finger slides past his tight hole. You ease it in as Kirishima lets out a string of curses, his body trembling as he almost falls onto his forearms. Your tongue pokes out, unsure if it was okay to savor the way he was feeling or to be actually concerned.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You ask as your finger curls.

“Y-Yes, oh my god, princess…” Kirishima pants as he thrusts his hips out towards you.

Your finger makes it all the way in, and Kirishima cries out your name as you begin to move it back out. Your finger now slowly beginning to thrust into him. Your hips shifting in the excitement in the way he shakes. His chest falling to the mattress as you continue thrusting into him. Kirishima’s moans stirring you on as you add another finger.

H makes audible gawking noise. You chuckle as your free hands trail up and down his muscular thigh. Your hand moves up his inner thigh and then grasps his hard cock. Kirishima’s pleasure and pained moans filling the room as you stroke his length. “You’re taking my fingers so good, baby.” You groan against his rippling back muscles. “I hope this feels as good as you look.”

Kirishima spasms as your nails gently tease the walls of his hole. His nearly shrieking gasps turn you on further. Your hand that is moving down his length his fisting him as you go. A sadistic smile on your face as his cries continue. His body trembling. Your fingers moving in a wave-like function as he gasps prettily.

Your cunt is now throbbing at the sight of your husband like this. The dom in you bleeding out as you remove your fingers from his hole. Your other hand releases his twitching cock as you pull back. Kirishima’s pleading gasps making you laugh as you slap his ass.

“Don’t worry,” You say grabbing the lube and placing a large amount onto the dildo. “I’m not done with you quite yet.”

Kirishima whimpers softly, the noise music to your ears as your lips press against his ass.

“You’re doing so well.” You whisper as you press the head of the red dildo onto his hole, not yet inserting it. Your grin widening as Kirishima rocks his hips, wanting you to thrust in already. “I’m going to put it in now, and I don’t want to hear a single moan, groan, cry, or word.” You warn.

Kirishima’s husky voice lets out a whine, and you shiver at the feeling as you move your hips forward. The head of the dildo sinking into his awaiting hole.

“You didn’t make a sound, I’m impressed. Are you okay, my love?” One of your hands moving up to rub soothing circles on his back as you pressed deeper inside him. Kirishima replied with a weak head nod. Rutting his hips back into you as you entered completely inside him. You wait a moment as his heavy pants let you know he’s still adjusting. Your thighs twitch with your anticipation, and you want nothing more than to thrust into him. The pool of heat within you intensifies as Kirishima drops to his chest.

“I-I’m ready.” He asserts, and you smirk, your hand coming down heavily onto his ass.

“Are you ready to feel how good I am with my cock?” You tease, and Kirishima laughs, his head nodding.

“Show me how you like it.” Kirishima staggers as your hips roll into his ass.

A shriek of pleasure leaves his lips as you begin pushing your hips against his ass. Your pace a lot faster than it probably should have been. You began to buck your hips against him, admiring in the way Kirishima moans loudly. His hips moving to meet yours. You grinned as you landed another hard smack on his ass, expecting a raw noise in response. Your face lits up when your husband sinfully moans at the action, his jaw-dropping as he pants. Your fingers continue running across his soft skin as you watched it redden under your touch. Your handprint was evident in its shape.

“Please, baby, more!” Kirishima gasps as you shift your hips slightly. His back arching as he clutches the fabric between his fingers. You laugh, your head leaning to press a kiss against his spine.

“Kami, you look so damn pretty when you’re crying for me.” You moan, uncaring about your sloppy thrusts for the moment. The way Kirishima is so responsive to your actions is stirring you on. You’re positive that you’ll be coming as soon as he touches you later. You grip his hips, angling your body so that you’re thrusting into him at a better angle. Trying to desperately find that angle that will make his eyes roll to the back of his head. To find the angle that will make him scream and drool. The loud and raw ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips, lets you know you found his prostate. You continue in at that angle, the same power and depth as the rawness of his voice send chills down your spine.

Your body feels like it’s on fire as you feel so much power. Your husband’s continuous whimpering stirring you on. Your right-hand leaves his waist, moving to grasp his still rock hard cock in your grasp. “Oh, poor baby,” You coo. “Does your cock need to come?” You pant, the action of your thrusting hips making you sweat.

“Yes, fuck, baby yes!” Kirishima shouts, his face burying into the mattress as you massage his length up and down. Your hips are relentless against his ass as you continue fucking him. Your laughs nearly inaudible at the sight of him still fucking himself against you.

“What if I don’t want you to come yet.” You pout, your fingers leaving his length, your hips stilling.

“Please let me come, baby, please!” Kirishima pants his hips unapologetic as he continues pushing against the strap-on. You giggle, taking his cock back in your hand. Your arousal slicking against your thighs as you continue.

You’re intent on getting him to come within seconds, and it shows. Your hips are thrusting harder and faster than you’ve gone yet. Your hand fisting along his length, his leaking precum covering your hand. Kirishima’s spluttering shouts fueling your inner lust. His body convulses under your manipulation.

Sinfully loud mewls and moans leave his lips, and you feel his cock spasm. Your hips finding it difficult to go as fast as you had been going as his hole tightens around the dildo.

“Y/N, FUCK!”

Your hand covered instantly in his hot sticky seed. Your lips in a wide grin as your hand continues stroking his length. His fluids continuing to come out in his heavy load. Your thrusting stops, and with a sigh, you pull away. Falling down on your ass as Kirishima collapses. His eyes locked on you as you lick his come off your hands.

“You’re super hot like that.” You inform Kirishima as you shift towards his heaving body to press a kiss to his lips. “I didn’t think you would be so into it.”

You slide off the bed, taking off the harness and letting it fall to the ground as you groan. You remove your panties and show Kirishima just how fucking wet they were. “Just in case you weren’t sure how turned on I was.”

You take off your bra as you crawl back onto the bed, Kirishima turning onto his back as you straddle his torso.

“You still need to come, huh?” Kirishima states. A low hiss escaping his mouth at feeling your throbbing wet cunt against his hips.

“Yeah, I do.” You sigh your fingers teasing your breasts as your husband leans up. His lips pressing against the underside of your breasts. Your head drops back as you feel content. “Are you gonna help me out, or am I going to be forced to fuck you by myself?”

You shriek as you’re on your back, looking up at Kirishima who is trailing his heavy and hot hands down your figure. You moan at the feeling of his teeth biting against your neck. His sharp teeth sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll know how I felt that entire time,” Kirishima promises, his finger entering your aching core.

“Give it to me, Red Daddy Riot.”

“...I’ll leave.”

“No! You know that I’m only tea--OHMYGOD!”

Kirishima has his once again hard cock slamming into your throbbing pussy. His voice snarling at the sensation as his hands bring your legs over his shoulders. “Now shut up, and let daddy show you how to fuck properly.”

You can’t even tease him as he begins jackhammering into you. Your head slamming into the mattress as a shriek rips through your throat.

#kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima imagine #kirishima scenario #kirishima smut #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha kirishima #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha kirishima #burnedbyshoto does kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober

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gothamcityneedsme · 3 years

Photo

I saw this bouncing around my dash and decided to fill it out myself for fun :) I decided to not double-list any games, and I tried to mix up the companies I used too so that the list would be more unique.

Long post, so I’m doing a readmore for my longwinded part lol.

(read more)

Favorite Game: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords - I could talk about this game forever. How it tears apart the Star Wars universe from within, how it creates a compelling story while challenging the usual themes, etc. I could talk for ages about the characters and how their motivations slot in place, and how this game lends itself to interpretation and analysis alongside roleplay. It’s just a wonderful game, one I deeply love and will always love. It’s a game that isn’t afraid to have you talk to other characters for twenty or thirty minutes at a time and honestly I’m always riveted at every line. This game deserves the cult fanbase it has, but I think there’s a lot the fanbase misses in appreciating this game. (Note...gameplay is a little janky and a community made mod restores a lot content that was cut before shipping-the game wasn’t properly finished).

Best Story: Fallout New Vegas - It’s the setting that makes the story here, and all the moving pieces and factions alongside the main conflict really make this game stand out. There’s so many little pieces to find along the way in the world and the way the main quest splits based on who you want in power feels important--and you are choosing a future for this whole region.

Favorite Art Style: The Witness - This game is peacefully wonderful with its visuals. There are wonderful nature scenes and nests of wires and panels spreading in various parts of the island that are fascinating to look at. The environment is half of the gameplay in most areas, so it’s important to look around even though exploration is not really the gameplay. You find puzzles in the world, even in nature, and it’s fascinating. The colors are bright and beautiful. There is even a map in the middle of the island inside of a lake that helps you track your progress if you notice it (it isn’t like a normal ‘map’).

Favorite Soundtrack: Shin Megami Tensei IV - I love video game soundtracks, but SMTIV is something special. The music booms in ways that make you really understand the atmosphere of the world, and there’s a great mix of different kinds of tracks for different places. I love the tracks for the other worlds you enter, and the themes of the different routes are done so well. Some of the music draws from past SMT games, but the remixes done for this game really are stunning to me, and there’s so many fantastic original tracks.

Hardest Game: I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream - I love this game but I literally never touch it without a walkthrough, which is why it gets to be the hardest game on the list, despite being a point and click adventure game lol. Also just emotionally this game is challenging too, but I definitely mean this more in terms of getting a ‘perfect run’.

Funniest Game: The Stanley Parable - Trying to make this list has taught me that I don’t really play many ‘funny games’. I don’t know if a game where multiple endings demand that you kill yourself should count as a ‘funniest game’, but it is also a game where the narrator tells you to stare at a fern and memorize its features, so....it counts.

Game I Like that is Hated: RWBY Grimm Eclipse - I’ve been playing this game since it was in early access and have loved it the whole time. I find the gameplay soothing and fun, and I like playing the different characters. It’s a game I play to chill out and just enjoy some fun battle mechanics. It’s a fun game and I’ve spent over 100 hours in it, so I hope I like it, lol.

Game I Hate that is Liked: Nier Automata - Neither this game’s gameplay or story impress me, and the fact that you have to replay basically the same stuff from a more boring-to-play-character’s pov in order to SEE all of the plot is a huge damper on the experience. The story, to me, someone who engages with a lot of robot-focused fiction, is far from impressive or new, and it hardly engages with genre specifics at all, let alone in a new or interesting way. I view this game as ‘a story with robots in it’ rather than ‘a story about robots’, which, to me, is a detriment.

Underrated: Nevermind - This game is amazing and very unheard of--and when it is heard of, it has been marketed incorrectly. Nevermind seems like a horror game, and does market itself as one a bit, but it’s much more than that. It’s more about trauma, recovery, therapy, etc. This is a game that is so mindful about the topics it engages in that I am impressed by it every time. It’s heavy with symbolism and character, despite lacking conversations or other similar game mechanics. This is a lovely game that I really wish more people knew about-`p5-all of the patients are so interesting, and the focus on recovery and mental health is impressive.

Overrated: Fire Emblem - I sort of mean this as the series as a whole really. I have enjoyed the entries I have played somewhat, but I overall consider the series much less impressive than I was led to believe by others. The gameplay especially is not impressive to me in any regard, even though I sometimes do find myself enjoying it. The stories are alright, but many of them are weighed down by the gameplay and as a writer and person who likes to analyze writing, it’s very hard to do so when it isn’t able to fully exist under the chains the gameplay forces on it. There are ways to mix gameplay and story well, Fire Emblem has not really done that in any of the entries I’ve played. That being said, I don’t regret playing them, and I will occasionally replay, but I consider them mediocre games at best.

Best Voice Acting: Devil Survivor 2 - I love the voice acting in this game. I feel like all the characters are really suited to their voices, and it’s really easy for me to visualize their voices. They really bring the game to life and make both the dramatic and the funny scenes more enjoyable.

Worst Voice Acting: Jedi Knight Jedi Academy - I love this game, I really do, but some of the voice acting is janky. Some of it is okay too--I think Kyle Katarn’s voice actor does fine, and some of the others I like NOW but hated when I was a kid, but the male protagonist voice in this game is just awful. Which is bad when Jennifer Hale is the female voice actress lol. His performance is passable though unless you’re playing darksided--the darksided ending to the game lacks all punch when you’re playing the male protagonist.

Favorite Male: Battler Ushiromiya from Umineko no Naku Koro Ni - He’s the protagonist for most of the visual novels and I adore him utterly, especially once you move past episode 2. He’s a wonderful character who I care about deeply. I love his drive and how he fights--he’s someone who is easy to cheer for. He matures well throughout the series and his character development is just wonderful.

Favorite Female: Naoto Shirogane from Persona 4 - I really like how Naoto fits so well in the game, especially for being a final recruit--oftentimes the final recruit of Persona games (post 3) have a bit of a more difficult time feeling right with the group. Naoto works really well though, and I love her struggles and story as well. I think the difficulties she has concerning living as a woman in her field hit very deep to a problem that has existed for a very long time.

Favorite Protagonist: Connor of Daventry from King’s Quest 8 Mask of Eternity - I’m like, one of four fans of this character in the world, lol. KQ8 is not a very well liked game and it does have a lot of issues, both with age and with how much of a departure it is from the series prior to it. It’s strange to take a puzzle adventure game and make it a hybrid with what basically is a shooter, and it doesn’t really work. Add to that the fact that you spend most of your time in the game without anyone around to talk to and it leads to this really polarizing and weird experience. For me, Conner goes through what I would consider to be the ‘Ultimate Nightmare Scenario”. Everyone in the world is turned to stone except him (and he survived out of mere chance) and so now it’s up to him, practically alone, to save the entire world. There is no game lonelier than this. I adore him for his bravery in the face of it, and how he just picks up to do what must be done because someone should do it, and if no one else can, then he will. I also really love how he apologizes to people who are encased in stone while he takes money from their houses to help him on his journey. I really do think he went back after the game was over and gave everyone heaps of gold to pay them back with interest lol.

Favorite Village: Oakvale from Fable - The first Fable is the only one I really like, and it was one of the games I played when I was little, so the hometown in the game always meant a lot to me. I like how you grow up there and how your tragic backstory is there--and then how you get to return to the town years later after you’ve come into your own, and you can see it completely rebuilt. I like to spend a lot of my time in this town, just wandering around it and playing the minigames. Even though I have a house in every town, Oakvale is where my hero calls home.

Most Hated Character: Merril from Dragon Age 2 - I don’t really want to lay into how I feel about Merril, but what I will say is that it was suggested to me that I totally ignore her when playing, and I did so. I only met her for her quest, dropped her off in town, and literally never spoke to her or interacted for the rest of the game. I had a much better experience for it, honestly. She appeared after I made my choice in the end of the game, which felt weird since I hadn’t spoken to her in several ingame years, but other than that, the game was totally fine without her. I sort of just wish you could kill characters in DA2 the way you can in DAO, then I’d just do that, tbh. It doesn’t suit very many (or any) of the characters I rp in DA2 to keep her around or support her in any way.

First Game I Played: Mixed up Mother Goose Deluxe - I’m not actually sure if this is the FIRST game I’ve ever played or not, but it’s one of the first I played alone as a kid. I really loved it--this is probably what created my love for point and click adventures, and the game was very silly and fun.

Favorite Company: Bioware - I’ve always been a sucker for Bioware games, ever since Knights of the Old Republic 1 was my favorite childhood game. I love how they do stories and party members, and while I’m not a fan of all of their games, I really love what they’ve made and their style of storytelling and character driven plot. Even though sometimes their stories get cliche, I think the suit video games well and most of my early gaming was within their games.

Hated Company: EA - Bioware truly only started to go to shit after the EA acquisition, so I fucking hate EA. I know Bioware had issues before EA too, but I definitely don’t think EA has helped the situation whatsoever.

Depressing Game: The Beginner’s Guide - I relate to this game as a creator and a writer, and it affects me deeply because of the story it tells and the questions it raises. It makes me reflect on how I think of myself as a creator, and it reminds me of friendships I used to have.

Creepy Game: The Path - God, I love this game. It’s just aimlessly wandering around and finding symbolic scenery and watching your current character comment on it. Then, you go off to find your girl’s wolf, and each one is different and unique to her, and you watch it ‘kill’ her--and facing her wolf is the only way each girl can truly mature. Whenever you get to grandmother’s house, the camera switches to first person, and your eyes keep closing, so you can only see while clicking to move. It forces you to keep moving so that you can see, but since you are moving, you only get to see things somewhat vaguely. It’s got a great atmosphere, and I love the symbolic storytelling.

Happy Game: Eastshade - This game is so sweet. There’s some drama around to with many of the quests, but I like this as an rpg without combat, and I think this would be a really good kids game. There’s a lot to see and explore, and the game was made to be really pretty so that you want to paint several aspects of it. It’s really lovely to just wander around in this game and bike around the area, painting anything that suits your fancy. As long as you don’t finish the main quest, you’re free to wander, and materials do respawn, so you essentially can infinitely paint once you get far enough.

Favorite Ending: Virtue’s Last Reward - I love the questions this game asks and where the ending goes. It thematically ties together--the whole reason the game itself exists is to get the attention of a ‘higher being’--the player, essentially. I love how it plays with that concept, and even though the final game in the series doesn’t entirely pick this idea up where this game left it, standalone this game is stunning in how it comes together.

#shitpost #long post #this was fun to do #i made it so every answer was a different video game and i tried to mix up my companies as well #got 3 atlus games on here but mer #2 obsidon #llol #2 sierra too haha but still #beginner's guide and tsp were made by the same guy too but #STILL I LIMITED MYSELF OK #these answers aren't absolute because i was trying to have a good diverse list lol

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haikyuuwaifu · 4 years

Text

Broken Promise

MASTERLIST

PART IV:

warning: ANGST; MILD SWEARING

A/N: THIS PART IS A TOUCH LONGER THAN THE REST

*18 Years old*

Your third and final year at Fukurodani was probably the hardest. You never really cared much for test taking or academics. More often than not you coasted on the seat of your pants; however, your parents wanted you to do well and get into a good college. Getting into a good college meant studying and preparing for entrance exams. For Akaashi, third year meant captaining the volleyball team and preparing for the entrance exams to the only school he wanted to attend. Between volleyball and studying the two of you spent less and less time together. Walking to school in the mornings was non-existent because he always had morning practice. Akaashi ended up walking home alone because you were caught up in the library or helping one of the art students with their modeling assignments. You found that you enjoyed being in front of a camera, and you enjoyed standing in a room and watching art students paint how they perceived you.

The slight distance didn’t deter you, you always made sure you texted him good morning and good night. You checked up on him during the day and when you remembered you always packed an extra bento. For all you knew, everything was fine.

Three months into the school year, you finally had your schedule down! You finally had time to spend time with your Kaashi-chan, and to celebrate that; you packed an extra bento and onigiri to split with him at lunchtime. When the lunch bell rang you made your way to your boyfriends class, sliding the door open you greet your classmates and make your way over to your boyfriend's desk. “Kaashi-chan!” you grin enthusiastically pulling the bento out of your bag; “I brought an extra bento and onigiri I thought we could have lunch together; I finally have the hang of my schedule down so we can spend more time together.” you ramble digging for your chopsticks. “Who is this jiji-chan?” you hear and snap your head in the direction of the new voice. Akaashi waves his hand in your direction. “This is [name]-chan, she’s my girlfriend, [name]-chan this is Michi-san she’s the new volleyball club manager.” “Thanks for bringing extra lunch, but Michi-san already offered because she accidentally made extra.” he states stroking your hand. You smile tightly; “It’s fine Kaashi-chan; do you want to walk home together today?” you ask sitting down picking at your lunch. He scratches his neck and sighs. “I really would, but I have longer practice to get ready for Prelims; and I don’t want you to wait for me.” “We can spend time together this weekend okay?” he asks patting your hand and resuming his conversation with the girl sitting next to him.

That weekend was the first of many weekends Akaashi broke with you.

The turning point of your relationship was six months later when Fukurodani went to nationals. Things with you and Akaashi were tenuous at best. You saw each other twice a week at this point and one of those times was for weekly family dinners. Every time you tried to spend time with him, he always managed to have plans. He was studying with Michi. He was helping her learn how to play volleyball. From the time you met her to the present she has been nothing but a stain on a relationship that spanned 11 years. You and Akaashi have never really fought throughout the entirety of your relationship. You knew each other so well there was no need to argue, because your communication was top tier. You brought up a number of times the fact that you two never saw each other anymore. You brought up the fact that all of his free time was spent with someone else. And he listened...everytime you brought it up he would coax you into his arms with kisses and soft words. He’d whisper in your hair that he was sorry and he would do better. He did do better for a day or two; and he was right back at it again, dipping out and already having plans. But you loved him...deep down you knew he was your Kaashi-chan, and you loved him with every fiber of your being.

The night before nationals you and Akaashi had a rare moment alone together. Your parents invited his family over for dinner. You both laid in the grass in your backyard pinkies touching staring up at the stars scattered across the sky. “Kaashi-chan” you whispered softly. He grunted in acknowledgement. “You still love me right?” you asked, turning to your side to look him in the eye. “Of course I love you [name]-chan” he scoffed turning to face you. “Why would you question that?” you shifted slightly. “We haven’t spent a lot of time together and before you know it we’ll be out of school and moving forward...I had to make sure you still loved me.” you whispered softly picking at the grass. He gripped your hands in his and tilted your chin up. “Of course I love you, and when we graduate we’ll both go to Tokyo University and pursue our dreams together.” he grinned stroking your cheek. You sighed into his hand. “Kaashi, I...I’m not going to Tokyo University...I’ve already talked to my parents and they said the would help cover the cost of my headshots; but I’m going to become a model.” you whispered looking him in the eye. He pulled his hand back slightly. “ How can you choose something with no stability [name]-chan, haven’t you learned nothing over the years?” he huffed sitting up. “It’s not that I havent learned anything Kaashi...I just want to do what makes me happy...and modeling makes me happy.” you state tugging him closer to you. “I don’t want to fight with you tonight, especially when you have a big match tomorrow, so can we put this on the back burner?” He nods pulling you into his arms. “I love you” you whispered. “I love you too” he mumbled as you interlocked your pinkies once more.

~Nationals~

You spent the whole of nationals in the Fukurodani cheering section supporting Akaashi. You met up with Bokuto and some old friends from Gym 3 before the games started. You laughed, you cried, and you were on the edge of your seat watching Fukurodani dominate. The last day Fukurodani was in the final match against Inarizaki. You attempted to get Akaashi’s attention so you could blow him a kiss for good luck, but he was too busy talking to Michi. You couldn’t let it get to you though; this was his big moment! You watched on the edge of your seat as Fukurodani and Inarizaki played a full 5 sets never taking your eyes off Akaashi. With great anticipation you watched as Akaashi did a setter dump scoring the winning point! You were so happy you were screaming and crying;jumping up and down with Bokuto and Kuroo. You made your way down the steps trying to get to Akaashi only to stop in your tracks at the edge of the court as you watched your boyfriend of five years swing Michi around and pull her in for a kiss. His arms around her waist and her arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. You watched it unfold with a sick gut wrenching feeling. Your breathing heavy as your eyes filled with tears waiting to spill. You turned and ran bumping into fans waiting to congratulate the team. You ran as far as you could stopping at a park bench; heaving over as loud sobs wracked your body.

You didn’t know how long you were there. In the moment all you cared about was the numbness of your heart as you thought back to the last five years and how it all changed in the blink of an eye. A gentle hand prodded your side, “You alright?” they asked. You shook your head curling further into yourself. You felt them wrap their arms around your back and under your legs. Picking you up they started walking in the direction they came. “It’s gonna start raining soon, and I don't think ya should be out. Ya could get sick or somethin.” You nodded along with the stranger that found you. “ Ya don’t look like ya wanna talk much, but I don’t know where I’m going” he declares glancing down at you. You sigh softly and whisper, “just take me to the closest bus stop...I’m sorry for the trouble.” and that’s the last thing you say as the two of you walk to the nearest bus stop.

Hours later you're in your bed curled up. You’ve already shut your phone off and closed your curtains. You can’t find it in you to move from the position you put yourself in when you got home. Luckily enough, your parents were out so you didn’t have to face their inquisitions. As you lay there staring into darkness you hear a tap on your window. The tapping gets louder but you don’t move. You hear a click and your window is slid open. Standing in your bedroom is the one man you don’t think you can stomach seeing. Akaashi stares at you reaching his hand out to touch you. You flinch as you try to make yourself as small as possible. He sighs and sits in your desk chair. Raking his hands through his hair he says, “[name]...it was an accident. It didn’t mean anything and it was in the heat of the moment.” he claims folding his hands together. “I've spent the last number of hours looking for you, and you have everyone worried sick.” he scolds running his fingers through his hair. You take note of how jittery he is and the fact that he can’t seem to sit still. “Why Akaashi...why would you do something like that” you ask, peeking out of your blanket. “It was an accident, like i t-”; “Bullshit!” you scream ripping the blanket off. “I saw you grab and kiss another fucking woman!” you rage squeezing your fists together. “I've been watching you for months! Making plans with her, eating her lunches, giving her your jacket...it’s like I don’t exist to you anymore Akaashi!” you scream falling to your knees tears streaming down your cheeks. He stares as you break down, shaking his head. “[name]...I don’t think I can do this anymore.” he declares as your whimpering turns into soft sobbing. “I’m going to Tokyo University, that’s always been my plan and you know that...and I can’t...Michi is the kind of woman who understands me...she understands my life plan and instead of going against it...she wants to be a part of it.” he continues as you continue to shake. “What happened to pinky promise Akaashi?” you ask between sobs. “What happened to love and be loved Keiji Akaashi!” you scream at him. He scoffs, shaking his head. “We aren’t little kids anymore [name], this is the real world now and there's no room for nonsense like that.” he pats your head. “I’ll give you a few weeks and then we can resume our normal friendship.” he states climbing back out the window. You grab the nearest object to you and throw at him screaming into the night.

PART III|PART V

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #osamu x reader #osamu scenarios

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peachebunnys · 4 years

Text

Pain, with Love IV

pairing: Horacio Carrillo x reader

summary: Arranged marriages are tough, but add that with having a drug lord on the loose? Horacio Carrillo can only imagine what’s coming for him.

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of arranged marriage

a/n: This is a really short chapter but it’s to bridge to what’s about to happy. Enjoy~

2.6k words

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Chapter 4;

The day goes by in a blur, with Horacio helping you around the house by tending to various household chores. To say he was spent would be an understatement, he was damn near exhausted and sweaty, realising how much of a chore managing a household was. It was almost evening when he was finally finished, noticing children filling the streets to play with their friends, while the pretty orange and pink hues filled the house once again.

You walk out the bedrooms humming, something Horacio noticed you did very often when you were occupied in doing a tedious task. He had learnt to find it endearing, watching you in your own little world singing or dancing to the radio as you swept the floors around the house.

Horacio thinks back to when he was younger, when his mother would do the same and how his father would always greet her with a hug from behind, with a small peck on her cheek as soon as he walks through the front door. There was just something about you - the innocence of not knowing the true horrors behind these four walls, and the purity of how you kept yourself occupied, was almost addicting to Horacio. Your personality was a contrast to his, complementing his too uptight and battle hardened character with your carefree and innocent self.

These were the kind of people, Horacio thought, that he’s been tirelessly trying to protect. To keep the streets of Bogota safe so that his men too, could come home to their wives without fear and enjoy the little things like these in life.

You notice Horacio seated on the stool by the kitchen counter, drinking cold water as he watched you sweep. “Done for the day already?” You muse, combing your stray hair behind your ears.

“I know I’ve said it before, but really, thank you. I never noticed how tiring all these work can get.” He gently placed down his cup and smiled sadly at you, “I’m sorry I haven't been making this relationship work.” He gestures to the both of you as his eyes are trained on you. “I’ll try to come home earlier, or at least help out more. It’s the least I could do.”

You wave your hand dismissively, hopping onto the high stool opposite him, “Thank you for helping me out today, despite your injuries and all. I know you’re a very busy man at work, doing this already means a lot.” You turned your head to look at the small photo frame that had your wedding photo displayed, the frame was a pretty silver colour that reflected off the harsh white kitchen lights. The sound of the kitchen clock was heard again, the relentless ticking echoing the room as the two of you sat in silence.

“How are you?”

“Sorry?” Your head snaps back to Horacio, and you see him straightening himself as he shifted in his seat.

“How have you been?” He repeats the question, albeit awkwardly this time.

God, was this how people get to know others?

Was this how people start conversations?

You were unsure how to respond, and the longer you took to answer, the more embarrassed Horacio got.

That was stupid, he thinks, why did I ask that out of the blue?

“I’ve been good,” you laugh, “is this your poor attempt at making conversations again, Horacio?” You gently tease him, smiling when you hear him laugh at your remark.

“I’m trying, please, you know I’m not good with people.”

“Was that why you were practically following me around at Paula’s party? You poor thing!” You coo, earning a soft ‘hey’ as you gently pat his arm. “It wasn’t a bad thing though, we became fast friends, I’m even surprised how quickly we clicked.”

Horacio smiles in thought, thinking back to his younger years. Rising through the ranks and being the Colonel in charge of Search Bloc was no easy task, shaping him to become someone more reserved and private - the carefree nature he once had, nowhere in sight.

“Yeah,” he replies, “shame you moved out of the country soon after, would’ve liked to remain in contact with you.”

You nod your head knowingly, feeling the same way he did. “Pity, right? You were kind of fun to be around back then.”

“Back then? Aren’t I fun now?”

You stare at him with a comical blank look, eyebrows cocking up soon after he asked that question, “I’m not going to answer that.”

The two of you spend the rest of the evening gently teasing one another and reminiscing about the past when the two of you first met. The nights were starting to get colder and that brings you to how you were here, hurdled up in multi-coloured blankets as you laid on your side of the bed, closing your eyes in hopes to finally fall asleep. Even with the windows closed and only the fan turned on, did you feel as if you were almost freezing.

Horacio walked into the room with a thick manila coloured folder in hand, turning on the side lamp next to him as he settled into bed. His pillows were firmly placed against the headboard, making space for him to lean on as he started reading through the documents in the file. He took a glance at you, noticing how your eyes were shut and all snuggled in with many layers of blankets on top of you. To him, you resembled a burrito, tightly pulling the sheets against you for some semblance of warmth.

The longer Horacio looked at you, the more he started to notice. Like the way you would scrunch up your nose every once in a while, or how you ducked your head slightly - pulling the sheets over your head to block the light. You snored too, but it was so soft that Horacio would’ve missed it if he wasn’t paying so close attention to you as he was now.

He gently closed the case file, smiling to himself at how cute you looked. He carefully adjusted the blankets that were draped over your body, moving them so that they would cover you entirely.

He turns back to his case file, reading through the documents until he feels his eyelids getting heavier. He takes a quick swig at the small flask he kept next to him, for times like these when he was staying up late. The pressure and stress was slowly getting to him again, and despite knowing that his team was in good hands, he still felt worried about what could happen to them at any moment.

That was the thing about these narcos, they were always so unpredictable, which forces you to be on your toes all the time. Who knew what the men of Gatcha were plotting, and who knew when they would strike? These thoughts plagued Horacio’s mind, and he once again started pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to be more awake. He downed the remaining alcohol that was left in the flask and shut the case file aggressively, snapping his head towards you when the folder made a loud smack.

He noticed you stirring and he internally cursed himself for making so much noise. The bed was starting to shift more and he turned to look at you again, seeing how distressed you were being all of a sudden. Your arms were clutching the duvet tightly, muttering something way too soft for Horacio to hear. However, as you kept on tossing and turning in bed, your voice was starting to get more strained, louder even - allowing Horacio to pick up bits and pieces of your broken cries.

“Dad… Please… Don’t..” Horacio slowly reached out his hand, cupping the your fist that had the blanket balled, and rubbed the skin gently.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

At the sound of his voice, you bolted awake, panting as tears started streaming down your face. You looked around the room that was lit up by the night lamp that Horacio had turned on earlier. The windows were starting to shake, wind howling as the weather turned for the worse. There was a sudden flash of light, lighting up the room more than it already was, and then silence.

The thunder had came as a surprise, catching you off guard in your already shaken state. Your body visibly jerked backwards, almost hitting your head against the bed frame if it weren’t for Horacio’s arm that blocked it.

With teary eyes, you looked back at Horacio who had worry written all over his face, arm still wrapped around your shoulder awkwardly.

“Are you alright?” He whispers, almost as if he didn’t want to startle you.

You find yourself unable to form a coherent sentence, bursting out in tears as you manage to choke out a soft ‘I dreamt of my dad’ that Horacio nearly didn’t catch.

He hesitated as you reached out to hold him, sobbing into the blankets.

Should I hug her? Should I keep my distance?

He didn’t want to invade your personal space, especially in a vulnerable moment like this. However, just as he decided to pull away, you had shifted yourself closer to him, resting your head against his arm.

He immediately nodded, rubbing your back comfortingly as you tried to even your breathing, eyes staring at your clenched fists. The lightning came again, and this time the thunder that came after was louder than the previous one, instinctively making you duck your head into Horacio’s shoulder. He dropped his case file on the ground, arm snaking around your smaller being to gently pat your head. You lean closer into him, resting your head on his strong chest as you felt your vision becoming clearer. You were so small compared to his strong built, and he hugged you like you were as fragile as glass, not wanting you to break in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Horacio whispers to you softly, hugging you tighter when he feels you shake your head. As he cradles you in his arms, he hears your soft whimpering coming to a halt - indicating that you must’ve felt somewhat better from his gentle touches.

“I,” you sniffle, “I dreamt of my dad.”

The way you sounded so broken and afraid in his arms made his heart clench, a stark contrast to how confident and happy you always were with him. Tears flowed down your cheeks, staining Horacio’s shirt as you gripped the sides of the thin material tightly. Your breathing had started to become even, and the steady heartbeat of Horacio was helping to soothe your current wrecked state.

Horacio shifted his body slowly, allowing you to hug him in a more comfortable manner. The topic of your father was always a touchy one, considering the fact he was the reason why they were in an arranged marriage in the first place. He could only imagine how devastated you were from losing a loved one - numb to the feeling after seeing crying family members outside his police station once too often.

If only I could help you more, he sighs, feeling useless in this situation with how he was unable to do anything else but gently caress your head. He repeats the words ‘it’s okay’ to you, ducking his head slightly as to whisper them into your ears. You nod, gently releasing his shirt and coiling your arms around his muscular back.

Your dad was always your pillar of support in your life, the main person you looked up to in times of need. He was, however, the only family you had left when your mother had passed away when you were only a few years old. Since then, it was only you and your father against the world, battling through obstacles together with the support of each other. All this changed when he had started becoming terminally ill in your final year of college, contracting final stage cancer while you were in your last semester.

He made sure that no one was to tell you of his sickness, not wanting to add stress to the already full plate of yours. It was only after graduation that you found out about the news, rushing home immediately to be by your father’s side as he took his final breath. It was his dying wish, that you would not be alone - to be wedded to his best friend's son once he finally leaves the world.

Which brings you here, in Horacio’s arms, struggling to breathe as you silently cried about your father appearing in your dreams again.

Strange, isn’t it? How your life could change so quickly and plunge you into a different direction than anticipated? Sure, Horacio’s parents treated you like their own, taking you in as you wrapped up everything in school and came back to Colombia. They agreed to your wishes of wanting to be alone for some time before carrying out your father’s final wish, allowing you to grief over a period of five months before marrying Horacio.

Horacio looks up at the room again, noticing the heavy raindrops smacking the flimsy window aggressively, the sound echoing throughout the room. The night was dark and cold, and Horacio hugged you tighter as the rain continued pouring outside.

Just as he thinks you have finally calmed down, he slowly uncoils his arms from around you, ready to lie in his side of the bed. As soon as his arms were detached from you, you immediately pulled him back towards you, hugging him tighter, almost as if he would float away if you were to let go.

“Please,” it’s all you manage to croak out, “I don’t want to be alone.”

With one arm hugging you into his chest again, he readies the bed, settling the pillows down and slowly lies down. You lay your head on his strong chest, hugging his body tightly as you listened to his heartbeat quicken. You choose to ignore it for now, too occupied with the thoughts that swamp your head. You were grateful though, that Horacio was holding you close, that a small gesture like this was able to make you feel immensely better. Just the thought of knowing you weren’t alone put your mind at ease, and you shifted your body to move closer to Horacio, closing the gaps if it weren’t already there.

He reaches to switch off the light next to him, gently drawing circles your back with his thumb in a comforting manner with his other hand. He stared off into the dark room, thinking about how gentle and pure you were, and that maybe, just too pure and good for him.

I don’t deserve you, he thinks, moving his other arm to gently brush out the hair that was sprawled on your face.

You’re just too good for me.

As the minutes go by, the rain stops, the night as silent as it once was - for everyone was finally asleep. The nearby street lights shined into the room, and Horacio eyes the clock at the corner, noticing that it was way past midnight. He closes his eyes, a weak attempt at trying to fall asleep, but his mind kept drifting back to you.

The exhaustion was starting to seep back into him and he took a quick glance at you, noticing that you were already fast asleep. He tries again, closing his eyes, hoping that this time he will finally succumb to how tired he was. As he finally feels himself falling asleep, he hears your voice, soft and steady, whispering into his chest.

“Thank you Horacio.”

And with that, he slept.

#horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo imagine #horacio carrillo #narcos #peachebunnys fic

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ruthoakenshield · 4 years

Text

The Lady in the Black Leather (Ch 20)

catch up here: [chapter 19]

Richard X reader , Aiden X Scarlett X Reader

Morning came all too soon for you. Aiden & Scarlett woke you up knocking on your door at 8am. The officer from last night looks up at them then over to you. You grin and nod and he motions for them to enter.

Scarlett comes in and plops on the bed and hands you a hot cup of coffee. You thank her and sip on it. The officer stands and tells you that he will go out in the hallway and let you have some time with your friends and to call for him if you need anything.

You thank him and he heads out to the hall.

Aiden wandered in and plopped down on the floor and petted Phantom. “So, how’s it going with Rich?” he asks. “Good.” You reply with a smug grin.

“You two getting pretty close? He looked so worried about you yesterday after you had been shot. It really scared him, Harley. I think more than he wanted to let on.” he tells you.

You nod. “Yeah, we have talked a lot and are getting close. I have never been treated the way he treats me. All my prior boyfriends were jerks compared to him. They never treated me with kindness and only manhandled me roughly.” You tell him. Scarlett rolls her eyes and says, “Now that’s and understatement if I ever heard one!”

You glare at her and continue, “Richard makes me feel safe and loved. It’s still hard for me to get used to. It helps though that he always has a hand resting gently on me. Either on my back or around my waist or on my arm, or just holding hands.” You reply.

Scarlett and Aiden grin. “Yeah, we noticed he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you.” They both giggle. “He can be quite possessive, but it’s always in a good way, don’t worry.” Aiden tells you.

“Chivalry certainly isn’t dead with him!” Scarlett giggles.

You giggle. “Well, I don’t want a knight in shining armor.” You reply as you raise the bed up more so you’re more in a sitting position. You wince and adjust your weight, so it isn’t on your left leg as much.

Aiden looks at you confused. “I thought that was what all women wanted, a knight in shining armor to come rescue them and take them to the castle to live happily ever after. Why don’t you want that?” he asks.

You chuckle. “Thank You Disney for giving young impressionistic women such a dangerous ideal! I much prefer Tolkien’s version of Knights/warriors and royalty. If I’m gonna have a knight come and rescue me, I want him in dented and dinged up armor. A knight in shining armor means he hasn’t seen battle and never waged war. You don’t know if he’ll stick around when the battle gets intense, or if he’ll tuck tail and flee, leaving you to fend for yourself.

Whereas a knight in dented and dinged up armor shows he HAS seen battle and had his mettle tested. It means he has fought, defeated and survived what the world has thrown at him. And not fled when the going got tough. He stands and fights to defend what he loves and cares about.” You giggle. “He’s a real warrior!”

Scarlett nods. Aiden just smirks and grins widely. “I guess I never thought of it that way, but I get what you’re saying. It makes sense.” He tells you as he takes a bite of his breakfast sandwich.

“So, speaking of knights, what are your plans for today? Isn’t Sir Guy working all day today?” Scarlett asks.

You giggle and nod catching her Robin Hood reference to Richard. “Yeah, he’s workin’ all day today. He asked Graham if he’d stay with me today and meet with the attorney that Rich hired for me.

I guess I have to appear before the judge to tell him my side of the story. Then I have to appear before him again as my ex stands before him and explains himself. After that, the judge will make his ruling on the restraining order being made permanent or temporary.” You explain.

“How are you going to appear before a judge when you’re in the hospital?” Aiden asks.

“I guess Alex was going to try to set something up using the internet and video calling.” You explain. “I am not entirely sure.”

“Ah, that would make sense then.” He replies.

You nod and are quiet for a few minutes. “Thank you for the flowers and balloon, you two.” You tell Aiden and Scarlett.

“Glad you like them, Hun.” Scarlett says. “You seem pretty quiet this morning. Didn’t you sleep very well?” she asks.

You shake your head. “No, the nurses were in and out a lot checking on me every hour. The officer assigned to guard me ended up telling them to let me sleep and to leave me alone for a while.” You tell her. “I’m just tired and been thinking about a lot of stuff.” You reply.

(You spent a lot of last night thinking of all the people who have helped you and wondered how you can thank them for everything. Saying ‘thank you’ just doesn’t seem to be enough.

You decided to do something nice for each person who has helped you through this. Starting with Richard and Graham. You make a note to ask Graham what you could do for something special for Rich.

You thought about Graham and how far away his family is. You wish you could meet them and say “Hi” so they can put a face with a name. You decide to ask him about his family today and ask him what their names are.)

You ask Aiden how long he has known Graham and Rich. He replied they all met on the set of the Hobbit films. You ask him what kinds of things does Rich like. You explain that you realized you didn’t know much about him, he always turns the conversations to be about you.

Aiden chuckled. “He always does that. And it can get to be annoying. He hates talking about himself. I’ve learned most of what I know just by watching him & listening & observing.” Aiden explains. “He likes to read, and has several Lego sets of the Hobbit. He’s just a big little kid at heart. He likes a good wine, chocolate ice cream, and good coffee, and was pretty good at horse riding and sword fighting. He is frugal with his money, but isn’t afraid to splurge on those he loves. He did mention one time that his Mom used to help him answer fan mail and it meant a lot to him. He really misses her, she passed away a few years ago.

He doodles, and dances, and tends to write back stories for his characters he portrays.” Aiden tells you.

“So, if I wanted to do something super special for him as a ‘thank you’ for all the help he has been, what would be something meaningful for him?” you ask.

“Hmmm. I don’t know. Maybe a nice journal for him to do his writing in, or taking him to a winery for a private tour? I guess it depends on what you want to spend. He really just seems to cherish spending time with you, Harley.” Aiden tells you.

You nod.

“Well, I need to get ready. I’m supposed to spend the day with Graham. I have no idea what we are going to do other than meeting with the lawyer. He said to let him know when I was up and ready to go.” You tell them.

“Ok.” Aiden says as he stands up. “If you want some company, let us know. We can meet up with you later on.”

“Thanks, Aiden, I’ll let you know.” You tell him.

“I’ll head out and get us some breakfast while you get ready. What do you want, Scarlett?” He tells her with a kiss to her cheek and brushes a strand of her curly, red hair off her face.

“I’ll eat whatever you find, Sweetie.” She tells him.

“What about you, Harley?” he asks.

“Thanks, Aiden, but Graham is picking up breakfast for me on his way here.” You tell him.

Aiden nods and heads out to get himself and Scarlett breakfast.

You grab your phone and text Graham. “Morning Pops! What’s the plans for today besides meeting with the attorney?”

He texts back “Morning Sunshine! Not sure what we’ll end up doing. We can figure that out when I get there. Still want breakfast? How’d last night go?” he replies.

“Ok, Yes, can you pick up something for breakfast, please? Didn’t get much sleep. Nurses kept me up checking on me every hour till the officer told them to leave me alone and let me sleep.” You text him. “When ya coming up to see me?”

“Be there in about an hour, Sweetie.” He texts back. “Finishing up some stuff here before I go.” He replies.

“Ok Pops, see ya soon! 😊”

Scarlett grins and shows you that she brought up some of your tops and corsets. “So you feel a little more comfortable.” The nurses said you can put the tops on but want you to wait with the corsets till later.” She tells you.

Scarlett helps you find something to wear and you end up putting on a long sleeved black peasant top with the shorts the hospital provided. A nurse helped with the ports, disconnecting them long enough for you to put the top on and then re-connected the iv’s to the ports.

Scarlett helps you with washing your face and helps with your hair and the two of you have fun playing around with a few different hair styles for your incredibly long hair. The two of you settled on a 5 strand Dutch French braid.

Aiden comes back in after a bit with breakfast for him and Scarlett and said, “Oooohhh! I like the hair!” as he comes over and admires your braid hanging over your shoulder. “Your hair is SO long, Harley! How long did it take to grow it out like that?” he asks.

You giggle. “10 years!” you reply and laugh as Aiden’s jaw drops.

“What?!?! Did you just say 10 years?!?!?!” he asks.

You nod.

“Wow!” he replies as he runs his fingers along the braid. “How do you keep it so soft and nice looking?” he asks.

You chuckle. “Hair oil, and I get it trimmed regularly to control split ends. I also try to keep it in some kind of braid or updo so it’s not just flying all over and getting all tangled up.” You reply.

He nods. “I can’t imagine having hair this long. We thought the long wigs we had to wear for The Hobbit were annoying. They kept getting in our faces and making it hard to see. When we weren’t filming, they were all tied back so it was out of our faces.” He tells you.

You giggle. “But you all looked so damn sexy with long hair!” you tease. He blushes and grins.

Scarlett digs through the bag of food Aiden brought and hands him a breakfast sandwich, “Here, Aid. Sit and eat.” She tells him as she pulls out one and a container of tater tots and sets them on the bedside table.

You giggle and snitch a few tater tots and pop them in your mouth. Grinning wickedly when Aiden says, “Hey! You said you didn’t want anything!”

Scarlett smacks him on the arm. “Oh hush! She can have a few of the tater tots to hold her till Graham gets here!” she scolds.

Just then you get a text from Rich. “Hey Love! Am just taking a break on set and thought I’d say, ‘hi and love you!’ How’s it going this morning?”

You reply back, “Hi Hon! The morning’s going good. Just getting ready for the day. Aiden and Scarlett are here now & Graham will be here in an hour. He had to run some errands before we meet with the attorney.” You message back.

He sends you a thumbs up emoji and ‘Have fun, sweetheart! See you after work. Xoxo’

If you wish to be added / deleted from the tag list let me know:

Tagging: @fizzyxcustard @thorinthehottytotty @dumbassunderthemountain@deepestfirefun @thetherianthropydaily @daisy-picking-lady @spookybunny-blog @dabisburntnut @emrfangirl @midnight-reader-morning-sleeper @hilary456 @criminaly-supernatural

#richard armitage #reader x richard armitage #aiden turner #Scarlett #Harley #Phantom #breakfast #getting to know each other #getting to know you #chit chat #making plans #love notes #fluff #affection

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yeoldontknow · 5 years

Text

As Still As Sound: 4

Author’s Note: thank you to everyone who has patiently waited for this update. ive been waiting for it too. ily so much. i hope you enjoy <3 Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Songs Mentioned: From Her To Eternity - Nick Cave and The Badseeds / Cry To Me - Solomon Burke Genre: soulmate!au; angst; fluff; romance Rating (this chapter): R Warnings: some mature sexual themes; explicit language Word Count: 9K

masterlist

Months ago, the concert was your idea, a thing you suggested with fire behind your teeth and adrenaline in your veins.

You remember, now, the way your hands rushed to buy the tickets, typing passwords and entering pre-sale codes, telling Kate over and over down the phone that you’d pay for hers if you got in, that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity - that Nick Cave, more than anyone, had constructed your adulthood. In your heart, you carried him, the sound of his voice, and the words from his lips - a soundtrack of misery, anguish, and the fleeting experience of contentment that painted your journey into maturity red and red and red.

Months ago, Kate agreed, her excitement at the prospect of joining you almost wild and ravenous. Together, you’d looked forward to this, marked days on calendars and held the tickets in your hands in the morning before work, disbelieving and somewhat overwhelmed.

Today, the concert is her idea, a suggestion born purely from kindness; a friendly reminder you need to go out, away from your home and away from your constant, desperate soundtrack - released, finally, from your state of entrapment.

It is not, you imagine, that your anticipation of the show has ceased - far from it - merely that your anticipation and excitement has been redirected to a man whose voice is just as low, just as effective, and meant for your ears alone. The gravel nestled within Chanyeol’s voice is a chocolate honeycomb of affection, putting syrup and sweetness and devotion into your blood - a sugar rush upon which you get high; where Nick’s lyrics remind you of the heartbreak so unilaterally partnered with the act of living, Chanyeol’s words - simple and unpoetic as they often are - ignite the hope you had scorned and turned away, putting the thrill of living back into your lungs.

For weeks you have wondered if this is how people live now, if this is how people had been living long before the solar flare - endlessly searching and seeking, restless and waiting for the vibrancy of an overeager heartbeat; hoping and hoping and hoping to be touched and felt and needed.

Until Chanyeol, this was not you. These types of deep rooted, tenacious emotions carried with them an unprecedented sense of repulsion - not to the person, but to the intensity, and to, more than anything, the incomprehensible notion that you needed another person to feel whole.

Finding romance, for you, was a pleasure, and seeking pleasure in another person was a brief, impermanent adventure, something only slightly more transient than a roller coaster. Did people always crave like this? Did your parents want and need and yearn for one another long before they had confirmation they could? Was it not existentially exhausting to want and pine and wish, almost as compulsively as breathing, for the arms of another?

Would you, had you met Chanyeol on the street and not entwined or laced between your music, have felt such pining and longing for his hands, his voice, his breath as you do now? Would you, had you seen him at the shop, buying records and buying albums, unknowingly sharing his music taste with your cash register, have listened to all the same things, hoping to share a part of him as you do now?

In the end, it does not matter.

These questions do not matter because the cosmos has built itself around you and around him, twining your hearts together until the days have started to blur into one half formed and hardly tangible rise and set of the sun. In your efforts of hearing him once more, the play count and hours logged on your last.fm have reached new highs, an almost constant list of songs based on genres, artists, and decades you imagine he would like growing and growing until, for several hours, it stopped counting altogether, seemingly overwhelmed. Where before you listened to only one album, playing through enough Neil Diamond to feel as though his lyrics are the lexicon of your speech, now you have knowledge of a science and a pattern, but no element of control to manage your testing.

All you know is that you will meet him when you play the same song, and you have, and will and are, pushed yourself into obsession in the effort of meeting him again.

And so it is not that you do not want to go to the show any longer.

On the contrary, you find, as you tie the laces of your combat boots and check - twice before you leave and once after the tube carriage doors close - for your tickets, you are craving the thunder and violence of live music. Lately, you have needed to be rattled - shaken down to your core by something familiar, not something cosmic. Live music builds the person you are back up from nothing, the person you have lost after days and weeks and months of work, and family, and responsibility structured through a sound wave.

In losing yourself completely, surrendering to the passion and the energy and the noise until your mind is full of nothing else, do you find your true soul, remember who you are and what you are, someone who survives on the edge of existence and with a smile wide enough to hurt.

And so, it is not that you don't want to go to the show. You are adamant about this, reminding yourself that you need the emotional rest and that you crave this as you stand on the tube platform. An approaching train puts a warm breeze through your hair, the unprecedented loudness drowning out all other sounds and leaving you, momentarily, in a dull roar of silence. Grimacing, you step on the train, frustrated with the noise of the tube and the sense that you lose time every time you take a journey.

Time you could have spent finding Chanyeol.

Annoyed with yourself, you release a chastising laugh. It is not that you don’t want to go to the show, it is simply the hours with live music are hours without him, without an opportunity to find him, have him, hold him - three minutes amongst hours that slip through your fingers. Pressing your back against rough cushion of the tube seat, you raise the volume of the music in your headphones, hoping the sound of Etta James can slow your rapid thoughts into silence, a pout pushing at your lips in disdain.

You only ever have three minutes with Chanyeol, three minutes which seem to pass in seconds, time slipping through and around you as though you are both simultaneously part of the natural order of the earth and separate from it altogether. His voice alone renders time meaningless, a concept the air in his lungs blows to dust, lips kissing at words that become stars in your eyes and held together by the fabric of your ardor. Three minutes and endless seconds, hours missed and hours lost, and it is all completely unequivocally unfair.

Tonight, the tube carriage is full of people and strangers, some bonded, some free; some headed to the same show as you, evidenced by their band tee shirts and their jittery, shaking legs, and all, most likely, will get to experience the slow descent into love at a pace they have chosen to set. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you bite back a frustrated sigh, willing your mouth to suck the bitterness from your tongue. The envy of their supposed simplicity sends your heart sinking, resentful and aware that you deserve nothing less than what you have been given.

Gifted to you, somewhat cruelly, is a love that appears only when you least expect it and always when you imagine it has departed from you entirely, a fluke or trick of the imagination brought forward by the human instinct to want a partner. Once more, you are reminded of Kate's words, her small laugh and the acknowledgement that this sort of connection is so like you, your inherent distrust of love resulting in a connection that feels incredible but seems to distrust if you were worthy of it.

But still, your hand grips your phone tightly, hoping that maybe Chanyeol is listening to Etta James too and that, even if you do not meet in these songs, he wants you, through and beyond time, and down to his very core.

Kate is waiting for you at the front entry of the Eventim Apollo, a delicate flush painted on her cheeks from the uncharacteristically cool night and a bounce in her knees, unable to keep still. A smile is tucked into the corner of her lips as she speaks on the phone, a secret affection given away by the glimmer of joy in her eyes. The surrounding city lights are eaten by the matte fabric of her burgundy coat, as though she absorbs the world and glows on her own. Hurrying through her conversation as you approach, she laughs, the sound adopting a musical cadence she only ever exudes when she is blissfully happy.

'Yes, I'll text when it's over and we're leaving,' she says, rushing through the words as she waves you over. 'Do you want me to call if they play Jesus of the Moon? Okay, love you too. Bye.'

Coming to stand at her side, you dig through your bag, smiling to yourself. 'Baekhyun couldn't make it?'

She slips her phone into her pocket, taking the ticket you hand her with a small pout. 'No, he couldn't find any tickets on StubHub or the forums. The prices were astronomical.'

Nodding, you walk with her to the queue, which has already begun to shrink. Doors opened twenty minutes ago, and while you both have standing stall tickets, neither of you had the energy to queue. It will be just as magical, you know, standing towards the back and letting the light in.

'I can't imagine the fans would be selling,' you muse, opening your bag for checking and offering a polite smile to the security guard who nods mutely in gratitude. 'I'm disappointed, though. I was looking forward to meeting him.'

'You'll meet him soon enough,’ she replies offhandedly, muttering a gentle thank you as security waves her forward. 'I'm impressed by you, though.'

Walking through the entry, you hand your ticket for scanning and cock a quizzical brow in her direction. 'How do you mean?'

Ticket scanned, she pushes it into her bag before gesturing her hands over her ears, giving the impression of ear muffs. 'You brought the small earbuds and not your big clunkers.'

Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips. 'I hate that you call them that.’

The slight irritation in your voice is undercut by the hum of people within the venue, some at the bar and others heading towards coat check. Glancing in Kate's direction, you find her eyes remain locked on the entryway to the stage floor, expression unfazed and unmarred by your displeasure. It does not matter if she heard you or not, she's had this conversation enough to know your opinion.

'They're studio headphones,’ you finish, unbothered by the petulant tone you’ve adopted.

She laughs, nodding at your clarification while she trains a focused stare on the sound booth and the surrounding barrier.

'There good?' she asks, pointing to the section just in front of the sound desk - a place for you to stand and lean if you grow tired. At your hum of approval, she beelines with you in tow, and continues where your conversation left off.

'Precisely zero people walk around the tube with those,’ she says, pride overtaking an edge to her voice, pleased by her success of finding a good spot.

'Fuck off,' you murmur, leaning back against the barrier and assessing your view of the stage. 'I just didn't want to bring a big bag. And,' you emphasize, turning to finally look at her once more, 'I'll have you know those headphones have incredible audio quality.'

'For music?' Kate's lip curls in a mischievous smirk, and your mouth runs dry in anticipation. 'Or for a certain someone?'

A small hiss of air escapes your teeth, bemused but unsurprised. For a moment, you let your eyes wander around the room, battling with yourself as you decide just how much you want to give away.

'And if I said both?' you counter eventually, voice bold and unflinchingly honest as you watch her expression immediately softens.

'Any luck the last few days, then?'

You shake your head, spine straightening as you roll your shoulders back, determined to appear decidedly okay. 'No.'

‘Are you certain he’s your soulmate?’

It is neither an insult nor an accusation, but still the air escapes your lungs, chest winded and pained by the unintended cruelty of her question. But then, you quickly realize the last she's heard is that you were uncertain - that you had no idea about him at all, meeting with her at the pub only to disappear for weeks, responding here and there through text. To her, your relationship with Chanyeol is as good as a science experiment. While you know for a fact you had lied, unwilling to admit, then, that you knew from the moment his first breath reached your ears he was yours, now she simply questions your diligence in an act of concern for her closest friend.

And so you smile, aware that the expression looks sad, unmoved in your effort to make someone else feel comfortable when discussing this topic.

‘I’m confident it’s him.’

The firmness in your tone as you say the words does not make up for the pain your muscles had taken on after you lied, but at least, in this moment, the weightlessness of such a melancholy statement gives your heart the sensation of floating beneath your sternum.

It feels good to say it, to admit it. It feels good to be claimed by him.

Warmth floods her irises, one of her hands coming to hold your arm in gentle reassurance. Empathy mixes with sympathy, shades of the Kate you remember pre-Baekhyun glossing over her current visage in a sort of time slip. It hits you, then, that she had felt this way, once. While she had a clear marker for her connection, a clock beneath her skin stopping the moment she came into contact with her soulmate, the confidence that she would ever be released from her own prison had never once been something she believed she could touch.

All at once, you are reminded of the months she said she wanted to bond even if she didn’t like it, just so that it could be over.

'You'll figure it out soon,' she affirms, the softness in her voice mixing with her stubborn determination. 'On the bright side, this is a vast improvement from believing you don't have anyone at all.'

'Is it though?' You don't mean for it to sound pleading, but the ferocity of your affection has taken hold of pieces within your soul you did not know existed. And, while you are confident you don’t wish to be freed from this new, uncharted intensity, you simply wish there was a logic to make the pain a little more bearable. 'Or am I simply driving myself mad, thinking and overthinking?'

'You do that anyway,' she counters, playfully, 'so I'm not sure the bond is to blame.'

Laughing, you nudge your shoulder into hers and release a groan of agreement, jostled by her honesty. Regardless if you had bonded with Chanyeol or not, your mind would have raced towards an infinite number of conclusions, exhausting your heart into a state of paralysis. Bond or no bond, your mind was never one to allow itself a moment of reprieve.

'Look,' she continues, cocking her head towards the stage in encouragement. 'Just forget about it for tonight. You need a break. No bonds. Just us and our first boyfriend.'

Kate’s advice is sound, and it works for a while. For a time, you are tethered to the moment by the strength in the hold of her hand, the way she holds you to her side and shares, with all of herself, the light and the sound and the feeling. But soon, her grasp on your hand turns your thoughts inward, in that purgatory of time between the opener and the main act, when there is little to do apart from buy another pint of cider, feeling the thrum of excitement down into your bones.

While she checks her phone for texts from Baekhyun, you wonder if Chanyeol is here, sharing this moment with you the same way you have been sharing songs. It would not be preposterous to assume he would be, the majority of London’s rock scene gathered to get high and get wrecked by a sonic release that will likely feel akin to something biblical. Craning your neck, you glance around the venue, hoping to be struck by him as if by lightning.

For weeks, you’ve wondered if you’ve passed him, shared a tube with him - if he’s even in London at all. Being separated by miles and seas from your soulmate is not uncommon; you would not be the first instance of such a curse, but still those couples found one another, and so you have not given up the waxy sensation of hope as it glides over your fingers.

But still, you may be the first instance of couple sharing song and sharing sound, only having minutes - perhaps less - to glean as much information from one another as you can. Those who hear one another’s thoughts coordinate meeting places, already knowing what and who they should be looking for; those with sensory loss and clocks have concise ways of knowing when and how to find their person, the earthquake of first contact partnered with a monumental change. Yet, there is no guarantee you would find Chanyeol even if he were here, no promise that you would feel him even if he were rows behind or in front of you.

And so you cling, in the end, to the prayer that tonight, even if he is not here, he finds his way to any of the twenty-six songs on the setlist.

The lights dim at nine on the dot, carrying with it the familiar sensation of floating, the yells from the crowd swiftly wiping any further thought from your mind. You smile - you feel yourself smiling, and you are unsure when your cheeks had pulled back to reveal your teeth, but you do not mind. At once, the hairs on your arms stand on end, brought to life by the strength of adrenaline alone, the gooseflesh along your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. Kate’s hand squeezes yours, a touch and a hold that feels to you like a liveware, and you lift yourself taller, back straightening as though boosted by the roar of the speaker feedback.

The first notes hit you in the center of your chest, the kind of eruption that could leave a person winded, and the force of it does not seem to stop throughout the night. Eyes closed, mouth screaming the words, the only tether you have to the earth is Kate’s hand, rooting you to gravity. Tension leaves your jaw, the stress of existence seeping from your bones and leaving you weightless, skin tingling from the sudden relaxation. Throughout the night, Kate’s hand in yours becomes a comfort, a familiar sensation you do not need to focus on but recognize just the same, feeling safe simply because her own fingers press into your knuckles in delight.

And it is then, in the middle of From Her To Eternity, when you realize touch and contact carries with it its own set of rules, a logic and an understanding that goes far beyond conscious conception; a logic that need not be experienced in order to be conceived - you can feel the texture of silk just by thinking of the word; you can feel, rather easily, the cool clasp of a leather jacket, just by picturing the silver.

And it is then, in the middle of From Her To Eternity, that you think on Chanyeol, on the way he pulls at you and your soul, and suddenly, all at once, as if he had never been departed from you at all, feel him over and inside of you.

From out of the black, his hands tug at your waist, aching to press you flush against his body - seemingly disdainful of any separation. During the guitar riff before the chorus, you can almost hear him, cheering and singing along to the notes with an ecstatic sort of howl - one hand fisting in your shirt in an effort to make sure you experience him at the same time. Heart racing and blood rushing beneath your skin, you lean back into where you imagine his chest would be, careful not to fall or pull Kate with you. You take luxury in the peculiarity of this sensation, at a body without a body being at once behind and a part of yours. Almost instantly, you open for and open to him, begging him to stay, to never leave, to make a home of you, and you spread your legs a little wider hoping to feel his leg press against your thighs, encouraging him to bind his bones with yours.

A shiver walks along your nerves as his other hand glides up your extended arm, carding your fingers together as he sings - rich, and full voiced, and transcendent - all the lyrics you echo back to him, to Nick, to the atmosphere. The warmth of his aura floods your muscles, a small moan escaping your lips in the middle your favourite lyric, words garbled by the sudden overwhelm of heat. As badly as you want Chanyeol, so too does he want your skin, wants the prints of your fingertips smeared all over him, bodies thrumming from passion, adrenaline, and delirium.

The fabric of your clothes becomes tight, the denim of your black jeans feeling thin and damp around the curve of your ass; your shirt, wrapped in his grip and rubbing against your waist, is moist at the base of your spine, the heat from the crowd and the heat from Chanyeol pulling the wetness from your pores. His long fingers extend upward against your stomach, grazing the soft fabric of your bra with his nails - a sensation that tickles you, barely there and barely tangible, but felt all the same.

Looking up at your hand, vision blurred and lips pulled into a messy, lopsided smile, you suddenly feel dizzy.

This hand is empty. You know and can see that it is empty. Part of you does not question this because if he were here, if he were truly with you, the roughness of his skin would ignite the chemistry of your molecules, transforming you into something Other and something Unknown. You know your hand is empty, but still the haze of fingers and knuckles and the pink redness of blood at the fingertips takes shape. The blurred edges of this image make you feel motion sick, bewildered by the sudden trick of the light and the trick of your heart, blinking once and twice before it is gone altogether.

There is no hand holding yours, no fingers pressing hungrily at your breast, but you feel them - you still feel him, as though the seismic weight of your wishing has brought him forth, brought the memory of every other contact you’ve felt into the nerves of your palm and married it, desperately, with the malformed shadow of Chanyeol.

It’s difficult, you find, building a person around a voice or building a heart around sound, but then - isn’t that what a heartbeat is? A constant rhythm keeping space and keeping time, pulling you close and close and close, able to be recognized regardless of the cartilage that separates you from it.

Chanyeol holds you close, curled into you from fear that you will leave him, rocking into your back and pressing a smile into the skin of your neck as he sings and sings and sings. You’re vibrating, holding onto nothing at the same time as you hold onto Kate, feeling wetness pool between your thighs from the sheer magnitude of wanting without having, knowing how it feels to be pressed close to a body, the hardness of a person grazing your back and ass, and allow your mind to fill the missing pieces in on your behalf. The sound of his voice travels through your ears, your mind, and into your open mouth, tongue going dry from the sheer force of him.

Like always, he is a flood, a force of nature you absolutely cannot resist, soul surrendering, almost immediately, to the magic of his existence.

It could be the cider, you think, that elevates your heart rate and puts a rush of blood into your lips that makes them feel swollen, and full, begging to be kissed or bitten. It could be the crowd and their energy making you wish and crave for someone to share this intimacy with, the energy of the room pushed flush the chambers of your heart, and your brain ensuring the hazy outline of Chanyeol be there to deliver you to paradise. In the end, you decide it does not matter, the answers to these questions are not nearly as meaningful as the way he tells you this is his favourite song too, and you cling to the way he speaks and breathes; mostly, you cling to the way his lips seem to press against your ear, demanding you hear him and you do not forget.

And just as swiftly as the song started, just as quickly as the feeling came, it leaves you, the red flush on your chest lingering even after he is gone. The heat from the room sticks to your skin, much the same way Kate’s eyes burn into your profile. With vigor, she pulls her hand from yours, tugging it from your grip. In your peripheral, you watch the way she stretches out her hand and fingers, massaging the bones and regards you with wide, worried eyes that demand an explanation. Unsure what to say and unprepared to speak at all, you keep your eyes trained on the stage, watching the stage as it goes dark and waiting for the sadness of your loss to creep back in as it always does.

But this time, there is change. This time, you are left with a tangible residue to mark his presence, a sign that your overactive imagination was not alone in its efforts.

This time, instead of the loss and the torment of separation, you focus on the sensation of your wet underwear, a pulsing vibration from inside your core reminding you this was real.

This was real.

The deep flush of your cheeks and the dry skin of your lips is grateful for the chilly night air as you exit the venue after the show. Tonight, the sky of London is clear and black, stars swallowed by the street lights with only the glow of the full moon reminding you there exists a world beyond this, beyond the world you've fallen into with Chanyeol. Breathless, you stand outside and check the time, hands shaking from both adrenaline and memory. This late at night, the tube is still running, but you crave the open expanse of the world, synapses too flooded with desire to handle the closed tunnels of the underground.

Close quarters and tight seats would only make you yearn for the press of his hands and his groin into your lap, the longing to be handled brimming over in the heat of your blood.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Kate asks, the disbelieving nature of her voice breaking your thoughts.

Tearing your eyes away from the sky, you regard her, wide eyed and breathless. Shadows have been carved into her features from the Eventim Apollo marquee sign and the silver glimmers of moonlight, a darkness under her eyes and cheekbones making her look severe and unnerved.

‘What?’ The small, thinness to your voice gives away you know precisely to what she is referring, but you need her to say it.

You need her to say it and to confirm it.

‘You nearly broke my hand during that song.’ Neither angry nor upset, she simply massages her hand in concern, easing the lingering soreness. ‘I know its your favourite, but have some consideration for my joints, yeah?’

Looking down at your feet, your mind empties, mouth giving shape to apologies before your mind can properly form them. ‘Sorry,' you mutter, 'I didn’t realize I was squeezing you so tightly.’

Kate steps closer to you, bending down to study your face with a furrowed brow. ‘You’re all flushed, too. Are you drunk?’

You laugh, but you're not sure why. The sound is a faint whisper of humour carrying with it the turmoil of confusion, sounding, altogether, like you could be drunk. You might be, you think. He makes your skin feel just as edgeless as when you are too many ciders deep and telling London it is your only true, passionate love affair.

‘Maybe?’ you manage, the words little more than a noise of delirium.

‘You only had three ciders,’ she chuckles, yet her eyes remain guarded.

‘Well,’ you shrug, turning in the direction of the night bus. Your feet move of their own accord, not bothering to see if she follows. ‘Nick will do that to you.’

Pulling out her phone to presumably text Baekhyun, she hums in agreement, but still you feel her eyes bore into your back as you walk away, watching and watching, almost certain you might disappear.

You realize you never said goodbye.

The night bus home is difficult.

Normally, you relish this journey, take your time savoring the top level of the bus which somehow always feels reserved for concert goers. This late at night, their voices carry, domed around you as they discuss the show, the highlights, or, conversely, simply not talking at all, choosing instead to relive the show through their headphones. Tonight you join them, settling in an open row of seats next to the window and resting your head against the glass, seeking the refreshing texture in the hopes that it will cool your skin.

Tonight should be no different from all your other post-gig journeys home, excitement palpable in the almost thick heat of the bus and the way there’s a rush of emotion as the bus pulls away from the stop. This is when you’d smile, take your headphones out and play your way through the setlist; other times, you’d eavesdrop on the other conversations, smiling at their reactions and responses, turning inward and tuning out only after you cross the bridge over the Thames and the conversation turns a bit quiet, and a bit personal.

But tonight, the difference is in you - in the way you still cannot shake the feeling of Chanyeol’s strong hands and the thick cream of his voice, the memory of him seeming to overtake the memory of the show altogether.

Headphones wound in your lap, you regard them with a small pout. The ringing in your ears will do you no favors should you listen to any music, but your hesitation to touch and to use them runs deeper than the usual post-gig tinnitus. Even now, you can still feel him, the paradoxically smooth roughness of his palms as they moved over your skin, and the way his voice made you vibrate, trembling into nothingness in the effort of seeking more. Now, the white wires of your headphones pose an element of distrust and betrayal, the ground rules of your connection seeming to change just as soon as you understand them, and you wonder if you’re ready to feel him again, if you could, or if you’ve even stopped.

Turning to glance out the window, London seems to pass in a crystal haze, the lights from the city dotting the river like miniature spotlights, the city still alive and glittering. The vibrancy of London puts a smile on your face, the memory of the last time you rode a bus mixing with the memories of all the times before you’ve looked out at the skyline and wondered who was living, who was dying, and how many stories could be contained beneath just one streetlight. These idle thoughts always compelled you, your love for London and for the heartbeat of the city always overtaking your thoughts once the bus grew quiet.

Now, your imagination has become consumed with a man and the frequency of a voice that haunts you. Staring down at your hands, you study the lines in your skin and wonder what you felt - if you truly were feeling. Already a naturally warm person, the tender hold of his hand in yours put a rush of blood in your fingers, making them appear swollen and pink. And while you could see through and beyond him, as though he were an ephemeral mirage comprised of a longing that reached down into the chasm of your essence, for one moment you swore you could see the pink of his knuckles as he held you, clutching at your bones in an effort to stitch your bodies together.

Tonight, too, the steps up to your door feel endless, walls of the stairway closing in and becoming tight, compressed. Laughter echoes around you, strange for this hour of the night when your neighbors are usually asleep or out even later than you. It doesn’t sound familiar but it doesn’t sound foreign, the richness of the tone giving way to a younger Mr. Kim and a female voice you place as his wife, Aki. How many times had they walked these stairs, holding hands and kissing wrists, laughing and laughing until they silenced one another with kisses that seared against their smiles? How many times had they pressed one another against these walls, pressing fingers to lips to keep quiet only to fall into one another instead?

Were they soulmates, too, long before the world allowed for such a love?

The nostalgia of these unlived experiences burns against your throat, a lump forming that seems out of place and altogether irrational. A missing has taken root within you, deep down and all over again, though this time it is not for Chanyeol but for a future and a past running in beside one another in tandem. Do you miss the idea of youth, spending too much time with Mr. Kim and watching the way time eats at a heart and at a person? Do you miss the connection that comes from bodies? Your last boyfriend was years ago, just before the solar flare, and even then you had stopped connecting long before you called the relationship off. Even when you were together, pressed against one another in bed and sharing breaths, you weren’t really there, heart and mind going elsewhere to find pleasure.

Perhaps, in the end, you simply miss the happiness of coming home to someone, coming home to Chanyeol, or, most likely, coming home at all. Pushing through your door, the silence seems to swallow you, the quietness of your flat unfit for the energy pooling at your fingertips. Home hasn't felt like home for months, not since you first played Neil Diamond on repeat for days. Something about your flat has felt off, right in the ways that are familiar and wrong as thought something terribly important had been lost, or never found at all. Tonight, the quiet of it all eats at you, skin still stinging with the strength of Chanyeol's touch, and you find you need sound to drown out this loneliness.

Stripping off your clothes, the freedom of your removed bra makes you smile, suddenly hyper aware of the curves of your body. Embodied as you are, you find you need music to hold you together, to press against you the way hands should be - the way Chanyeol's hands would.

Solomon Burke's record is torn at the sides, the edges fraying and taped too many times for you to count. It should never have been left in a charity shop, but then, if it hadn't you never would have come to own it. Faded and worn as its sleeve may be, the record still rings clean and true, the pressed black vinyl glossy and glimmering in the low light of your flat. Uncorking a bottle of wine, your lips go numb as your heart begins to race, head tilting to the side in the expectation of a mouth gliding along your neck. The hair on your arms stands on end, the atmosphere suddenly full of static, electric as it kisses against your skin.

The world fades, the familiarity of this comforting and so unlike the illusion of his touch at the concert. In this, you ground, the world around you silenced except for the music and for him.

‘God, I’ve missed you,' you mumble, knowing he can hear you just fine.

Redness spreads across your chest, a flush of embarrassment at your admission painting you pink and pink. Silly, you think, for there was nothing to miss. You're certain he had never left you.

Chanyeol's laugh is low, a thunder roll easily missed if one is not hanging on every sound he makes. ‘I can still feel you,' he says, though the words come together behind a soft, impatient whine. ‘You’re driving me wild.’

‘Speak for yourself,' you snort, watching the wine as you pour it through half lidded eyes. ‘You’re the one that found me, and now I’m wearing you. I didn’t think we’d be able to...do that.’

He hums in agreement, pride evident in the smile you can almost hear him wear. ‘This, too.’

You knit your brows together, corking the bottle as you glance around your flat, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s the first time I’m hearing you without headphones.'

Eyes widening, your gaze lands on the record as it turns and turns, the glimmers of light swirling over the record as it plays. Your headphones, earbuds and studio over-ear alike, are in your bedroom, packed away for their use tomorrow when you'll need them for your commute. Out of habit and the inherent human need for rationality, you look around your flat, feeling him close and hearing his breath as falls in a rushed, excited rhythm. Outside your window, the streetlights take on an otherworldly glow, the fabric of your couches, chairs, and curtains suddenly richer, deeper, your world coloured entirely by his presence.

Overwhelmed, you find all you can manage is the painfully simple, whispered exclamation, 'Oh, my god.'

He moves, that much is evident by the sound of his rustling clothes, and you turn around, looking for his shadow.

‘It’s the clearest you’ve ever been,' he says, sounding pleased. The joy of it, the joy and the shock and the clarity of him is heady, and you reach a hand out, gripping your counter. 'You’re surrounding me.’

Once again, he is not wrong, the sound of his voice seeming to fill the empty corners of your house and mind. Your grip on the counter tightens, joints aching from the effort of keeping still. If he were here, you'd reach for him, pull him to you and kiss him until your lungs hurt from lack of breath. If he were just as needy, maybe he'd place you on the counter top, spilling your wine as his hands massaged bruises into your thighs, leaving marks on your neck for the world to see.

It's shocking, you realize, what the sound of his voice can do. Just one laugh and already he stains the walls.

Swallowing thickly, you take in a long inhale, hoping to clear your mind and focus. ‘So you were at the show.’

It is not a question, just a statement of fact.

Chanyeol's laugh is one of disbelief and one of comfort, an odd mix of emotions you read so easily and find yourself getting drunk on just the same. Glancing down, you see the wine, untouched. ‘It’s so bizarre you just know it,' he says, breathless in his delight. ‘It’s like continuing a conversation we never started.’

‘So you were there tonight?’ you repeat, needing to hear his confirmation and refusing to let yourself run wild with the sheer magnitude of him.

‘Yeah, I was,' he admits. ‘I started feeling like you were there and...I don’t know.’ Chanyeol falls silent, but just as clearly as you can hear him, so too does your mind see him. He blushes, looking down at his hands and standing in the same place as you, sleeveless grey shirt revealing the muscles in his arms as he holds onto the counter. ‘I couldn’t help myself.’

The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears, and while you want to rush forward and talk and talk, for a moment you are speechless.

Chanyeol is in London.

There are no seas separating you.

Tonight, he was at the concert and just as easily as sharing a song, so too can you share the city. This kind of confirmation is worthy of a celebration, a late night phone call or text message to give an address, a number, a cab ride to a doorstep so hands and mouths can finally meet. But you don't mention it or expand on it, biting the side of your tongue in hesitation instead. Blood rushing in your ears interrupts all your fantasies, mouth unsure you're ready for your own admission to make it real.

When it's real, it breaks, and you're still unsure you're ready to be moved beyond the confines of the earth.

Blinking slowly, you ground yourself back in the deep breaths he takes to keep himself calm, and smile. 'I'm glad you didn't.' Once more, your eyes find your wine glass, hand reaching for the stem to swirl it around and around. 'It's been a long time since I've felt someone hold me so close at a concert. You were keeping me warm.'

Almost immediately, he replies. ‘Don’t talk about someone else's hands on you.' It is neither a demand not a command, but a plea. ‘I don’t like picturing it.’

Smirking, you cock your head to the side, the honey sweet drip of arousal running down your spine. ‘Possessive already?’

‘Yes,' comes his quick, unashamed reply. ‘Everyone before doesn’t matter,' he clarifies, eyes falling closed to keep himself calm, 'but I still can’t help it. My hands have been aching all night. I'll never have my fill of you.'

Uncertain how to reply, you simply smile. You smile straight ahead and at nothing at all, knowing that he can feel it. Nothing matters anymore, so long as he can feel it.

‘I wouldn’t have expected you to be there,' he says, words falling quickly in an effort of making the most of your time together. 'There weren’t many women, especially towards the front.’

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, tired of these types of gendered comments men so easily make when it comes to rock music. ‘Then you weren’t looking hard enough.’

Chanyeol, however, acquiesces easily. ‘True,' he affirms. ‘Though, to be fair, I was really only looking for you.’ You both fall into the memory, of the way you found one another in the breadth of a moment, in a setlist, and in the all encompassing ecstasy that comes from live music. ‘That’s my favourite song of his,' Chanyeol shares, sounding almost shy. 'From Her To Eternity is so powerful.'

Something about this makes you feel young, impossibly young and carefree, like your longtime crush has just admitted he likes the same things as you, and therefore it must be destiny. You laugh, feeling yourself go light headed from the force of it, and remind yourself that it is. It is actually destiny.

‘Mine too,' you agree, giggling. ‘It’s funny, people don’t mention that deep cut.’

‘Deep cut?’ he questions, and you have to stop yourself from sighing in deep affection at the image of his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ‘Do you know something I don’t?’

‘No...just…’ Your words die, backtracking from your blanket statement. ‘It doesn’t get chosen very often as a favourite, is all.’

Seeming to realize that your time together is coming short, the end of side A looming closer, Chanyeol changes the subject. ‘I didn’t think I’d find you in this record.’

Humming, you look back at the record, and the torn somewhat bent edges of the sleeve. 'That's true,' you nod at no one in particular. 'It's a hard record to find, which is a shame because Cry To Me is the best part of Dirty Dancing.’

A small noise of uncertainty blooms from Chanyeol's chest, curiosity and interest blending together in one small, magical sound. ‘I don’t know what that is.'

Baffled and overtaken by skepticism, you laugh. Normally, such statements make you roll your eyes in disgust but there is something so wonderfully endearing about his joke you cannot help but smile. ‘That’s literally impossible. You’re such a guy.’

A low, slow rumble quakes in his chest, your eyes falling shut in preparation of the thickness of pleasure you know he is about to adopt. ‘If dirty dancing is what you want…’

‘Don’t start,' you whisper, mind replaying the sound over and over, addicted. ‘You’ve got me drunk on you.’

‘Speak for yourself,' he teases, mirroring your earlier statement.

For a brief moment, you can almost see him. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, his wide eyes look longing through you, hoping to find and touch and hold whatever part of you he can access. Like this, you both fall quiet, looking everywhere and nowhere for one another, and eventually, the shift of the earth on its axis makes your body sway, overcome by your unintentional stillness. Just like you could at the concert, you feel his hand reach for your waist, catching you, and it is this contact that makes you understand the difference between imagination and connection.

Where imagination is distant and feather light, a super imposition of assumption onto expectation, this is is a cosmic wave in which your drown, skin and soul and heart rattled by the impossibility and intensity of him. Neither fictional nor imagined, he is hyper-present and he is cosmic, a sunbeam trick that runs along the endings of your nerves.

‘So, do you like soul music, then?’ he asks, breaking your silence with an anxious tension at the back of his throat. His words are thick, heavy things that weigh against you, and you know he too is struggling to hold himself together.

A slow smile tugs at your lips, a lopsided grin of adoration. ‘I love it,’ you begin, pressing your tongue against your teeth unsure if you should continue. There’s so much on this you want to say, so much you normally give to other people with little passion returned. But he’s your soulmate, and if he’s really yours he will give back in spades. ‘Most days, I think it’s my favourite genre. It’s speaks of human connection in a way that I think other genres just can’t comprehend.’

‘Absolutely,’ he agrees, enthusiasm palpable in every syllable. ‘Their voices are full of the full spectrum of human emotion...it’s like they’ve felt so much more than I ever could. Every lyric is a love letter.’

Silently, you chuckle to yourself, eyes roaming up towards your ceiling in thanks to a God you never really had faith in. ‘Every time I listen to it, especially to an Otis song -’

‘God, I love Otis,’ he interrupts, over eager. ‘Sorry,’ comes his rushed apology, bemused by his excitement. ‘It’s just good to talk about it with someone.’

‘It’s okay.’

You want to reassure him everything he will ever say, every interruption is fine and good and gold, because you want, more than anything, to listen to him speak until the sun goes black. But Chanyeol remains quiet, impatiently waiting for you to continue, and you are so willing to give him absolutely everything he desires.

‘It’s so hard to explain…’ Your words fade, mind struggling to form a sentence that could convey the depth of your emotion. ‘He moves me,’ you finally announce, uncertain anything further needs to be said.

You have said this before. This thought and opinion is not unfamiliar or new. You have said as much to countless other people, people who simply laugh and tell you this thought is incomplete. Movement is born from a moment of pleasure, a spark and release of joy, and rarely is such a feeling understood outside of the moment in which it exists. To everyone else, this thought is illogical - not impossible, just unusual.

But Chanyeol sighs, a long exclamation of understanding, his heart and soul wilting directly into yours, finally witnessed. ‘Yeah?’ he swoons, urging you to continue with the force of his ardor.

Turning, you lean back against the counter, tilting your head upwards as though anticipating a kiss. ‘He was so young,’ you continue, voice small and distant, longing tracing every word on your tongue, ;but the way he spoke and the way he sang…’ You drift, trembling at the sudden sensation of a light touch ghosting along your cheek. You think it might be his nose as he runs it along your skin, breathing you in. ‘His music always feels like he’s lived three lifetimes, and loved, intensely, his way through each of them. I think I’d like to live like that.’

With his hands on you, you don’t even apologize for the slight stutter to your speech, affected.

‘Intensely in love?’ he whispers, and you lean into the sound, wanting.

‘Yeah.’

The sensation shifts to your other cheek, and you tilt your head in the mime of granting permission. Barely there grazes move along the edge of your cheekbone, tickling a phantom of wave of affection in its wake. But he remains silent, expecting and yearning for more.

‘For a long time,’ you manage, voice strained against your tight throat, ‘it was something I thought I’d ever want or need, that feeling of being loved through your humanity and into your spirit. I never thought I’d want it, because it couldn’t exist or, if it did, it was rare enough most of humanity shouldn’t bother trying to find it.’

‘A losing game,’ he clarifies, wistful and longing in his agreement.

Briefly reminded of Amy Winehouse, the distant melody plays in your mind. You wonder if he likes her as much as you. ‘But now -’ you raise your hands, curling your fingers and almost feeling the hard muscles of his hips as you pull him into you, ‘it’s like unlocking a door, you know? Stepping through to the other side and realizing, finally, what everyone had been singing about. I want that...to be loved so intensely, so in love, that it becomes the one thing I never question.’

Drowning in one another, you let yourself be held, body warming to a temperature that makes you crave the refreshment of air conditioning. Your skin is flushed, cheeks and neck and knuckles a reddish pink from both heat and desire, the rhythm of your heart putting a sheen of sweat at your brow. You don’t know when you got so warm, when he became a fire for your hands alone, but you don’t mind. If having him means burning, you don’t ever want to be cooled.

‘I want that, too.’ His forehead rests against yours, the last force of a touch you know is about to fade. ‘I want to give that to you.’

And with that, he is gone. The record stops, apartment quiet enough to make your teeth and ears ache, Side A complete. Normally, you’d whine and let yourself grieve, screaming to yourself that you want it, god how you want that, too, but tonight, for some reason, there is no place for such woe.

Chanyeol is in London.

Chanyeol is in London and now you have both heard and felt and learned him.

Chanyeol is in London.

It won’t be long now.

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