#oof it has been a LONG day and its gonna be an even LONGER week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mieohmy · 4 years

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𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝖲𝖺𝗐 𝖸𝗈𝗎 | 𝖧𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇

PAIRING: huang renjun x temp blind! reader

GENRE: angst (with a happy ending), fluff, humor, strangers-to-lovers, shared dreams! au, soulmate! au, college au

WC: 7.6k

NOTES: reader is temporarily blind, cursing, mentions of a car accident, trauma, slight anxiety and depression, mentions of injuries/hospitals

SUMMARY: dreams are your place where you feel alive -feel like yourself. the only place you can still see. which means you don’t want to share them. not with this random guy who keeps appearing in them, and especially not since he seems so real -almost like he actually exists in the real world outside of your dreams, but that couldn’t be possible... right?

oof this is late- anyways, it’s this beautiful soul’s birthday today <3

hbd to our fairy renjunnie !

Three months. Three months stuck in that space.

And all because of a reckless driver. Like they all say, it happened so fast. A single glance of the road. It seemed clear, the pedestrian sign flashing even.

Then was the rush of a car engine coming closer.

You suppose it was also your fault. Whoever it was that caused a notification to ping on your phone. It was an almost natural instinct to take it out and check.

But you were never able to find out.

One of the scariest things in the world is to wake up and wonder why the world is an empty canvas.

Why you have so many questions that can’t be answered.

Why you can’t see the spring anymore.

The doctors said it was temporary. Some kind of head trauma from the accident caused whatever nerves to swell in your eyes.

And that’s why you could no longer see the day. or night. anything.

“It’ll eventually return to normal, and you’ll be able to see again. Just give it time.”

So why has it been three months and nothing except dark moving shadows and pain?

“I’m sorry, we’re not sure how long it’s gonna last. Let’s just wait and see.”

But how much time did you have to give?

You were sent home in the end. The other injuries were much more minor, and you were just prolonging your stay.

Only because you wanted to know. You wanted to know it would all go away. That it would be okay.

You just so desperately wanted to see once more.

They only gave you ambiguous answers. Answers that only made the scratchy and uncomfortable sensation inside you grow bigger.

And here you were now. Four months after the incident and barely living on your own. Sight not improving in the slightest bit.

You lived separately from your parents, far away because of college. They helped you with all the hospital and stupid complicated health stuff, but there wasn’t much else they could do. There was no choice for them but to work hard and earn money instead of assisting you since bills were shit expensive.

You assured them it was fine, you would learn how to deal with everything.

Friends were a different issue. The thing was, you didn’t have very many considering you just moved to a new school, but the few you did were kind and understanding.

Except you never told them about the incident. Maybe because you were in denial. Maybe cause you were ashamed of yourself for ignoring them and cutting them out of your life. Because they got to see and experience everything they wanted while you were stuck behind.

And then you were truly alone. Alone with the faint light and shadows you were still sort of able to see.

Siri basically became your best friend. You never realized how helpful it could be. Just ask, and it would tell you everything you needed to know.

To be honest, there wasn’t much to do. You weren’t able to attend your classes for the time being, and there wasn’t much you could to do without seeing.

It was hard to adjust to life without your sight. There were a lot of things you couldn’t do without your sight. A lot of things were knocked over. A lot of bruises on your body from bumping into obstacles. That’s probably why you barely went out, only ever leaving your place for necessary resources to live.

This is not permanent. It’ll all go away soon.

You constantly told yourself that, repeating it in the morning. At night before you went to bed. But deep inside, you knew the real reason for everything. The denial, stubbornness.

The answer was clear.

Fear.

The fear of a permanent life without being able to fully experience the world.

The fear of what your life would become without having the chance to achieve all your dreams and goals.

You knew you should be grateful. For being able to see from birth until now. You survived your accident with mostly minor injuries. Occasionally, you would get intense migraines- one where you could barely move- but you truly didn’t want to go back to that place to get it checked. You didn’t even want to leave your home.

At least you could still move and function properly for the most part.

But it didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.

There was one thing. When your eyes closed for the day- when everything was okay.

Because there was no need to feel any emotions asleep.

But also because of the dreams. Mainly because of the dreams.

It wasn’t every day. You would absolutely love to dream every night, but if you did, then something must not be right.

The power to dream and be able to recall everything in the world before you lost it all would be your one wish if anyone asked.

Sure, you could just close your eyes and remember whatever you wanted, but it wasn’t the same.

Dreams were like a story. A story you wanted to read. And you could only do it because of your memories.

Thank the universe for memories. Ones that allowed you to still remember and see again in dreams.

They were the one thing connecting you to the real world.

The weird thing is, sometimes you would dream and be able to choose what you wanted to say and do. It was just like playing a fun game where you could do whatever you wished.

But it didn’t always happen. it only occurred on occasion. Why? You had no clue.

But even so, you’ve never had a stranger appear in one of your dreams before.

ꔫ

You couldn’t recall everything that happened in last night’s dream, but when you woke up, a strange face was the only image stuck in your brain.

You’re sure you’ve never seen him before.

Can brains make up random faces? Or maybe you just made up a fictional character because of loneliness?

Either way, he’s the only thing you can clearly remember.

Your eyes flick open, and it’s the same nothingness.

But his face lingers. Pretty and delicate eyes. Brown hair that flutters in the wind and a gentle smile that sucks you in.

Who are you?

Whoever this person was, you hope to dream about him again.

ꔫ

And he does show up a few weeks later. Or has it been a month? You were really losing track of the days, especially now more than ever.

This time, the image of him is stronger in your head, burning into your skull.

And you curse yourself for not remembering any more than his face.

You rack your brain, trying your best to just think.

Why do some people forget their dreams immediately when they wake up? When it feels like you’re just in one, but your mind starts up again for the day, and the dream vanishes just like that?

You so desperately want to know.

You can faintly remember images of a grassy meadow? Flowers? You don't recall any field that you’ve been to, but maybe it’s just somewhere you’ve forgotten about... Perhaps your mind just made your dream to be located there.

As you get up for the day, you still wish to dream about him. A dream where you can fully control yourself and find this imaginary character you created in your head. Whoever he is.

ꔫ

And the world grants you that one wish.

It’s been a while since you last dreamed. But of course, you never forgot him.

The setting sun is the first thing that catches your attention.

Immediately, you smile, standing up and brushing yourself off.

The place is faintly familiar, a beach. You know which one. The one your parents used to take you when you were little.

It looks exactly the same as you remember, but this was the first time you’ve ever dreamed about this specific place before.

Then sounds of footsteps approaching make you look up.

It’s him.

The fictional character somehow procured from basically nowhere.

What’s strange is that you didn’t even notice how the two of you were now sitting by the shore, watching the waves flow in and out.

What’s even stranger is that you don’t question it, and neither does he.

But you do take the chance to look at him, admiring his face.

“What’s your name?”

He looks startled like he never expected you to speak.

“Oh. Uh, R-Renjun.”

“Renjun,” you pronounce. The name feels unfamiliar on your tongue.

Now how did your mind come up with a unique name like that?

You shrug, letting the dream continue on its own.

But wait, you realize, if you were able to ask and think your own thoughts not according to the dream’s... that means you can control this-

Your eyes snap open. You can see nothing. And feel an oncoming headache.

Damn it.

ꔫ

You want to know why you’re so curious about this ‘character’. Why you want to see him over and over again without ever getting bored.

It’s just a dream. Or, several dreams that he’s appeared in by now.

That could be it, you suppose.

You usually didn’t have about the same person, or in your case, the same ‘character’ appear in your dream three times in a row.

But for some reason, you appreciated having your own imaginary friend in your dreams.

He wasn’t a real person. He wasn’t someone you had to watch out for. You could act however you wanted to him and he probably wouldn’t care.

Wait-no, you correct yourself. He has a name. A name that seems so far but so close at the same time.

Renjun.

You go to sleep chanting his name in your head over and over again.

ꔫ

“Wait... Renjun!”

A satisfied grin appears on your face from having remembered his name.

You stroll along the forest path, an unfamiliar one that you don’t particularly remember ever going to, but you shrug it off and continue towards him.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him, not having dreamed for a while.

His eyes widen, taking you in. “Whoa. You’re here again?”

You frown. “Um... yes? It’s nice to see you.”

Renjun nods hesitantly. “You too, uh....”

“Y/n!” you beam. You’re not sure why you’re so happy to see him, but any company is still company, so no complaining.

Since you figured you were able to control yourself in this dream, might as well take the opportunity.

If your brain was able to give him a name and a *cough* pretty *cough* face, he must have a personality. And what better than to get to know ‘renjun’ while you still had dreams about him?

“Do you want to walk together?”

He shrugs.

And since it’s your dream, right? you start on the path, knowing he’s gonna follow you anyways.

You reach an opening overlooking some city. It’s unfamiliar, but the sight is too pretty you don’t think much of it.

You can’t take your eyes away, the view one you’ve never seen before. One that wasn’t from your memories, and it almost blinds you. Especially since you haven’t been able to experience anything new in a while because of... everything at the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“It is,” Renjun agrees.

Why is it so natural for you to sit next to him, get along with him?

“I haven’t been able to go out like this for a while, so it’s a lot to take in at once.”

He glances at you.

“Really? Why?”

Suddenly the air feels tightening.

“Um. Health stuff. I guess.”

Renjun nods. “That’s understandable. But going out might be good for you. It’s nice to get a little fresh air every once in a while.”

His words hit differently. It rings inside of you, making you sit up.

“You’re right, Renjun. I should go out more.” Your voice is quiet but smooth.

Suddenly, he laughs. It’s a beautiful sound flowing out in a beautiful place.

“I say that, but honestly, I’m also holed up inside all day. I need to go out more too.”

You don’t get what he means by that- why does it matter to a non-existent person how often they go outside?- but the feeling of just being here is incredible. You can’t waste your time in this dream pondering on pointless thoughts.

“You should take advantage of it. You never know what could happen one day. Never take things for granted.” You finish, voice suddenly serious.

He looks surprised. “Oh. I suppose you’re right. Thanks, y/n.”

Instead of responding, you sit back on the ground, looking at the dream -but still beautiful- sky.

Your hand pats around for a second before landing on its target. Your fingers wrap around renjun's, pulling him back so he plops down next to you with a grunt.

“Geez, could’ve given a warning.”

“There’s no need for warnings here,” you sigh.

Sure, the clouds aren’t real, but you’ll take any chance to see something you can’t in reality anymore.

“Y/n,” he starts.

And when you turn to look at him, his face is a lot closer than you thought.

There’s a pause.

The last things you remember are his long fluttering eyelashes and alluring brown eyes- ones that look so realistic and strangely familiar?

That morning, you wake up with the scent of the woods still lingering in the air and a little more ease in your heart.

ꔫ

Over the next couple of months, Renjun keeps appearing. And you’re completely fine, even delighted with that.

Now you’re always excited to go to bed, hoping each night that you’ll dream about him.

Even as the days get hotter and your a/c is definitely getting overused, you find yourself thinking about him and imagining if he was next to you.

You had to keep reminding yourself that Renjun wasn’t real. No matter how much you wished he was.

But you still considered Renjun your friend. Technically, your only friend.

And each time you met in your dreams, you felt happier and more content. You felt alive next to him, your heart that always beat faster around him only confirming it.

Sometimes you’d spot Renjun in a place from your memories, and sometimes he would appear in a completely unfamiliar area to you.

You didn’t care enough to think twice. A new place with new sights was a highlight to your encounters.

And today, it was no different. A colorful park. You know you’ve never been here before, but it feels like you’ve seen it somewhere..... perhaps somewhere online?

Ever since the second time you met him, you noticed a theme with the unknown places you sometimes ended up in.

Mostly in nature, surrounded by fresh air and plentiful green. You were confused, but I mean, who cares? They were beautiful, peaceful. Places that made you forget everything.

You find Renjun sitting down at a nearby bench, messing with his hands.

“Hi.”

He looks up, attempting to smile, but it falls short. “Hello, y/n.”

That’s interesting. Renjun always seemed happy to see you. At this point, you can tell when he’s acting strange or not.

You decide to play along. “What’s up?”

“Oh. It’s nothing. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff.” You cock an eyebrow, amused. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt weird when he says something like that.

“You know, for being an imaginary character, you sure act like a real person.”

“What did you just say?” Renjun stands up.

You follow, getting up and looking at him, confused. “What?”

“What the hell do you mean by imaginary?”

“Imaginary? You don’t exist -like you’re not real?”

“No way.”

Your eyebrows raise. Why was he getting so defensive over this?

“I’m not an imaginary character- you are.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What the fuck?

“Stop talking nonsense.” Even though you’re trying to stand your ground, you can’t help but reevaluate everything. You look at him, panicked but still staring straight into his eyes as if to say, stop the joking right now.

Renjun only stares at you, fighting back with a headstrong expression. “I’m not. So you should stop too.”

You place your hand on his arm, inhaling.

Renjun tries to pull away, bewildered, but you keep your grip.

His arm feels warm, veins partially showing through. Almost like a real.....no way. But there’s even a faint scar on his wrist. Your brain couldn’t possibly be so meticulous as to add such details to a fictional person.

Your eyes flick to Renjun, studying him, memorizing everything you can about him.

Your breathing is heavy as you step closer to him, almost in a daze. “If you’re not just an imaginary person I created in my dreams,” you whisper, watching as he swallows and his adam’s apple bobs up and down-

“Then who are you?”

But before he can say anything, the world fades to black.

You wake up with an immense urge to scream in frustration but also hide away to just think everything over.

You lay in bed for what feels like hours. Contemplating. Panicking.

This was a joke, wasn’t it?

He’s lying.

Just a dream?

But this time, you can’t say that it was “just a dream..”

Your hand punches the bed in defeat.

You don’t understand. How are you able to see another living and breathing human in your dreams?

All the things and places you were able to dream about were because of your memories. But Renjun... Renjun was a complete stranger.

So how are you able to see him perfectly fine?

You think back to all the previous times you met him.

If he truly was real, then he must’ve been dreaming too? Since he believed you weren’t real either?

And all the unrecognizable places you saw -they must exist in real life?

That means.... you and Renjun must be sharing dreams.

There were a lot of questions. All that were making your brain pound.

More importantly, how the fuck are you even able to share dreams with another person?

ꔫ

You spend every night praying that you’ll fall asleep and see Renjun again.

Renjun? Is that even his real name?

Oh my god, you don’t know anything about him.

But for some reason, it isn’t hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that he exists.

His reaction seemed so real -he couldn’t possibly be faking right?

You smack your head on the pillow. Many times. Repeating, “Go to sleep. Dream. Go to sleep,” over and over again.

Until eventually, you do.

And when you find yourself at your old middle school- gross- you immediately start.

Getting up, you navigate throughout the old place. Everywhere’s blurry and hazy though, you suppose it’s because you haven’t been here in a while and forgot.

Where is he? You know he has to be here somewhere.

You spot his familiar silhouette. Target acquired.

He must’ve felt your presence too, since he turns around to face you.

You’re about to say his name, but then you remember the whole ‘he’s actually a real person thing’ and then you can only splutter out an accusing “you!” with an accompanying point of a finger.

“Me?” His eyes widen. “No-you’re not supposed to be a real person. So who are you?”

“I’m y/n.” You repeat yourself again with more force.

“This is my dream, and you’re in it. Look,” you gesture around. “This is my old school. If I wasn’t real, could we be here at a place like this?”

Renjun falters, and you exhale. “I’m not joking. I swear. My name is y/l/n y/n.”

He holds his hands out. “B-but how? How can you-?”

You shake your head wearily. “I don’t know. I don’t even know you!”

He sighs in defeat. “My name is Renjun. Huang Renjun. And I promise I’m not joking either. I truly thought you were just a figment of my imagination.”

You nod, fidgeting before holding out a hand. “Well then, I believe you. Nice to meet you,” you look into his glittering eyes, “Huang Renjun.”

When his hand touches yours, you feel a rush of emotions.

You think he does too, judging by his tightening grip on yours.

He quickly takes his hand away, making you frown. “And just to prove it, you know the forest we were at once?”

You nod, recalling the pretty leaves. You haven’t seen leaves in a while.....

“It’s near my city in the real world. And that mountain too.”

Then it hits you. You glance up at Renjun, surprised.

“No way. I know where you’re talking about. You live like, a couple of hours away from me.”

“Wait, really? Where do you-“

You sit up, feeling the familiar sensation of a blanket around your legs.

And then let out a loud screech of frustration - while also internally apologizing to your neighbors.

ꔫ

When you meet Renjun in the next dream, you pick off where you left off, and move into telling each other about your actual lives.

“You study plants? That explains why we’re always near grass in your dreams.”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking. It’s really nice. I like it more than you may think..”

“Seriously,” you look up from your position on his lap, “savor it while you can.”

He nods dutifully. To others, it may seem annoying or strange that you’re constantly telling him to enjoy when he still has the time, but Renjun appreciates it.

It’s always a nice reminder.

He assumes something must’ve happened to you before, but nevertheless, he doesn’t pry.

“What about you? What are you studying?”

Suddenly, you can’t look at him. You're unable to tell him that you don’t even attend school anymore.

“Um, I’m still deciding... it’s hard, you know?”

“I get it. Comfortably take your time. You don’t have to rush, do what you want.”

Your heart warms.

“Can you cook?”

“Eh.”

“What about roller skating?”

“I’m a pro.”

“Bet I could beat you.”

“Oh yeah? Just wait, one day we’ll go together in person, and I’ll kill you at it.”

“What about aliens?”

Your eyebrows raise. “What about aliens?”

“What- what do you think of them?”

“Oh. Aliens are cool.”

“Do you think they’re real?

“Sure. I mean, if we’re able to share dreams like this, then why can’t aliens exist too?”

You miss the growing smile on renjun’s face.

“.... is this what you really look like in real life?”

“What- yes! Why would I look like someone else in my dream?”

“I dunno, you’re a lot more handsome than most guys I can remember..” you trail off, hoping he doesn’t catch the rest of the sentence. He does.

That goes on for a while, asking each other random questions. But while you’re still here in the dream, you should take advantage of it.

Standing up, you brush yourself off.

“Huh, what’s up y/n?”

“The sky.”

Renjun scowls.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

And then you sprint off, yelling, “first one to the tree gets bragging rights!!”

Renjun falls halfway, and you have to help him and his dramatic ass.

ꔫ

When Renjun brings up the prospect of possibly meeting each other in real life, you’re both really excited at first.

But then it hits you. That’s right. You’re kinda blind at the moment.

You never once told him about your... sight problems, probably because you first thought he wasn’t even a real person, and it never seemed important.

As Renjun sits there, excitedly listing off ways to find each other that actually while you’re awake, you can only absentmindedly nod, a storm brewing inside you.

It makes your insides churn. Should you tell him?

You hated lying, but there was that growing insecurity rising up.

What if he finds out everything and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore?

What if Renjun doesn’t want to be your friend?

What if...

He leaves you?

“Y/n???” He waves a hand in front of you.

You blink. “Yes?”

“I was just talking about how it’ll take around 3 hours to take the subway to your city or, yours to mine. When we both have a free day, we should meet up!”

He looks so excited and cute, but you still cringe. When was the last time you took the subway?

You nod uneasily. Renjun must notice your expression because he turns concerned, “Are you alright?”

You hastily smile. “Fine. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff,” you joke.

That answer must be good enough because he drops the subject.

What have you gotten yourself into?

ꔫ

And for the first time, you’re scared to dream.

Scared to see Renjun.

Stress and anxiety gnaw at your head, swirling thoughts constantly floating in and out.

Renjun won’t like you anymore.

He doesn’t want to be with a liar.

And after he excitedly mentions that he obtained an internship near your city in the spring, your guilt and frustration grow more.

Since that one conversation, you’ve been having more and more headaches, most likely because of the lack of sleep from stress.

Renjun’s probably sleeping peacefully hours away from you as you stay up, plagued with concerns.

You shake your head, wanting to get rid of bad thoughts so the pain doesn’t overtake your brain again.

Think of happy things. Happy memories when you were young and carefree.

Like.... the one water park you went to with your friends years ago. That was a good memory.

You rack your brain.

Wait a second -what did it look like again?

ꔫ

As the air turns colder, you have to bust out the old heater that hasn’t been used in years-the dust floating in the air lingered for days.

Overtaking your breathing, your brain.

Just like your thoughts.

You’re still constantly worrying about Renjun. Because of Renjun.

And yourself.

You and Renjun.

Renjun and you.

All those thoughts weren’t good for you. Why you may ask?

More thoughts lead to overthinking.

Overthinking leads to stress.

Stress causes the agonizing headaches.

And those headaches are the bane of your existence.

Because it makes you unable to recall.

The headaches weren’t a big deal at first. After the car accident, the doctors said your brain seemed clear for the most part.

But obviously- it wasn’t- since you were here now with daily migraines- the pain multiplied from anxiety.

And that caused your memory loss.

It was simple things at first, just like what you ate for the day and where you put your stuff. (It was already difficult since you couldn’t see, and the forgetful memory was making it so much worse)

And then it was the more important recollections.

Like what your parents' birthdays were. Your favorite restaurant. What schools you attended.

You don’t want to admit that the only thing left perfectly clear in your brain is yours truly, Huang Renjun.

This isn’t happening.

Pigs can’t fly and.... you can’t remember.

Why? Every time you try to think of something, your brain pounds like crazy.

You really don’t want to believe it’s an effect of the accident. And the stress.

You don’t want to think about it at all.

But sadly, you were still human and had to sleep.

Which meant eventually dreaming sooner or later...

“Y/n!”

Wait. What?

“What’s going on?”

No. What’s happening?

“I know people don’t dream that often, but three months and nothing from you? I went to bed, happy at the thought that we might meet again, but it’s like you’re purposely not sleeping and avoiding me or something-!”

There’s no way you heard everything he just said, even his irritated tone that you’ve never heard before didn’t faze you.

Due to the fact that everything except Renjun himself was a blur.

Basically- you couldn’t see shit.

Your heart rate begins to pick up. You swirl around, squinting and rubbing your eyes like crazy.

Why? Why is this happening? Why can’t you see the dream world around you?

But you know the reason- it’s quite obvious.

Since your memory disappeared just like that. And without your memories, everything has crumbled to nothing.

Ironically, you forgot about Renjun who was still standing there, perfectly fine.

“Y/n? What wrong?”

He snaps a finger in front of you, and you barely react.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Your voice has been reduced to a whisper.

“Listen-I-why are you lying? I thought we were friends. I thought we trusted each other enough to talk honestly.”

It’s too much. Renjun’s growing anger plus everything you’re experiencing at the moment is overwhelming.

“Just stop-!” You screech, arms held out in front to protect yourself from everything.

He freezes.

And you collapse on the ground, hands shaking as you look around. Look for anything you can clearly see.

There’s nothing.

The worst pain ever runs through your brain- the feeling to curl up in a ball and stop everything is strong.

“Y/n- please. Please talk to me.”

He leans in front of you.

“I- see-“ you splutter, collecting your thoughts.

Your mouth forms the words but immediately comes to a halt.

He doesn’t know.

You stare at him, helpless. Your eyes flicking all over the place, pupils dilated.

Renjun does the only thing he can think of at the moment.

He places his lips on yours, and your eyes automatically close.

Your heart steadies, adrenaline slowly fading.

He just feels... right.

And then his hand brings your body closer to his, making-

You sit up in bed, breathing heavily.

All you can think is,

what a dream.

And as much as you still feel the ghost of his soft lips on yours, you can’t get over the fact that everything else was blurry.

You could only see faint lights and shadows.

You couldn’t remember.

ꔫ

No.

What does the sky look like again?

No.

Why can’t you remember the day anymore?

You spend days- weeks maybe even- trying to recall as much as possible. And spend less time attempting to sleep for the chance that you’ll have to see Renjun again.

Your mind is in shambles. One part of you is yearning to see him -find Renjun in the dreams again and explain everything.

But the other part is scared. Extremely terrified at his reaction. His feelings.

Will he still- you dare to say- like you?

I mean, that kiss had to mean something, right?

Right?

You smack the nearest object in exasperation.

I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

Can everything just stop?

Your poor pillow has been punched into oblivion by now.

Either way, you fall into what could be considered a slump.

A slump in life.

The uncomfortable sensation grows bigger and bigger each day since the only thing you can do is stay at home and dwell on the fact that your life is basically over now.

There's no recovery in sight -ha- of your future.

Each night is spent exerting your aching brain to recall.

The only thing that comes back is Huang Renjun.

But once again, you’re only human. A human that occasionally passes out from the lack of sleep.

Renjun would be nagging at you. Your heart automatically drops at the thought of him. How long has it been since you last seen him?

More importantly- how long has it been since you last properly slept?

You can’t even see yourself but you know the eye bags you’re carrying are bigger and brighter than your future.

You call out for Siri.

“It’s currently 3:21 AM.“

You sigh, so desperately wanting to chuck your phone across the room even though you know finding where you threw it would take hours.

Pathetic.

And then you figured you must’ve fallen asleep.

Because you open your eyes. And at first, it just seems like another day of barely making it through life, but no- this is different.

You’re not in your bed. You’re on a blank, hard surface.

You realize where you are right as a familiar voice calls out your name.

The fear that courses through you is a feeling to laugh at.

“What the fuck, y/n.”

There’s no way you’re getting out of this.

“What’s going on? I just wanna know why. You ghost me for months without saying anything. I deserve an explanation.” Renjun’s fists are clenched at his side, anger barely seeping through.

You sigh wearily, partly from him and partly from the fact that you still can’t see anything else except his face.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been going through stuff, okay?” You hope your tone is enough to tell him that you don’t want to talk about this anymore.

But it isn’t.

“What things? You can tell me, y/n. I thought we were close enough for that. I thought we trusted each other.”

As much as your heart clenches at his words, it isn’t enough to suppress the frustration building inside you.

“This isn’t about trust, Renjun. It doesn’t matter if I trust you or not. What does it have to do with me telling you about my life? It’s my privacy.”

His eyes burn into yours.

“So you don’t trust me?”

“What- of course, I do! Why are you so stuck up on that?”

“Cause I care about you,” he groans, running his hands through his hair. “I care about you- a lot- but clearly, you don’t seem to return the feelings!”

“What? What makes you think that!?”

“Because you act like this!” He forcefully gestures. “Because you push me away without any explanation and don’t show any sign of your feelings! Don’t seem affected like I am when I haven’t seen you in months and miss you, okay?”

You pinch your nose bridge, annoyed. “Well, I’m different. If you cared about me that much, wouldn’t you have noticed?”

You know your words mean nothing. They’re just randomly produced from the deepest, darkest insecurities that are pent up inside and need to escape.

“What’s so different about you? As far as I’ve known and seen you, you’re just another human like me-“

“-Because I can’t see fucking anything, okay?” You yell, forcing yourself to take a breath.

“I’ve been blind for what seems like forever, and at first it was all okay, but now I can’t remember anything except you, which means I can’t see shit. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

You feel your body trembling, barely able to look at him.

A good silence lasts for a couple of minutes.

You turn around, anywhere away so you don’t have to look at his face anymore- since he’s stupidly the only thing you can even see.

You don’t know what to feel. Perhaps relief for finally saying it? Exhaustion from keeping everything pent up and finally letting it all out?

Then you recognize the sensation.

You’re waking up.

You think Renjun calls your name at the exact moment. But it’s too late. You’re already gone at that point.

And now you don’t know what to do.

ꔫ

After that, you get the best sleep in your life. There’s surprisingly no more stress about lying to Renjun, you already spilled everything.

On the other hand, there is his whole response. But you bury those worries deep inside.

Maybe it’s for the better, you think. After the fight, you couldn’t the guilt go. The angered lies that slipped from your lips won’t leave.

Renjun doesn’t deserve someone like you.

But for once, you decide to go out. To get some needed fresh air like someone once advised you to, and also because you’re running out of food to eat.

Before you leave, you grab the sunglasses on the counter and put them on. Most people would just think you’re avoiding the spring sun, which is exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t want them to see your blank stare and then realize that you had lost your sight. It was simply more comfortable for you and others.

It was always a challenge to go out. Strange how normal people would never think twice before closing the door behind them and entering the outside world, but it became something you had to prepare yourself for.

Taking a deep breath, you close the door behind you and navigate as best as you can to the nearby cafe.

Sure, you barely left your place, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy a refreshing drink outside every once in a while.

Two people bump into your side, and you barely spare them a second, continuing on.

An apology is given, but you brush it off, hiding your face and quickly continuing on.

That’s strange. One of the voices sounded really familiar, but it was too quick, and you barely heard the voice enough to pinpoint it.

It happened all the time- if not always- running into another person. But this time, it was different. After touching the stranger's shoulder by accident, it felt like a flame burst inside of you. Intense enough to make your head spin a little and set your body alight.

And the sun wasn’t making it better.

Gosh, why is the sun so bright today?

You brush it off, opening the door to the cafe and taking your sunglasses off to be polite and not seem weird or suspicious.

You squint at the board, cautiously walking to the register and ordering.

After they confirm your order, you find a nice spot alone in the corner.

It’s not too busy or slow today, you note. But soon boredom overcomes you, and eventually, you find yourself staring at the entrance door whenever someone new enters for no reason in particular.

The entrance bell rings, and your eyes subconsciously flick to see who it is.

Wait.

No fucking way.

It can’t be.

Huang Renjun?

in your city?

Entering the same cafe you were currently at?

You suddenly remember. One dream, a long time ago when he excitedly rambled on about that internship he got. Located where you lived. That’s right, he said it was in the springtime. And here he was now.

A string of curses run through your brain, your heart beginning to pick up its pace in panic.

You debate just leaving. But your order..... oh god, what if he sees you?

Will he recognize you? Stupid, obviously Renjun would recognize you.

What if he comes up to you?

Shit, you have no clue what to do.

Maybe if you just look away and hide your face when he passes, then he won’t see you.

You look down, pretending to be occupied with your shirt and shuddering when you hear his voice get closer.

You let out a tiny sigh of relief when he passes with someone else, you suppose a friend. But it’s not over.

“Order for y/n!”

You unleash more curses internally. Of course, they had to call your name. Of fucking course.

You desperately hope Renjun isn’t paying attention.

Exhaling, you try to act as normal as possible walking up to get your drink. But before you even make it there, you can feel eyes on you. It burns the back of your head.

You scream into your mouth, teeth gritting to barely muffle the sound.

It’s okay, just pretend you can’t see him -you already yelled at him confessing that you were blind anyway, so maybe he thinks that you can’t see him.

It’s fine.

Act normal.

You obtain your order and take one step carefully at a time.

Oh no.

Oh no- he’s coming towards you. You can just barely see in your peripheral view Renjun approaching and getting closer.

“Y/n.”

You try not to stiffen at his voice. Just act like you’re blind and can’t see him.

Turning around, you pretend to act blank. “Yes? Who’s talking to me?”

“Y/n,” Renjun says more insistently.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”

And then his hand reaches out to yours.

You panic, swatting it away.

You hear renjun's breath hitch. “Wait- how did you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Y-you,” he stutters, “you blocked my hand. B-but how? I don’t-“

You frown. “Cause I saw it?”

Your hand raises up to cover your mouth.

You saw his hand.

You can see.

What- when did this happen?

How did this happen?

Why didn’t you notice?

There are so many things swirling in your mind, but Renjun calls your name again.

You look back at him, truly look at him, and suddenly it’s like all the puzzle pieces fit together.

He’s breathtaking. It’s so different seeing him in person and not in your dreams. If anything, you’re jealous of how much prettier he seems in real life.

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. Seeing those eyes that once captivated your soul right in front of you.

“The last time I saw you was in my dream,” you breathe, “but it feels like the first time I’m meeting you.”

Renjun doesn’t say anything, and abruptly you find yourself in his arms.

You don’t care that you’re hugging in the middle of a public place, it just feels so right.

You bury your face in his shoulder, unable to speak.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was just so afraid at what you'd say, and I just liked you too much and I’m sorry-“

Renjun pulls back, staring at you like he hasn’t seen anything more magnificent before.

“It doesn’t matter. You can tell me everything you want now.”

ꔫ

“I’m happy to report that the swelling in your optic nerves has gone down. It’s like a miracle occurred,” the doctor remarks.

Luckily, renjun’s internship lasted for a couple weeks, and you were able to spend as much time as possible with him. The only time you weren’t next to his side was when he was working or you were at the doctor's to check up on your condition.

There was no more blankness. There were no more headaches. It’s like Renjun brought a breath of fresh air into your life. It’s almost like he was meant for you.

You simply smile and laugh at the doctor as you think,

Yes, a miracle did happen. One where I met the person who seemed only like a dream and learned the most important lesson in my life.

That dreams really can come true.

Bonus :

“Renjun, you’re going the wrong way.”

“Well excuse me for not having ever been to this place before.”

“Okay, you’re excused.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, and you grin cheekily before taking his hand.

“C’mon, we still have to get to the top.”

“Did you get the blankets?”

“Yep.”

“And the snacks?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got your favorite.”

It’s been so long since you came here. Your favorite spot to stargaze. The one you went to all the time before the accident. The one you were going to when the car accident happened.

But this time it was different. You had Renjun next to you.

After ten minutes of hiking and Renjun complaining, you finally make it to the top of the secluded hill, the night sky seeming so close and yet so far.

Renjun takes everything in with a breath. “Wow. I can see why you love this place.”

You feel a rush of emotions. How long has it been since you were able to come here and see the stars?

You two set up the blankets and sit back, embracing the sight.

He sits down on the blanket, and you automatically lie down next to him, placing your head in his lap.

“Doesn’t this remind of you that one dream where we saw your city from above?”

Renjun grins. “I remember that. I still thought that you were just a fake simulation or whatever. And now look, we’re together in real life.”

You hum thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Renjun.”

He looks down at you. “For what?”

Suddenly you can’t look him in the eye. “For everything. For being my friend and never leaving,” you gulp, nervous.

“I... I love you.”

Renjun jerks a little, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”

You breathe in, out. “I love you, huang renjun.”

He starts laughing for some reason, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I love you too.”

After that, you enjoy the peaceful silence and the buzz of the insects.

“...don’t you think this would be a hotspot for aliens to come to? This field is so vast and secluded -if I were an alien, I would come here a lot.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. But I guess I would too.”

Renjun suddenly looks at you with an accusing glare. And you catch on, smacking his side.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay sure. You totally weren’t gonna say something about how I could be an extraterrestrial creature from another planet since I come here so often.”

“Well-”

You stuff food in his mouth to shut him up.

He chews for a minute or two before talking again.

“.... what if we get abducted by them?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I’ve been here so many times, and nothing happened to me.”

“Maybe that’s because you are a-“

“Oh my gosh. Just stop. And trust me, if I were one, you would already be abducted with that face,” you joke.

You look up from your spot on his lap, staring up at the twinkling lights in the dark sky.

“It doesn't matter, I’m not scared.”

Renjun looks down at you with a curious smile. “Why?”

“Because everything got a little better when I saw you.”

And the stars seem to agree, twinkling in the background when your lips reach up to meet his.

You had so many questions that couldn’t be answered.

But maybe it would all be okay.

Because you could suddenly see the spring again.

a/n: if you made it to the end, thank you for reading :)

also i tried my best to research as much as i could on all related topics to this work yadaddaa but if there are errors and inaccuracies, i apologize!

taglist: @elcie-chxn @dearseungie

unable to tag: @flower-lise

#cznnet #kpopscape #nct #nct dream #huang renjun #renjun #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #huang renjun x reader #renjun scenarios #huang renjun scenarios #renjun imagines #huang renjun imagines #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renjun fluff #renjun angst

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akumaalert · 3 years

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Snippet of “Awake” - First Chapter of “Divergence”

Hey, all! Wanted to share a snippet of the first chapter (”Awake”) of “Divergence” - a fic that will offshoot from “Heavy Metal Lover.” Note that this is basically a whole spoiler for chapter 20 of “Heavy Metal Lover.” If you’re like me and see random stuff saying “Don’t click if you haven’t read...” and click anyway: Hi! Welcome, chaos lover. If you like this and want to know the context, please feel free to check out the full work on AO3.

“Divergence” should be posted within two weeks and will be open to requests for the reader (”Lucky”) to have different experiences than what she has in the original. This can mean the following:

- AUs

- Re-tellings of certain scenes of the original

- Reader-specific details included in old or new/original scenes (i.e., reader is plus sized, skinny, tall, short, etc.)

- Genderbending of any of the characters

Originally made this Tumblr to share snippets of the stories on...so happy that I could finally do that! If you want to skip writing that was in the story, you can start at “Though sleep pulled at your eyelids...”

Story contains mature elements, swearing, and explicit mention of sex. Please be forewarned.

Looking back, it would only be a wonder that it did not occur sooner.

As soon as you were alone in the bedroom, you took off your shoes and eyed the clothes Heisenberg had provided you from the factory...

...before turning to the tub.

Couldn't hurt to bathe. Love to be clean.

That man is coming back up to this bedroom.

This is the point, self.

The logical side of your brain, for once, remained quiet.

Though you had clearly lost all sense of sensibility, you at least moved the divider to completely block the tub from any but the most determined of views.

The water had been scalding when you got in.

By the time you had bathed and decided that your foolishness had reached its limit, it was stark cold.

"This was stupid," you said. "Fucking stupid. What did I want? Him to join me? This is the universe saying 'Wake the fuck up.'"

Though your fingers were pruned, you dried yourself off and pulled a nightgown from the small cupboard beneath the sink.

Sheer as ever. Fuck's sake. The universe had truly saved you.

Until it hadn't.

Heisenberg rushed into the room like a rocket and you jumped as the door slammed close.

"...you here, Luck?"

"Yeah," you called out. "Um...don't come over here...gotta get dressed real quick."

"...k" called Heisenberg.

Wasting no time, you slid the gown over your body and made sure to fan out the edges as far as they would go.

You needed no mirror to see your nipples proudly displayed through the fabric.

Mouthing a 'fuck' for good measure, you frowned.

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you mind looking away for a second?"

"From you?"

"Yes."

"...are...are you coming out naked?"

"No," you snapped.

An awkward silence greeted you.

"Heisenberg?"

"Huh?"

"You looking away?"

"Oh. Yeah. You're good now."

Peeking from behind the divider, you only saw Heisenberg's back.

With more speed than you were familiar with, you bolted to the bed and ducked under the covers.

Once secure beneath the pillowy softness, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay. It’s safe."

You did not miss how Heisenberg whirled around.

"Oh...fuck...that was fast."

"Yeah," you said absently.

"Trying to set a fucking record?"

"Something like that."

"Mmn. I...gotta get changed."

"Okay."

The two of you stared at the other.

"You trying to get a free show or you gonna cover those peepers?"

"...I figured you would go behind the divider."

"The divider is on your side of the bed."

"Oh," you said dumbly. "Oh. Yeah...wait."

Yanking the pillow from underneath your head, you smashed it onto your face above your mouth and pressed down.

Heisenberg chuckled. "Dramatic as hell."

"Doing what you asked of me."

"...didn't formally ask you to...did I?"

Swallowing found your throat on fire.

"Mmn."

"What was that?"

"Mmn," you repeated.

"Heh...don't go into public speaking, kid."

You frowned at the ceiling and the darkness of your eyes.

Instead of speaking, Heisenberg decided to tell you he was done by climbing in the bed beside you. It struck you suddenly that lamps had been placed in the room instead of the candles that the castle was so beset with. But when you removed your pillow, you found yourself met by more muted darkness.

"Sure you okay with this?" asked Heisenberg. "I can fuck off and go into another room. I like to bitch like a drama king, but I don't need anything crazy set up for me."

"Bed is pretty big," you said carelessly. "S'okay. We've been closer."

The chuckle Heisenberg gave was absolutely filthy.

"We have...haven't we?"

The fucking lilt would be the death of you. What a relief it was to blink blindly and stupidly at the man in peace without judgment.

"Hey - last time I'm reminding you...what's your one job?"

"Get you out in the morning," you replied.

"Because?"

"Ah...generators...production line...something about a reset..."

"That's my girl. Nighty night, Luck."

"Night, Heis."

A turn. A breath. A feeling that you would never be able to sleep with the man so close that you could feel his body heat radiating from him like a welcome sign.

But you awoke.

You awoke often.

You awoke in the middle of the night from a dream you could barely recall and all the images of Alcina at the forefront of your mind.

You awoke in Heisenberg's arms and sobbed into his chest as he clung you to him just as sweetly as any of your snowy imaginings.

"Fuck you doing awake? No...shh...it's okay...shh...you're alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Though sleep pulled at your eyelids, you nudged your head up to feel the spikes of Heisenberg's scruff. You had to stay awake. Could not return to sleep and Alcina awaiting you with her long talons and even longer legs.

"Nightmare?"

You nodded into his neck.

"Mmn. Have those myself...think you can go back to sleep? Don't think it's quite time for me to leave yet if you just wanna yak about it or something."

Swallowing, you exhaled. "Don't wanna go back to sleep."

With a grunt, Heisenberg sat up to leave you curled on the sheets.

"Just checking the time..."

When Heisenberg turned to pull something from the floor, you noticed that your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. Enough so that you saw the loose movements of his arms and realized that he had gone to bed without a shirt.

"Fuck...two in the morning..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tensing. But Heisenberg was mumbling and coming back to you with open arms. "Sorry I woke you..."

"S'alright," he said, yawning afterward. "Gotten less sleep and done more stupid things after than make sure the reset doesn't fuck up the factory..."

As he spoke, you could feel one of his hands rubbing up and down your arm a bit too roughly. An awkward and well intended move to comfort you.

"Still...I'm sorry...you need all the sleep you can manage to get. I don't know how much work the whole factory thing will be..."

"Honestly not much as long as I get back in time," he said, hand squeezing your arm for good measure before returning to that same rough rubbing motion. "Could probably even come back here afterwards...heh...that would spook that sixty-foot snake."

You laughed a sleepy laugh and settled further into his grasp.

"Mmn...like a fucking little bunny...cuddling into me and shit..."

"I can stop...pull away..."

Heisenberg's hand stopped rubbing you in favor of clutching you to him.

"Shh...you're talking nonsense. Need some sleep."

"Heis..."

"Shhh..."

"Heis, you can just tell me that you like it when we cuddle."

When he tsked and laid his chin on your head, you smiled. It felt so much like that day at the stronghold.

"Why would I say that? Not in the business of lying to people."

Lying...yes...because what we are doing now is causing you so much distress...

"Well," you said, smiling. "I'll say it then. I like it when we cuddle. Especially in bed. Feels more comfy than cuddling in front of the lycans."

A shiver - as though Heisenberg had been beset by the cold - ran through his body.

"Oof...y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said absently. "Uh...actually...we might wanna go to sleep after all..."

"Mmn?"

"Yeah...early morning..."

"You mind if I hold onto you for a while? This...this actually helps from the nightmare."

The only way you knew how to describe Heisenberg in that moment was jittery. His movements were fine on their own but were conducted with such awkward quickness as to be alarming.

When he did not answer you, you looked up at him through the dark.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

A beat of silence and then another.

"Nothing's wrong." Quick words to match his quick movement.

"Heisenberg..."

"It's Heis."

"...you...Heis...something isn't right. Just talk to me. In English, preferably."

What you could only assume was a curse in German fell from his lips.

"I...fuck's sake, buttercup...I don't know how to...if you...this was such a bad idea...so fucking STUPID."

"What?" You paused, gathering enough evidence from his huff. "Sleeping together?"

"Yes."

"It was your idea."

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT, OKAY?" he hissed. "Just...I thought...earlier...it made more sense...this made more sense..."

"Glad something did because I am completely and utterly confused," you admitted.

"You're confused? You started flirting with me." Heisenberg grumbled something low and rough. "Fucking gave me ideas...false hope...so I thought...guh I'm such a fucking idiot..."

Hope began to fuel you too. Fuel you and feed into the most terrible of terrific ideas.

"Are you...whatever you're trying to say...I was flirting with you. That wasn't false. Honestly...I was in the bathtub just moments before you came in hoping you would join me."

"...you what now?"

You could not help but laugh. The fact that you could not see Heisenberg's expressive face only added to the hilarity as you imagined a hundred different emotions running through that scarred skin.

"I took a bath...a long one...hoping that you would come up here in the middle of it and offer to join me...figured one thing could lead into another and the bed was here anyway..."

The pauses in between Heisenberg's voice could only endear you to him. He seemed every bit lost for words.

"You...are you talking about...what are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with you," you supplied with a shrug. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping...you...ah...I wasn't...I wasn't mistaken? Shit...I...I may or may not have a fucking stiffy over here...because the cuddling is...something you enjoy so much."

"Oh?" you purred. The chance of escaping in the delights of Heisenberg’s body made your body positively teem with anticipation. But you could not forget your own actions...the last time you had seen him in such a vulnerable state. Losing some confidence, you glanced at the darkness of the bed instead of his body. "Umm...I want to touch you...want to...would it be okay if I touched you?"

"Yeah...course. You've touched me before."

"No...I mean...is it...fuck...can I jack you off?"

For a long while, Heisenberg said nothing.

The next thing you heard was a rattling spit.

"OUCH GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Pinched myself."

"You...why are you pinching yourself?"

"Because I'm clearly fucking awake but clearly dreaming at the same time because yes, I would enjoy that very much. Please. And thank you."

"Are...are you sure?"

Heisenberg's hand came down heavy but without malice on your neck.

"OW!"

"Shit...I was trying to grab your hand."

Providing your hand to his, you hitched a breath when he splayed it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against your palm. Wrenching your knees upward, you brushed against that heated length between his legs.

"I...um...we should probably talk about boundaries before I do this."

"Huh?"

"Is this...are you okay with me just jacking you off?"

"Just? This is a goddamn holiday. Marking it on the calendar. Nothing little about it."

"Dumbass. That's not what I'm saying," you said, scratching his chest somewhat affectionately to show him that you meant no harm. "Do you...are you wanting anything more? Because I'm on my period...I'm up for it...but it might get messy and I know that's the last mess I want a certain someone finding."

"We...we can do more? More like..." You heard him take in a shaky inhale. "Can we...is like full blown intercourse on the table?"

"Sure...long as you don't call it that again," you said, shaking your head.

Grumbling and tensing his shoulders, Heisenberg whined when you dropped your touch to round one of his nipples.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to call it?"

"Sex. Fucking. Making love," you added jokingly. "Um...ah...you know...I hadn't thought about it, but maybe you genuinely didn't know. German to English...or...ah...Romanian to English. Might not have those words."

"I like making love," he said with certainty in his voice. "Let's do that. Make love."

You had expected him to laugh at that suggestion if he acknowledged it at all. But there he was giddy and practically giggling over the most flowery option he was given.

"Okay...are there any places that you don't like being touched?"

"Not that I know of," he admitted. "Are there...is there somewhere I shouldn't touch you?"

"Not necessarily...just...no going down on me this time. Sex is one thing-"

"Making love."

"-us um...us making love is fine, but I don't want to get eaten out while my period is going on. And don't show me your dick after or comment on the blood...just...get rid of it. Please. And...and nothing too crazy to start out with. I'm not a prude, but don't want to be choked or anything harsh like that. Just...vanilla for our first go. Then we can see where things take us."

"Roger that! Heard loud and clear," he said, leaning his face to kiss your forehead. For all the lack of a relationship, Heisenberg was making you feel far much more mushy and cared for than your ex ever had. You let your hand round his stomach slow and soft in response.

"Thank you. We...if you want to, I'll jack you off for a bit before you grab the condom."

"The...I don't have one of those."

That made you freeze.

"Not even in this room? Your chambers? If you don't feel like getting up, I can grab them from wherever they are."

Heisenberg went uncharacteristically quiet.

"Heis?"

"None in this room," he said plainly.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable by asking...but...is that typical? You having sex without a condom?"

It worried you. Here you were all too willing to have him fuck you into the mattress while he could be having all sorts of unprotected sex with who knows who in the village. He was attractive - a lord. Anyone with a pair of eyes could easily fall in lust if not love with him.

Anyone with ears too...fucking sexy ringmaster voice...

"Not typical, no."

"No? Has it just...been a while?"

"Never."

"Huh?"

"Never made love before."

That sent you sitting up in bed.

"WHAT?"

"What?"

"HEISEN..." you lowered your voice, realizing he was growing tense. "You've never...I don't believe you. Quit joking. Not the time."

"Not joking," he grumbled. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You're just..."

"I'm what?"

"You're you," you said as if it clarified anything at all. "You're a lord in a small town. You have a face of a model. Not...not trying to open old wounds, but you're absolutely gorgeous underneath all those layers..."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Fatass McGee will be strutting the runways any day now."

"Oh my god...you're serious." Lying back down, you brought your hand to the clothed length between his legs. He had grown noticeably more soft since the brush of your knee, but you could feel his cock twitch when you cupped him. "So...no one? Not even foreplay or...what about kissing?"

"...ahhh...nah...none of that either...you're probably the first person to see me naked since I was a little kid...well...maybe a few folks in Constantinople. Got sloshed one time and woke up naked tied to a lamppost. But...other than that...all you."

There seemed to be no end to the surprises that would fall from Heisenberg's mouth. You stared at him - or the inky shadow that was him - and ran teasing fingers up his shaft.

"I uhh...fuck...I'm pretty sure anyone who saw me then is dead by now though," he supplied.

"Heis...you're so fucking ridiculous."

#heavy metal lover #divergence #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

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Happiest Season Of All

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Rating: M, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Happy Holidays! Phew, it’s been a while. Here is a kind of drabble, and also kind of a sequel to Pain In My Heart? Set the year before S1, there’s no mentions of family, no use of Y/N, and it’s just a gentle, kind of angsty little story.

This story contains broken hearts, swearing, alcohol and embarrassment.

I hope you enjoy and have a lovely week!

Summary: Broken up with just before Christmas? Fantastic. The only thing that can help is returning to your home town, old friends... and an old love.

Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

—

23rd December 1982

‘... There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and carolling out in the snow...’

You quietly hum along absent-mindedly to the cassette someone’s playing from a boombox, gazing out of the window. Usually, you’d have been annoyed but, hey, it’s the holidays.

Besides, you haven’t had much of a chance to get into the festive spirit or mood recently. With the classic Christmas song playing, the train rumbling gently and the twinkling lights in the darkness slowly growing brighter, you’re finally starting to feel it. Inhaling a breath, you lean your temple against the cold glass, your fingers lacing together in your lap as you gaze at the lights.

Hawkins, Indiana. Your hometown.

It’s been a few years since you were here for longer than a weekend but, oh, boy, this year you just need to be here. You’re retreating, you’re not too proud to admit, coming home to lick your wounds and be surrounded by all things familiar, cosy and boring.

You almost laugh. You’d left this place because it was so damn boring and now here you are, craving it. If teenage you could see you now. She’d be giving ‘that’ look which you’re told you still give to this day.

Ah, well. Time’s a bitch, baby.

The train slows as it pulls into the station and you start to gather your things while a few others around you stand and pull their bags down from the overhead racks. You pull your suitcases down as the train comes to a stop, all three of them, with their different colours and patterns. Pulling on your scarf, coat and rucksack, you haul the suitcases down the aisle as best as you can single-file, muttering under your breath as they catch every few steps against chairs.

The wheels clatter onto the concrete of the cold platform when you step down, one suitcase twisting onto its front and tangling with the others as it nearly falls from your hand. Muttering under your breath again, you right it and continue walking down the platform, two small groups of people reuniting having to part for you. Making eye contact with a grateful smile, you’re relieved you don’t recognise any of them; you’re really not in the mood for your own reunion right now.

“There she is!”

Well, just the one.

A smile spreads across your face as Karen Wheeler trots down the platform in her heeled boots, grinning and her arms open wide. The suitcases drop from your hands as you throw your arms around one another, rocking from side to side slightly.

“Oooh, hello, sweetheart,” Karen murmurs, pressing a big, wet kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Karrie.”

Your smile lingers, and it’s the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. Karen has worn the same perfume since high school and it puts you at ease instantly. God, you just love her. You talk on the phone every other week and have done since you moved out of Hawkins; she’s been the most consistent friend in your life and you love her with all your damn heart.

“C’mon, give me those, let’s get out of here, it’s freezing...” Pulling back, she takes two of the suitcases from you before you can protest and starts striding down the platform.

You have to do a quick little jog to catch up with her, marvelling, not for the first or even fortieth time, how she can go so quickly in those heels. It’s a short walk to the exit, made shorter by Karen’s pace, and she’s parked right outside. Wonderful. Opening the trunk, you both bundle your suitcases in, tossing your rucksack on top of it, and then do a speedy little walk to the doors, yanking them open.

“Oof, coldest winter we’ve had in years,” Karen shivers dramatically in her seat as she rubs her gloved hands together before buckling her seatbelt.

Buckling your own as she eases out onto the road, you blow out a breath. “Yeah, definitely feels that way.”

“So, how was the journey?”

“Oh, the usual, long but fine. It was a lot emptier than I expected.”

“Well, we keep hearing there’s gonna be a blizzard, so some folks have come home a little earlier.”

“Well, that’s smart.”

“Yeah. Means I keep bumping into people at the store that I wish I could avoid, though, and on the street.” She snorts as she glances at you. “Ugh, I bumped into Peggy Dawnes the other day, remember her? She would not stop talking about her perfect life on her perfect farm with her perfect husband and her perfect kids and her perfect lawn. Well, there were ten bottles of wine in her cart and I know for a fact her mother doesn’t drink and her perfect husband only likes neat whisky, so, there.”

“Oh.”

You cringe internally at your short reply, but you really can’t think of what else to say. Karen glances at you again, pausing. You look over at her and find the sympathy you’ve only been able to hear during the last few weeks. She reaches over and pats your knee gently before returning her hand to the wheel.

“Oh, sweetheart... How are you doing?”

You release a breath, raising your eyebrows slightly. “Better for being here, already. But, y’know...”

She gives you a sympathetic smile as she pats your knee again. “Don’t worry, toots, like I said you can stay as long as you want, it’s no trouble at all.”

You return her smile, relieved that you find you don’t have to force it. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Her smile widens as she tilts her head. "The kids are looking forward to having you with us, you know how much they love you. It’ll do us all some good.”

You don’t ask about Ted because you know not to.

“I can’t wait to see them, too. How have they been?”

You gaze out of the windshield as she tells you how Nancy and Mike are doing at school and how many words Holly can say now, your eyes flitting from house to house. Decorations are out in full force, as they should be, they’ve probably been up since the 1st of the month, and it makes you smile to see them, remembering how you and Karen would go from house to house when you were younger and rate them out of 10 candy canes.

Ah, the simple life.

She’s still chatting about Mike and his friends when she turns down onto their long drive. It’s lined with various Christmas lawn ornaments, most lit up. Lights line the inside of some of the many windows of the house, too, making it look gorgeous and cosy and warm. A curtain is yanked back suddenly and Mike’s face appears, grinning. He waves frantically and you smile instantly, waving back with your eyebrows raised.

My favourite, funny little kid.

He’s already at the wide open door when Karen parks, still grinning. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you open the door and step out only to have him nearly slam into you before you can straighten, hugging you tightly.

“You’re here!”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as fiercely. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

“Yeah. C’mon, I wanna show you this book I got...” He’s already out of your arms and waving you towards the door, which Karen is muttering about the heat being let out of.

Chuckling to yourself, you help her with your suitcases and rucksack, feeling vastly different to how you did ten minutes ago; they never fail to raise your spirits. Nancy greets you as you enter, smiling widely and also ready for a hug. You give it gladly and just as fiercely as you had with Mike, asking her how she is. She shrugs and just says “Fine,” with a smile as you remove your shoes and coat, and you marvel at how she’d once been as talkative as Mike when she was younger. You hear the boy himself calling from the basement, telling you he can’t currently find the book but it’s around here someone and you’re gonna love it! You follow Karen up the stairs to the guest room with a wide smile, calling back your thanks to him.

Passing walls lined with family photographs, it’s a short walk down the hall to the room you’ll be staying in for... well, who knows. Karen opens the door with a trilled, “Ta-da!” and you laugh as you take in the sight before you. It’s completely decked out in Christmas decorations; tinsel on every bit of furniture, snow-globes on the window sill, a polar bear stuffed toy on the bed, fairy-lights around the headboard. You’d roll your eyes at the excessiveness of it if it wasn’t so damn sweet.

“Wow, it’s like Santa’s Grotto in here...”

“Eh, close enough, I wanted fake snow on the ground but Ted vetoed that idea pretty quick.”

You snort, hauling the suitcase you’re carrying onto the bench at the end of the bed and dropping your rucksack onto it before sitting on the bed, your fingers running over the blanket Karen’s mother had crocheted. Nancy lingers in the doorway, and after leaning your other suitcases against a chest of drawers, Karen turns to her, making a shooing gesture.

“All right, go on, Nance, us hot young things need to get ready.”

“Ugh, Mom...” Nancy just about manages to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she turns away and heads back down the hall while you stare at Karen.

“Uh... Ready for what? Bed?”

“No,” Karen laughs, and you suddenly notice she’s going through your suitcase on the bench, rifling through and pulling various items out. “We’re going out, to the bar.”

“The bar?”

“Yes, the bar.”

You’re still staring at her. “Where everyone we know goes?”

Karen shrugs, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s still the only good bar in Hawkins.”

“I thought you wanted to avoid everyone.”

“Eh, yeah, but... y’know, only good bar in Hawkins. And...” Oh, no, she’s looking sheepish, her head bowing slightly as she glances from you to some of your clothes she’s pulled out. “... Uh, we’re kinda having a party here tomorrow, anyway, so...”

“What?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, her hands raising. “It just kinda happened. It’s been years since we’ve had one and Ted and I were talking about it and then I saw Mary-Lou at Mike’s school and I just happened to mention it and she got so excited and then I got excited and it just, it suddenly happened.”

Your lips press together as you exhale a short breath. “Well, they were fun...”

“Yeah, they were, weren’t they?” Karen sits beside you with a nostalgic sigh, shaking her head. “We had some of the best times of our lives at ‘em.”

“Yeah... I remember the one after you gave birth to Nancy, I thought I was gonna have to take you to the hospital.”

“Ha! Thank God my Mom came over to look after her. What about the one where you set fire to the tree?”

“Oh, please don’t remind me, and that wasn’t actually my fault, you know,”

“Ha, yeah, sure, that was great...”

You both sigh together, a smile finding its way onto your lips at all the memories that come flooding back. They had been fun. You hadn’t been able to attend every one over the years but the ones you had had been so great they’d almost made you want to stay in Hawkins. Maybe... Maybe a return to a beloved tradition is exactly what you need.

Turning your head to her, you arch an eyebrow. “You didn’t think to tell me it was happening, though?”

Karen shrugs as she smiles. “I didn’t want you to talk yourself out of enjoying it before it had even happened. Same as tonight.”

“Oh, Karrie...” You huff out a breath. “... You know me too well, it’s so annoying. Ugh, I was so looking forward to just curling up on the couch, drinking and watching some of the classics.”

“I know.” She pats your knee, nudging her shoulder against yours. “And we’re gonna do that the day after Christmas, and every day that you want to while you’re here. But tonight, we’re gonna get fancy and go out and get a little bit drunk. It’s Christmas, c’moooon.”

You just can’t help but smile. “All right. All right! Fine. How long have I got?”

“An hour.”

“What—”

She’s already on her feet, pointing at you as she heads to the door. “Take a shower while I cook us and the kids something up, and then we’ll get ready. okay?”

You know you have absolutely no choice in the matter. “Okay, fine.”

“Great!” she beams, reaching for the door handle to close it behind herself. She pauses, though, resting her weight on one foot as she clears her throat. “Oh, and uh... he’s probably gonna be there.”

You don’t have to ask who she’s referring to.

Staring at her, you manage to keep your features expressionless. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” She’s watching you carefully, teeth grazing over her lower lip. “He is nearly every night, apparently, according to Marian.”

Raising your eyebrows slightly, you smile. “Well... maybe he won’t be.”

“Yeah, maybe he won’t be...” She’s still watching you, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. “Shower, toots.”

“Okay, okay...” You wave your hand as she pulls the door closed, hearing her move down the hallway.

The moment you hear her heading down the stairs, you release a long breath, lying back on the bed.

Oh, shit...

Well.

You stare at the ceiling as the realisation suddenly dawns on you.

I might see Jim Hopper tonight.

James Hopper. Jim. Hopper. Hop. Chief, also now, not that you’ve ever been around to call him that.

You’d been friends since you were kids, best friends actually, at one point closer than you and Karen had been, and then feelings had developed when you'd become teenagers and then you’d taken the leap and had started dating and then...

You’d broken up.

And you’d been the one to initiate it.

And you’d done that because, well... It was because of a lot of little things. Mainly, though, you hadn’t known what route you wanted to take, college or work, you hadn’t even known what you wanted to do, but you knew you wanted to get out of Hawkins. And Hop... hadn’t known what the hell he wanted to do either, but he hadn’t even thought about it. He’d spoken once or twice about joining the military, or just starting a job, too. College hadn’t even crossed his mind. The conversation had come up and, well, it hadn’t ended well.

In fact, when it ended, that has been the last time you’ve spoken to him. As you’ve returned home over the years you’ve heard he did join the military, fought in Vietnam, came home, married, and lived in New York the same time you had. You’d been heartbroken to hear from Karen that his daughter had died, and he’d divorced and moved back home.

Now, he’s Chief of Hawkins Police and, well, you’d love to avoid seeing him at all costs. There can come a time when, having not seen someone in decades, you can’t even have a casual conversation because all both parties are doing is screaming in their heads.

Well. Like you’d said yourself. He might not be there.

Hey, as Chief of Police this is probably a very busy time of year and he’ll be off doing something.

It’s gonna be fine.

Absolutely fine.

After showering, you throw on some clean, comfy clothes and head downstairs to eat with Karen and the kids.

Holly sits at the table in her highchair, silent as ever, well, being two years old she only knows a handful of words, but she just stares at you as she has done since she was a baby. Mike talks non-stop about school and his friends while Nancy chimes in every now and then to talk about her own friends, saying names of people in her class that you take a moment or two to remember, and to mutter insults at him while he mutters them back.

Karen half-heartedly tells them to stop in between telling you what she might wear, and you somehow manage to keep up with all conversations. Frankly, it’s also quite nice after being surrounded by mostly silence for the last few weeks.

Whipping your plate away from you seconds after you finish, Karen is up and striding to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder.

“C’mon! Let’s get sexy!”

Your lips twitch as Mike and Nancy groan, the only thing they can agree on right now being that their Mom is a complete and utter embarrassment.

She practically shoves you up the stairs, trying to get you to move faster, and from then on the next 30 minutes feels like a whirlwind. She tries on six outfits before settling on her usual favourite, and changes in your room while you rifle through what you’ve brought. Luckily, even though you can’t really remember packing, you’ve brought some of your own favourites, and, after scrambling to find some shoes to go with them, she helps you decide on an old classic.

Gazing at you, her hands on her hips, she beams with delight.

“Well, look at you, huh! Fancy lady!”

You give a twirl as she whoops, and then her arm is looping through yours and she’s practically dragging you towards the door.

“Bye, guys, we’ll be back late!” she calls out, though no one answers, too busy doing their own thing.

You haven’t seen any sign of Ted and, once again, you know not to ask.

“Late? How late is late?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as she hurries you down the stairs.

“Oh, come on, not that late, we’re not gonna get wasted, we’re not teenagers anymore.”

—

“... God, I hate it...”

The stall door slams against the cubicle wall as you pull it open a little more forcefully than you had intended. Holding it for a moment, you exhale a short breath before moving towards the sinks, only swaying a little. Washing your hands, you glance up at Karen, watching her try to reapply her lipstick as neatly as possible.

“And did you hear Julian is engaged? And Andrea has a new boyfriend? Is it me or is everybody getting into a relationship?”

She snorts, rubbing her lips together. “It’s that time of year, folks hate being lonely at Christmas.”

You scoff, turning the tap off and drying your hands. “Just sleep with people, then, doesn’t mean you have to get into a relationship and hog someone all to yourself.”

She laughs, slipping her lipstick back into her bag before turning to you, a hand on her hip. “Oh, babe... C’mon, let’s find you someone to have meaningless sex with it.”

“Okay.”

The bar has been heaving from the moment you’d arrived. It usually is, but tonight the place is rammed, perhaps because of the time of year, but maybe more because, it turns out, there’s an offer on drinks, it being the holiday season and all, and happy hour has lasted more than one hour. More than two. It’s nearing three now.

Each sip has helped you relax, even as Karen gasps and points out old high school classmates, filling you in on every detail of their lives she’s learned. So far, incredibly gladly, she’s not pointed out a certain Chief.

Returning to your table, which a guy you don’t recognise has been guarding for you, as in literally guarding, he has his hands behind his back and is saying, “Nah, move along, this ain’t free...” to anyone who looks like they’re going to swoop in. At spotting you both, he grins and holds his arms out wide, gesturing at the table.

“All free for you, m’ladies.”

You’re unable to stop a smile because there’s something so weirdly charming about this absolute goofball of a man. He takes a seat beside Karen as you sit, the two of them having been exchanging small talk that verged on flirting. Heck, it was flirting. Sipping from your drink as you watch them, you feel a small, familiar twist in your stomach.

Karen is more like her teenage self when she’s with you, but when you see her with Ted, no longer Teddy as he had been in high school, and the kids, she’s Karen the mom, like she’s caged her personality in and doesn’t quite know how to bring the two parts of herself together. When she’d come to visit you once last year, you’d gone out to a bar and you’d watched her flirt with a couple of the men there. You’d thought it was harmless at first, just a bit of fun for her, she’s a charismatic lady, but then something had changed and, as a guy had held her hand, stroking it, and she hadn’t pulled away, you’d felt a twist in your stomach.

She’s gonna have an affair one day.

The thought had come to you so suddenly and so sharply that you’d shoved it away with all your might, horrified with yourself. No, Karen wouldn’t do that... Would she? Since then, you’d become more and more unsure. You’ve stopped asking about Ted when you talk because she’d just sigh heavily and spend the next ten minutes pointing out every flaw he has, how the romance has gone, how she’s tried and nothing happens. You know she’s unhappy, but you just can’t see her doing it. You hope not, anyway.

Looking away from them, you watch a few people dancing, Christmas music flowing out of the speakers above.

Karen laughs at something the guy says, and in the corner of your eye you see her place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, that’s too funny! You’re really funny... Sorry, what’s your name again?”

The man is unfazed, still grinning. “Callahan. Phil Callahan.”

He says it with such an atrocious Sean Connery accent, making Karen burst out laughing again, and it makes you smile, too.

“Oh, big James Bond fan, huh?” she says, her elbow on the table, chin in her hand.

“Oh, yeah, it’s why I became a cop.”

Your gaze darts to him. “You’re a cop?”

He raises his hands as he laughs. “Yeah, but, hey, you go on and drink as much as you want, I’m off duty now.”

Karen laughs and you make yourself join in, but your heart has started to beat a little faster.

Oh, stop it, he’s not here.

You take a quick sip of your drink again to cover the fact you aren’t laughing anymore, and then Callahan looks up, his grin widening somehow as he waves his hand frantically.

“Hey, boss, over here!”

Boss?

Boss.

The entire room seems to slow down as you turn your head and see a man, who’s stopped for a moment to shake hands with someone, with brown hair and a neatly clipped beard, wearing a brown leather jacket, plaid shirt and jeans, his eyebrows raised—

Oh, God.

Oh, shit.

Oh fucking Lord in the manger.

Callahan is slapping his hand against the vacant seat at the table, that happens to be close to you, practically shouting, “Hop’, here, saved ya a seat!”

You swiftly turn back around, staring at Karen. She’s frozen, staring at you, and for the next three seconds you somehow communicate an entire conversation with just your eyebrows and eyes.

Both of you seem to agree on fuuuuuuck.

You can’t just get up and leave, that would be the most obvious thing in the entire world. What if he doesn’t recognise you? Yeah, maybe you’ll be so incredibly fucking lucky and it’ll be a Christmas miracle and you’ll somehow have just disappeared from his memory.

Swallowing hard as you hear him move past a group behind you with an “Excuse me,” you rest your hands on the table, gripping them together.

“Hey, Callahan, where’s everybody else?”

Oh, his voice has changed. It’s deeper, rougher.

“Oh, well, Powell said he and his wife are gonna come later when he finishes his shift, and Jones, Davids and Williamson are over there, they’ve been waitin’ to get a drink for ages.” Callahan laughs delightedly, and Karen joins in, giving a slightly nervous one.

It draws Hopper’s attention and you don’t dare look up to see his expression but there’s a note of surprise in his tone.

“Karen, hey, you doin’ okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” And then she panics. “We’re just having a night out.” And then she panics more when she realises what she’s said, and that she’s gestured at you, her eyes as wide as her now somewhat manic smile.

Oh. God.

Lifting your head, you automatically smile, your features frozen.

“Hi.”

Hi.

He looks from Karen to you, and you’re suddenly subject to the full force of Jim Hopper’s gaze for the first time in decades.

Oh. God.

You can’t help it; the memories of the last time you saw him flood your mind.

“Hop’, are you even listening to me?”

He swiftly puts down the ball of rubberbands he’d been picking at on your desk, his eyebrows raised as he looks to you.

“Yeah, yeah, course I am.”

Your own eyebrows rise even higher, your hands lifted. “What, then?”

He tilts his head slightly, grazing his teeth over his lower lip. “’What’, what?”

“You weren’t fucking listening—”

“No, I was,” he quickly says at your weary sigh, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees, an easy smile pulling at his lips. “C’mon, just repeat the last part.”

You’d once found this all charming and endearing.

Your hands going to your waist, you exhale another breath before folding your arms, managing to calm yourself.

“What are you gonna do after school?”

Hop’ shrugs, leaning back again. “I don’t know. What are you gonna do?”

It was just the answer you’d feared, and expected. Licking your lips, you glance down at the carpet before steeling yourself and meeting his gaze again.

You can do this.

“I’m thinking of moving.”

He nods, his smile returning. “Okay, where?”

“I don’t know. New York, maybe. There’s jobs there and I have a friend there, I could stay with her for a bit.”

“Or we could get a place together.”

You stare at him, feeling your stomach twist.

“So... you’re, you’re just gonna follow me where I go.”

“Yeah.” His brow dips slightly, the smile still there, though it’s hesitant. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to be happy when their boyfriends say that?”

“Yeah, but... What do you want to do?”

Hop’ shrugs again. “I don’t know. I know I wanna be with you, though.”

You’d once have quietly swooned at that and given him a fond smile. Now, though... You want more.

“Hop’, I don’t... I don’t wanna be one of those high school couples that just sticks together because they’re together. I want you to actually want this.”

He’s frowning again, confusion starting to set in. “I do.”

You say it quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

He stares at you, all traces of his smile gone. Then, he scoffs, leaning back in his chair a little more as he folds his arms.

“So now you’re tellin’ me what I do and don’t feel?”

“No, I just, I want you to have some drive, some ambition, not just go along with what I say and do.”

“I go along with it because it’s what I want.”

You can feel tears stinging at your eyes but your mind has also been made up.

“I don’t think it is, I just think it’s easy and safe for you.”

“Stop tellin’ me what I’m feelin’!”

His voice raising makes yours, too.

“Am I wrong?”

He looks at you like he has no idea who you are, and for some reason that really pisses you off because you don’t really recognise him anymore, either.

“Why are you pushing me away?!”

“I’m not, I—”

“Where has all this come from, then?!”

“I don’t know if I want this!”

Silence falls.

You swallow thickly as he stares at you, your voice cracking slightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but... y’know, Karrie and Teddy, they... I look at them and at Joyce and Lonnie and they’re so happy, they know what they want, and they can’t wait to get married and settled down, here, but...”

“You don’t want that,” he finishes for you, quietly.

You speak after a moment, your tone matching his. “I don’t.”

“You don’t want me.”

That sends a knife through your heart because honestly? You have no idea.

Shaking your head, you close your eyes for a moment. “No, yes, I... I don’t know. I care so much about you, but... I just think we’re on different paths.”

His gaze drops as your words linger in the air. Clearing his throat, he glances up at you again.

“What if we just take a break, for a bit. Or I can come up and visit you, in New York.”

He’s just a boy, you suddenly think, your heart breaking.

Biting at your lower lip to stop it from trembling, you give a small shrug. “I think that wouldn’t be fair on us both.”

He nods slowly, his jaw moving, and you’ve never seen him this distant. Raising his eyebrows slightly, he stands.

“Seems you already had this all figured out.”

“No, no, I didn’t, I just don’t want to be unfair to you—”

“Could I have said anything that would have changed your mind?” His quiet words silence you, and you have to stifle a sob.

“... No.”

Hop gazes at you, and after several moments he nods. “Good luck with everything.”

You’d burst into tears the moment he’d left your room. The front door had slammed shut and as you’d sat on your bed and cried and cried you’d heard his car door slam, too. You’d cried for days, going between telling yourself you’d made a huge mistake, and then that you’d done what was best, that he didn’t appreciate you like he used to and it wasn’t your job to fix him and coach him through life and that... yeah, you’d fallen out of love with him.

You hadn’t just lost a boyfriend that day, though, you’d also lost your best friend.

You loved Karen but there was just something different about Hop’, something that made you feel safe and like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge. As you’d moved away and the months had gone on, several triumphs and bad days had happened, and all you’d wanted to do was just pick up the phone to call him and tell him. You’d stopped yourself every time.

Then, at some unremarkable point, you’d just stopped getting that urge, and life had moved on.

Oh, it certainly had moved on.

You stare at him, trying to look without looking. You can still see the face of the teenager you once knew, though with the beard and the lines at the corners of his eyes he’s very much a man now.

God, is he a man.

He was tall when you’d known him, but is he taller now, somehow? Had he had another growth spurt in his twenties? His hands are huge, too, and he’d been confident back then but it had come from cockiness whereas now he just seems quietly so, more sure of himself.

And you have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. He’s staring at you so expressionlessly that you believe for a moment or two he actually has forgotten you.

Then, he speaks

“Hey. Been a long time.”

Hey. Been. A. Long. Time.

Said like you didn’t once whisper “I love you” to each other and share every single secret you’d ever had.

Then again, all you’d been able to muster up was a ‘Hi’.

You’re still smiling and you don’t know how to stop.

“Yeah, it has.”

“How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, you?”

“Yeah, good. You home for the holidays?”

“Yep.”

He runs his fingers over his mouth as he nods, and oh my God, he’s attractive. Is he, or is it the alcohol?

Wanting to banish the thoughts from your mind and distract yourself, you quickly continue.

“I’m staying with Karen.”

“That’s nice.” It’s said absolutely expressionlessly. “Just ‘till the new year?”

“Uhm, indefinitely. I’m, I’m working, uh, going through, uh, I’m moving, at the moment.”

“Okay. Well, I hope it goes okay.”

Oh my God, he’s winding down the conversation. He’s gonna go.

And you’re still smiling.

“Thank you.”

Nodding, he glances at Callahan. “I’m gonna go and check in with the others, see how they are.”

Callahan just nods once, his gaze flicking from you to Hopper and back again with utter confusion.

Rising, Hopper glances from Karen to you.

“See you around.”

“Yeah, bye, happy holidays,” you answer, Karen possibly unable to speak.

His lips move slightly, possibly into a faint smile. “Yeah, to you, too.”

And then he walks away, heading for the bar. Staring at where he’d just been sat, a slightly strangled sound releases from the back of your throat.

“Oh my God, oh my God...”

Looking to Karen, a whole range of emotions are flashing across her face as she tries to find the most comforting one. She fails.

“Oh, babe, oh God, that was horrible.”

“I know, I just, I forgot how to have a conversation, my voice got so high.”

“It did, I don’t know why you did that.”

“Neither do I, oh my God...” Putting your head in your hands, you then quickly lift it after a moment, pressing your lips together as you raise your hands. “Whatever. It’s fine. Let’s just, please, move past it. It’s over, I got it out the way, it was civilised, it’s done.”

“You’re right, you’re so right, please let’s forget it. Let’s drink.”

“Yes, please.”

You tap your glass against Karen’s as she raises it, and both take a long drink.

Oh, God.

That had been... so uneventful you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. In all the times you’d thought about how this exact moment might go, you’d never thought it would be uneventful. You’d imagined yelling, or crying, sometimes even laughing, but this...

Well. It was really like it had meant nothing at all.

You don’t know why it’s getting to you so much. You broke up with him. Of course he’d have moved on and left it all behind, God, you have as well. You’ve both lived your lives, gone through so many things and come out the other side and... A break up when you were teenagers kind of pales in comparison.

Yeah. It’s all fine. In fact, you know what, you’re relieved. It’s mature. It’s done. That’s it. You don’t have to be best friends with him again, for fuck’s sake.

Lowering your drink, you don’t realise your internal monologue has played out on your face, eyes widening and narrowing. Looking up, you find Karen and Callahan staring at you.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Who wants another drink?”

You’re out of your seat and heading to the bar before they can respond. Karen sits back in her chair as she blinks, watching you stride away.

“Can someone just please tell me what’s going on?” Callahan bursts out, his hands raised.

“Oh, God, sweetie...” Karen sighs, reaching for her drink again. “... I have no fucking clue.”

—————————————————————————————————

24th December 1982

“Ughhh... Oh, God...”

It’s not your own groaning that wakes you, but that of someone else.

Cracking open an eye, you stare up at the ceiling as the groaning continues.

Uh, my mouth is so dry...

Licking your lips, you turn your head and find Karen on the other side of the bed, her hair bedraggled and spilling across the pillow, mascara halfway down her face, lipstick smeared. Turning her own head, she looks at you and groans again.

“Am I alive?”

“I think so,” you rasp, and she groans mournfully.

“Ughhhh... I don’t even remember how we got home...”

Closing your eyes, you scratch at your forehead, trying to remember yourself.

You’d gone to the bar, drank, drank a lot, maybe danced a little, spoken with your old classmate, Jessica? Justine? and then... Oh, what was his name again...

“Callahan,” you murmur, your throat aching. “Callahan brought us home.”

“Oh, yeah... Didn’t we ask him to turn on his lights?”

Your lips twitch as you recall how you’d both screamed with joy and whooped and cheered as he’d turned on the lights, waving your arms from side to side.

You snort and she glances at you. A laugh escapes you as you think about the absurdity of it all, and then she’s laughing, too, her cackle loud and delighted.

“Oh my God... Ugh, that was fun...” she sighs, her smile lingering.

“Yeah...” you murmur, stretching your legs out.

“We’ll have fun tonight, too.” She pats your hand, exhaling a breath. “If we just... If we just sleep ‘till noon, and then we can start preparing the house... Maybe even two, it won’t take long...”

You hum, closing your eyes, and, yeah, sleeping a little longer does sound like a good idea... Besides, when you’re unconscious, you don’t have to think about a certain embarrassing event that happened...

Perfect.

You focus on the softness of the bed as Karen snores lightly beside you, already fast asleep... Yeah... the joy of unconsciousness...

—

“... Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock... Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring... Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun... Now the jingle hop has begun...”

Adjusting a plate on the table, you straighten and blow out a breath, trying to stifle a yawn.

I really can’t handle a night out anymore.

Brushing your hands together, you turn, surveying the party that’s in full-swing. It’s only a couple of hours in but it’s already a success. People are talking, laughing, dancing, singing, eating, drinking, having a merry old time in general really. You feel more proud than you would have thought as your gaze drifts across the room.

You’d had to shake Karen awake at half one, both of you practically dehydrated and feeling not so fresh. After drinking copious amounts of water, showering, changing and finally eating, realising you were both starving, you’d flown around the house together, tidying, cleaning, cooking up food, putting drinks out and decorating. It had been another whirlwind but a wonderful whirlwind. You’d had so much fun, and hadn’t thought once about The Incident. An hour before the party was due to start, you and Karen had gotten ready, selecting slightly more festive outfits than the ones you’d worn last night.

Now, she’s in the kitchen, laughing at something a neighbour is saying, while Mike and Nancy talk in separate corners with some of their friends who have turned up, and Ted, who’d you’d finally bumped in to and greeted, was sat in his armchair, talking with a guy who looked slightly desperate to get away.

The doorbell chimes and you catch Karen’s eye, waving your hand and mouthing, “I’ll get it,”, as you’ve done so for the last few chimes.

You have to carefully push your way past people on the way to the foyer, which is surprisingly empty. Moving to the door, you grip the handle and pull it open, a smile already on your lips.

“Hey—”

You cut yourself off, pausing as you stare up at the man.

Hopper stares back at you, shoulders slightly hunched from the cold, hands in his pockets.

"Hi,” he says, glancing behind you briefly.

"Hey,” you repeat, your heart pounding.

... Whaaaaaat is he doing here?

As if he’s somehow heard your thought, he clears his throat and raises his eyebrows a little. “Uh, Callahan said we were invited.”

Oh, fuck, yes, you’d forgotten Karen had insisted he come, and you, jokingly, had said, ‘Hey, why not invite Hopper, too?’

Haha. Ha. What a hilarious joke. What a hilarious little joke that Callahan clearly hadn’t taken as a joke so it is now real.

Just as you realise you haven’t answered him, he clears his throat again. “Should I—”

“Oh, no, God, sorry, come in.” Holding the door open, you step back, gesturing with your other hand into the foyer.

He steps in, glancing at the party beyond before he turns to you as you close the door, looking up at him.

You’re staring again.

Swallowing, you point at the stairs. “Uh, coats are up here, I’ll show you.”

Before he can answer, you stride to the steps and ascend, gripping the bannister.

Ooh... Ooh, what’s happening... What am I doing...

You’ve shown the last few people up to where the coats are being kept, just in case you can’t see them out, but this is... This is rather intimate.

You hear him behind you, following you up, and you make yourself exhale a long breath to try and calm your heart.

Be an adult.

The coats are being kept where they usually would at a Wheeler party; the guest room, AKA your room. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been basically escorting people up to it, not wanting them to linger in there or have a stranger possibly go through your things.

Pushing the door open, you step in to the dimly lit room and gesture at the bed that’s piled high with coats, scarves and jackets.

“Just here, leave it anywhere.”

He stands in the doorway, hands back in his pockets.

“I’m actually not stayin’ long, I’ve got a shift soon.”

Your hands drop. “Oh. Okay...” You can’t stop a slight frown from crossing your features. “Why did you come up, then?”

Hopper meets your gaze, his jaw moving minutely. “‘cause I want to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

You’re sweating, your fingers flexing by your side.

Okay, here we go, he’s gonna yell at me and tell me everything he’s been holding back, here we go...

Shifting his stance, he leans against the doorframe, his gaze holding yours. “Listen, last night, I... I’m sorry I left so abruptly. That wasn’t, uh... polite of me.”

... Well, that’s not what you’d expected.

Your lips parted, you gaze at him. “Uh, no, no, no, it’s fine, I, I completely get it. It’s, uhm...” You pause, swallowing. Then, you smile faintly, and just say it, your voice dropping slightly. “... It’s weird, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, it is.” He lets out a laugh, and for some reason the sound of it warms you. “I was a little taken aback when I saw you, I was totally unprepared.”

“Oh, me, too.” You exhale a laugh, your smile easing. “I wanted to say so many things but my brain wasn’t quite connected to my mouth.” You laugh again, though it’s more nervous this time, because you know if you don’t say it now, you never will. Your tongue gliding across your lips, you raise your hands a little. “Look, Hop, I...” Fuck, it feels strange saying his name again. “... I’m sorry for how things ended between us.”

Hopper’s already shaking his head before you’ve finished, a slight dip to his brow. “Don’t be. I think it was the kick up the ass I needed, and I knew you were right. Took me a little while to admit that, but, yeah.”

“Still, I could have given us a chance—”

“We were kids,” he cuts you off gently with a light smile, shrugging. “Neither of us knew what we were doin’ or how to handle somethin’ like that.”

You snort. “I still don’t.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher. “Yeah, me, too.” Grazing his teeth over his lower lip, you watch him as he seems to consider something, your cheeks heating slightly at his intense gaze. “... Stop me if I’m, uh, treadin’ where I shouldn’t, but, and I’m just connectin’ the dots here, you said you’re stayin’ in Hawkins indefinitely, is that because something similar has happened?”

You give a faint smile, pointing a finger at him as you raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, you got me. I, uhm...” Here we go... “... I broke up with my fiancé. Or, he broke up with me, actually.” Your smile widens a little more. “Good connecting, you must be a great Chief.”

“Well, I do my best.” He looks sympathetic in a way that is mercifully not pitying. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I feel like shit every day, but, it was for the best. He was an asshole. I just didn’t want to see it.”

“How come he did the breaking up, then?”

You fold your arms, exhaling a breath. “He met someone else. Didn’t even bother to hide it or save my feelings. Just told me.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it really did.”

“Still,” he nods his head at you, “you seem much better off.”

You feel a little proud at that, because, actually, you feel like a mess. “Thanks. Karen’s letting me stay here until I figure out what I wanna do. I don’t even know if I like my job anymore or if it’s just everything that’s going on making me feel like I hate it, or maybe I have hated it for a while and I just don’t want to admit that to myself either.” You catch yourself from continuing, releasing a sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just rambling on now, you can go back down—”

“Nah, it’s okay, I like listenin’ to you.”

He says it so sincerely, holding your gaze, that you don’t quite know what to do. Biting at your lower lip briefly, you look away for a few moments, your fingers twisting together.

“Well... Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You can hear the smile in his tone, so you look up, and God...

You’ve missed that smile.

His expression is so soft, too, so gentle and...

No, no, no, no... No, it’s just because you’re sad and it’s Christmas and—

Clearing his throat, he leans an arm against the chest of drawers beside the door.

“Y’know, I... I’ve thought about you over the years, thought about reachin’ out. I heard from someone years ago that you were in New York and I... I told myself I was gonna look you up but... I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Didn’t know if you’d even want to see me.”

A smile pulls at your lips, your chest aching slightly. “I think I would have.” Biting at your lower lip again, you take a breath. “... I’ve thought about you, too. Sometimes I think about if I made the biggest mistake of my life in leaving you.”

He blinks, before quickly smiling, shaking his head. “Like I said, we were just kids. We didn’t know any better.”

“I know.”

You’re gazing at each other again, quietly.

Don’t.

Clearing your throat, you make yourself smile. “I’m so sorry, I should have offered you a drink, I—”

“Would you like to go out for a drink?” he asks, so swiftly that it’s as if he’d been waiting to. “So we can catch up properly?”

Staring at him, you feel something quietly ignite within you. He looks somewhat nervous, and for some reason it calms you instantly.

A softer smile returning to your lips, you nod. “I’d like that.”

One corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other as he straightens, his hands falling to his sides. “Good. Okay. I’ll call. I gotta head out now, sorry, I just wanted to drop by before my shift.”

He wanted to drop by... to see me.

Trying to contain your smile, you move towards him, heading for the door. “It’s okay, I’ll walk you out.”

“Thanks.”

You head down the hallway and stairs in silence, your heart fluttering wildly. You’re suddenly very aware of your body, and of his right behind you, and oh my God, when was the last time I felt this way?

Pulling the door open, you hold it for him as you smile.

“Well, I hope your shift goes okay.”

“Thanks.”

He’s stood before you, a hand in his pocket, and he doesn’t move.

Then, his other hand moves to rest on your arm gently as he lowers his head and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

Oh, fuck.

His lips brushing against your skin makes your heart stop and every inch of your skin warm. It’s brief, far too brief, and when he pulls his head back to look at you, you desperately hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel.

Giving a slightly breathless smile, you hold his gaze. “Merry Christmas, Hop’.”

The smile he gives in return has you feeling a way you know you haven’t in years.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————————————

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whalesfallmoved · 4 years

Text

soft descent

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance.

chargestep. rated m. twisted memories and revenge and nightmares of all kinds and ricardo ortega, starring as sidestep’s poorly repressed self-doubt, in a manner of speaking.

or, sidestep sees nothing clearly, and her head has never been a pleasant place to be.

warnings: implications of suicide, slight body horror, violence, injury. hurt, without comfort, because of course.

ao3 link.

——

“Oof, that’s going to leave a mark.”

You’re standing next to the window in the dark the sun blistering overhead and the glass shattered underfoot. He’s looking down. You’re looking at him. It’s always been like that. When you look down you’ll see— no. You’re not going to look down. You’re going to look at him.

“It didn’t feel great.”

He smiles and it’s broken, one hand on the windowsill, one hand on his gut where Catastrofiend’s goodbye kiss drips slowly, wetly, a splash of violence against the cobalt blue skinsuit, Ranger-proud. You want to say you should get that looked at but it wouldn’t do any good, he’s already gotten blood all over the carpet.

Soft laugh and when he licks his lips you can see a hint of red, waiting to get coughed up, waiting to get expelled, the body killing itself to save itself—you remember the way it stuck between your fingers, the delirium—beg, the monster-thing demanded, and he laughed then too.

You look down at your hands. The way they curl up, clinging to air.

Are you bleeding? You must be.

“Yeah, I know all about that.”

“No,” you shake your head and your spine pops, “you don’t.”

“What, are we comparing jumps now?”

“Are we?” wouldn’t that be something. He never talked about this before, why start now? Trying to get you to forgive him? You won’t.

“It was a longer drop.”

“And there were people there to help you.”

“Depends on your definition of help.” Head jerk to the side, beckoning you to look, look down, look at them, look at you. “Technically, they helped you too.”

Bite down, taste blood and bile. Have you started choking yet down there? You remember the way it sluiced up your throat, the way you could feel the crack and splinter of your ribcage. His brows furrow a little and maybe he feels bad. You hope so. You hope it’s twisting him up inside.

“Wish they’d helped me to the morgue.”

Exhale, ragged and wet and torn.

“Yeah, those contracts are a bitch, huh? Nothing like a blood debt.”

“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” You taunt, vision hazy bones aching— pulse in your ribs, they must have picked you up by now, isn’t that nice. He’s still looking down, waiting for something to happen. “Poor Ricardo. The US government branded on his ass till the day he dies. Join the fucking club.”

“Hey—” he hisses, flashing his eyes to you finally, “you could pretend to sympathize.”

“I’m so sorry you have posters and trading cards and get invited to award ceremonies and—”

“Oh, I knew I have trading cards, but how did you know I have trading cards,” a wink, sly, charming and wrong, like a bone splitting the skin. “Collecting them, aren’t you?”

“You wish.”

You want to throw up. His neck is bruised.

He sighs, knocks his fist against the window. You both flinch. “They’re gonna keep you going till you’ve got nothing left to give, you know.”

And this time it’s your turn to laugh, bitter and cruel and serrated. You want to twist the knife in his gut you want to rake your nails down his skin, it’s the least- it’s the least you can do, god you are so angry you shake, but you’ve always been good at staying still. Hold your breath, don’t scream, fuck that hurts, and now he’s looking at you full on. “I’m already out. No thanks to you.”

Maybe he sees the way your hands are starting to twitch. The smile softens and you want to kiss-bite-punch it bruise blue to match his stupid fucking suit.

“Are you?”

Are.

You?

I am.

Am I?

A snake in your throat curling up ready to snap bite. Your lips twist, scene hazy at the edges, and when you get your hands around his neck (oh those are the bruises, they look like your hands) you’ll both be sorry—“fuck off.”

Magic words.

Ortega shrugs, pushes the window open like it doesn’t matter, like it didn’t matter, like he can just do that; he always had to make it about himself, can’t even leave you your death, can’t even leave you your place at the window.

You want to shove him away from it.

You want to shove him through it.

“If you insist.”

Close your eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

—

Dr. Mortum does not smile, not until Angel flashes her a wicked grin and a bag of cash and a promise of more where that came from if— if— if—

She flips through the schematics, eyes brightening—the loose design, the necessities, the ideas—oh, you are going to do such great things together.

“It can be done, I assure you.”

“Excellent. My employer wants nothing but the best.”

—

The sound of waves takes the edge off the thump of a corpse hitting the ground, but you aren’t ready for it—you aren’t ready for the scent of rotting meat, rancid and cloying under the Los Diablos sun.

You open your eyes and when you look down, a dead girl is mangled, half gone. You think— she almost looks like your target.

Huh.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.”

Voice soft prying you know it and you groan, twist, turn, the sand uneven and blood-splattered.

He’s got that loose hold, hip jutted on a rock arms crossed, too casual for the teething gore surrounding them. Suit torn and eaten at, blood drip-drip-dripping down his arm where the skin is all gone, you keep waiting for them to crawl through the sand and eat you both alive. Maybe you won’t save him this time.

“Which one?” You ask, and when you look down you’re in the old suit, fitted like an infected wound. You yank at the collar, touch your cheek, your face— you’d covered your face here, hadn’t you? Yes.

He smiles. Shakes his head.

He hadn’t let them touch you, even when you collapsed, even when they wanted to help.

Not that it matters. None of it matters anymore.

“So you do care about my opinion?”

“No,” you murmur, choking down a gag—dead meat, food for the nanovores, food for the flies, “but that’s never stopped you before.”

“True,” he winks, running through the motions; what you remember, what you want to forget. Oh god you want to forget. You want to peel back this body and dig into the marrow and pull, pull, pull until the memories unravel in streams of violent orange.

He pushes off the rock, kicks his long legs out and walks too easily for a man that almost got eaten alive five minutes ago. “Walk with me?” He asks the way you don’t ask, you order, and throws his wounded arm over your shoulder, locking you hip to hip, no way out.

You sink under the weight, slotted to his side like a mismatched puzzle piece. Nothing about you fits, disjointed, dislocated. You’ve been shaped wrong for a long time now. They didn’t put all the parts back right. A doll unstitched and gutted for parts, but they didn’t— did they recycle you? Just medical waste and scars.

“You take me to the nicest places,” you say because it’s the only thing you can say when the sky looks like God wrapped his big meaty fist around it so tightly till it swelled and pinkened.

Black clouds on the skyline. Here they come. Don’t they know how strong you are now? How many webs you can weave? You crack your knuckles and almost smile.

Then you see: Tía Elena crosses herself in the background. She shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. Why haven’t they evacuated all the civilians?

“Well, you never let me take you anywhere else,” he huffs, ignoring his mother as they walk on by, and that’s not— that’s not right?

It— no. You don’t want to be here. You can’t do that to him, not even now.

—

Fuck that’s good you’re invincible. The reckoning day is coming and when it does you’ll watch out for this one, you’ll remember her, how it felt to sit in her skin and move under it, but she can’t stop you. None of them can stop you now.

You smile and it’s sharp and cruel and silver. You almost almost almost want him to show up but the victory wouldn’t be quite as sweet, and you don’t really want to take a lightning bolt to the chest. Even if it wouldn’t slow you down, it’d still fucking hurt.

But it doesn’t matter. When you drive your foot into the golden boy’s chest you can feel his ribs crack a little bit and that’s even better. You’ll be riding the high of that for weeks after this. He’s a kicked puppy and you want— you want to kick him again, but there’s no time for that, no time for anything.

You wonder if Steel recognizes the grin right before you drop her like a body bag.

—

Gasp—jump spin dodge—near miss, fuck—Ortega laughed at the start but he’s not laughing anymore, smoke on the air, electricity crackling over his skin.

Fire off at its head one two, one miss, one hit. Head jerks, twists.

The thing-beast groans— don’t look at me i’m not here don’t look— “yOu...” guttural ugly it sees you, it sees you.

Run run run don’t touch me— “Noa!” He shouts and you stop drop and roll just in time for a blade to swing down, headsman’s axe, grazing the suit but not quite touching. Space where your body was empty, and it howls rage-snap.

“Mother— fucker!”

This. This you remember.

You remember the way its mind shucked the skin off your bones, all slick-blood drip drip drip. Gory, wrong, wound over wire, dirty fingernails scraping on the myelin, eating eating down down down— you remember: if you let it in it’ll kill you, cut your throat on its twisty edge thoughts as quick as a knife in hand.

You remember the images in your head— its plans, its ideas, the ways it was going to ply and split him down the middle like a rotten fruit. You couldn’t look at him for weeks. Almost. He was almost.

Almost.

Blink and the scene changes, and backup’s arrived, and you’re holding onto him, your mind pressed up against ITS just enough to make you both disappear. You threw up again and again afterward, but you still couldn’t forget, oil-slick.

not here we’re not here don’tlookatus

Then: you covered the wound with your own hands.

Now: you tilt your head to the side, pet his hair. It still doesn’t hurt as bad as the final impact, hitting the ground, or what came next. Suck it up.

“I told you,” he slurs, eyes half-mast, must be hazy from the blood loss. The human body can only take so much, even with the cutting edge mods. “I know all about that.”

“You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything at all.”

Hand over wound, you push down and he groans. You might as well save him again. You still haven’t had that showdown, and you’re gunning for a win. A dozen to one then, but you’ve gotten better, faster, smarter, your body catching up with your thoughts, and he doesn’t think at all. Doesn’t even matter if he did, you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

“C’mon, Noa,” that’s not your name, that’s the name he gave you—your name is a mouthful, he’d grinned and you’d rolled your eyes and flushed, but now it sticks like a stove burn—numbers and names and Noa, Noa, no one else has ever gotten close enough to name you— fuck you. “Throw me a bone here.”

“No.”

“Fine.” he gasps, chokes, but the words still spill loose, “but you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.” He says, sounding so fucking reasonable while he’s bleeding out on your lap, and now you definitely have to save him, now you definitely have to make sure he lives, just so you can level him for that alone. Just wait, a feeling builds up in your chest, his day is coming and it’s coming fast.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t hate you for.” You want to snarl, a fighting dog, a dog fit for the ring, but it comes out weak, threadbare, and you hate the way your hands shake, the way your throat hardens up and each word is estranged from your mouth.

“At least give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Why?” Is that your voice? Small and weak, a child learning to make a fist, thumb tucked in. But you were never a child. You were never small.

“You know me,” he punches out a laugh and it breaks like a sob, “I love a challenge.”

“This isn’t a challenge, Ricardo. There’s just nothing left.”

—

He.

“November?”

He is.

“I thought you were dead—”

Older. Different. That feels wrong, wrong. He should be the same he can’t have changed that much. Fuck that moustache is ridiculous. He looks so heavy with grief, or is that just you, reflected back? A labyrinth of static.

It’s all blurry and too much, not enough, but maybe— for a moment— for a moment everything shatters, fingers under a suture, and maybe— it’s just a flash of his eyes, real and in front of you and not blurred by a late night show or security footage fight you only watched to make sure he still leads with his left sucker punch with his right and maybe—

“Are you still a telepath?”

You say yes and feel like a fool and you tell him a dash of the truth and you feel like a wound and you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.

Your hands are shaking. You make a fist.

He wants— he wants something.

A raw crack down your spine and you smile and it feels wrong. Maybe it looks wrong. He won’t stop watching you like you’ll disappear if he blinks more than once, if he looks away, and maybe you will. Maybe you’re just ash and graveyard dirt held together with sutures and wire.

You want to crawl through the floor to someplace small and dark and cold where no one will ever find you again.

You tell him just enough, just enough to keep on hating him.

It’ll be easier that way.

—

Rewind.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.” He cackles as you thrust out a punch—miss—and dodge his return, feet sliding on the mat. You can’t believe you let him talk you into this, a friendly spar on Ranger soil.

“Which one?” Thrust dodge lock your ankle around his own, slipping up letting you get close like that, rookie mistake— twist of your hip— throw! and the satisfying slap of skin on the mat, his skin, his body hitting the ground, but he holds hard and pulls you down with him (if you go i go) and you land— oof! breathless and grinning and on top, finally, finally.

Fingers lock and you shift, thighs on either side, pin him down, his emitters humming biting pinching but you got him, and you aren’t letting go. A shiver skip-dances down your spine, static-charged.

“I win,” you growl, a winner’s grin biting into your cheeks, free and loose (where’s your mask?)

He squeezes your hand, sends a low-grade jolt up your palms sharp, just to see what you’ll do, jellyfish stings, and you squeeze back harder, lean down till you can feel his breath hot on your lips. You never got this close before, he’s so solid beneath you.

Ricardo, grinning back, a halo of black curls fanned out, sticking to his brow all slick with sweat, “what is that, a dozen to one?”

“Shut up,” he can’t take this from you, not yet, “don’t be a sore loser.”

“Actually, I’m enjoying myself quite a bit right now. I should let you win more often.”

“Fuck you,” but it tears out a laugh far too sweet for your mouth. You feel segmented and gentle, like a scorpion smashed on a rock left out to rot in the sun. Maybe he’ll take you home, run his fingers through your matted hair and not mind the stingers or the venom. You weren’t made for a laughter light like this, and if there was ever a time you could be it’s long gone now, but you still want him to touch you, a want like a scar healed wrong.

“Buy me dinner first— ah!” You let go just to crack your palm against the top of his head, anything to wipe that smug edge off, and— “okay, fine, I’ll buy dinner,” but this time when your hand comes down he catches it, brings it to his lips, soft on your palm— oh god, oh god it hurts.

“And then what?” You dare, you gasp, you’ve never been that bold—couldn’t afford boldness, always a coward at heart and that’s how he always won, but for a moment you let your fingers curl along his cheekbone. His eyes slide closed, kissing still—dart of tongue, tracing the line of your palm. How long is my life? How many children will I have? What do the cracks in the skin say? Maybe his mouth can divine something human in the shape of your hand, even if the lines there aren’t really yours, just a thing they gave you to play pretend.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, still not giving you his gaze, a pained crush to his brow, “you did ask me to take you somewhere nice.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Liar. I never asked you to do anything.”

He smiles right on your skin, like a knife sliding under your gut—girl/deer, splayed out on the slaughterhouse floor of his kindness. The world hazes at the edges, curling up set aflame.

Somewhere nice. Too bad it can’t last.

Finally. Finally he looks at you. Sees you. How long has it been since someone hasn’t stared through?

“No, you didn’t. I wish you would have.”

—

Choking hard gasp and the phone screams or maybe you do. Your teeth throb.

The room is heavy dark save for the corners of curtained sunlight peeking through, the air scented thickly of cheap candles and candy wrappers. The sheets are sweat-slick and you can smell your own skin, the rawness of sleep on it. Musky. Unsterilized.

The fabric sticks and itches. Fingers under the hem, you toss the sweater aside, hear it thump damply against a wall.

Breathe. Hand to chest and yes, that’s your heart, rocking in your rib cage, slowing down. You breathe with in—ten—tion.

One.

Two.

Three.

Okay, you’re okay. You can do this. You can still do this.

—

“I don’t want to do this here.”

He holds out a plate of food, tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching up. Pushes the plate into your hands, and you take it—just hold out something to someone and nine times out of ten they’ll take it without thinking, asking only after they’ve agreed to carry the burden.

Silly you, you never had a choice.

His apartment is soft and safe around the edges, and your heart gets sticky in your chest. You think maybe those are your books on his shelf, the ones you lost after—

“What’s wrong with here?” He shrugs, brushing past toward the table, beckoning you to follow with a grin and a nudge.

“I like it here.” You answer honestly, for once, and he beams, a light bright enough to burn.

“I know.”

“So why are you ruining it?”

“Ruining it?” Hurt. Smile gone.

“Take me somewhere else. Anywhere else.” Somewhere cruel and sharp as a scalpel to the throat. Psychopather or Overlord or the dilapidated construction ruin you jumped out of at the second story and broke your wrist because you made a deal— you agreed to a dare— race you to the bottom down the stairs— if you lose you have to answer my questions— and god, you didn’t want to answer anything, anything at all, and he’d screamed your name, cursed you out, told you don’t be an idiot what if you broke your neck and flinched when you snapped I was just following your lead.

“I can’t,” he shakes his head and you have to sit down, set the plate on the table before you drop it, wouldn’t want to break the fine china. Did his mother give him this? You think so; he’d taken such care, stacking each plate freshly hand washed before putting them away.

“Liar.”

“Not this time,” a loaded smile, a loaded gun, his fork twirls around on his plate. Shadow of a wrist and a vague gesture to the seams of the scenery. “This is all you. Your shape. What you made. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Then I’m not staying.”

Shrug again. Why won’t he do anything else? A looped tape, a slight glitch. Something’s wrong.

You’re wrong, maybe.

“Not even for dinner?”

You stand up. Pace. There are plans— things to be done— finishing touches— you can’t stay here. You can’t.

“What do you want, Noa?” He asks, so softly, so gently, it would be kinder if he killed you there, but you know he won’t; it’ll take a lot more than bad table manners to push him to that, but maybe you can do it. Maybe you can get him a little ruthless, even more desperate. You’ve seen it before, in flashes, coiling green under his skin. Won’t it be funny if he breaks before you do? No blood on your hands, not yet. What a record. Fitting, almost.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Why?”

“Hard to work on an empty stomach,” he shrugs again, fuck, stop doing that. Bare feet silent on the carpet and you find yourself back at the table, back in the chair, sitting across from him and there’s nowhere to go—

Blink.

Sterile antiseptic white walls and doctors— in your apartment— your neighbor? Yes, that’s your neighbor he accused you of staring once, the fuck are you lookin’ at? And you weren’t staring, at least not like that, but it took a soft nudge of don’t look at me for him to go all the same. Strange. You didn’t think a doctor would live here. It’s a bad side of town, but it’s good for sidestepping.

You think: I am going to wake up now.

Wait. No. You say this out loud. It comes through with the wet ache of drowning.

No. Wait. Your words roll back down your throat—you didn’t say it. You didn’t say anything at all. You never have.

All the words roll in but they’re not yours you’re fit to burst.

It must be nice being able to speak.

Not here.

Maybe that’s what it is to be human.

Get real, you think because you stick your fingers in a few skulls and cut your teeth on some gray matter while someone thinks about love you know what being human is?

I could. I could know.

They gave you a tongue and mouth and lips but you can’t kiss and you can’t make words, you can only patch together the syntax, call it real, call it human—but when you speak it’s always going to be with someone else’s voice, strangled out.

The walls are whiter now and the lights slice your skin like a hot knife through butter. It isn’t a cliff but a door you’ve already walked through and the ocean inside the warehouse inside the apartment is now a table with handcuffs. His table. Her table. You jerk your wrists and the metal clanks hard and fuck no not here not here please take me back i’m sorry i want to go back—

(he’s coming to get you)

(he wouldn’t leave you here)

(no time for the dramatics ricardo just get the door let’s blow this popsicle stand)

She smiles at you from across that metal table (wait) and tells you that you are never going to die (stop) because to die you have to be alive (i am i am i?) and you should know better by now we are going to do such great things together (please)

aren’t we,

aren’t we.

aren’t i?

wake up now- i want to— please.

—

You’re alone in the dark, the armor fits perfectly, and that’s all that matters.

(when you become a casualty revoked from the grave get ready a revenant coming back to eat them alive oh oh oh just you wait)

You think you’ll keep the name.

(sidestep and charge reunited again you can see the headlines now and fuck you can’t wait to see the look on his face you were always a pair maybe he’ll stop you wouldn’t that be something)

You don’t sleep.

—

He doesn’t stop you.

—

“Noa?”

“Yes?”

“You are... fine, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

“Of course I would.”

—

Your dreams are filmy, cracked wombs of (not not not) memories and gummy tissue. Press on it too hard and it moves back just the same but with a muscle deep ache. At least you know it’s a dream this time, and when you go up the stairs and find him there, you don’t hiss or spit or curse. You’ve done enough of that. He’ll carry the scars to prove it.

He’s looking out the window. He’s looking at you.

No, he’s looking at you. You flinch and you don’t know why.

“Really? Even here?”

“What?”

“Take the mask off at least. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen your pretty face.”

You reach up and your fingers find hard armor, not supple skinsuit. When you look back his face is different, older, not the poster-ready Marshal but aged, aching, and you ache with it, bone-deep.

You’re so tired. You wonder if he is too.

The helmet comes off. Drops with a thump.

You go to the window. After all, there’s nowhere else left, and he asked so nicely.

“What do we do now?” You ask, so softly. Still can’t look outside. Still don’t want to see what he sees. Better to watch him watch you. Now that you’re on the other side of things, you prefer it when you’re the one doing the bleeding—what a thing.

“I don’t know,” a laugh a sob or something in between, he crosses his arms and turns away, turns toward you. “Did you ever figure out what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You blink and he’s himself again, younger, more angular, a grin fit for the big screen on his handsome, handsome face. It’s easier to talk to him like this, the way you remember, the way it should be. Time didn’t move while you were gone, and you’re the only one still snapped in half.

A pause. Are you smiling now? It must be a sad little thing though, because his eyes soften up and a frown mars his forehead.

“I want to watch you grow old.”

“What, so you can keep on teasing me? That never stopped you before.”

“Shut up, I’m not done yet.” you whisper, stepping forward, stepping up to the cliff’s edge.

“I want to watch you grow old,” reaching for his hand, and he lets you have them both, cradled so carefully—and your gloves are black and armored and insulated, but not the most protected part of your body. Could he kill you with a surge? Maybe. “And I want to watch you die in a bed. Your bed.”

“A little morbid,” he murmurs but you’ve got to keep going, you’ve got to get it out, because once it’s out you’ll never have to look at it again. “But I guess that tracks.”

Turn over his hands, you thumb at his emitters. Hint of a spark, and you laugh and now it’s sob, now it’s a wound. You won’t look at him. “I want to watch the arthritis take your hands and I want to take you away from this fucking city and we’ll both be so bored out of our minds, we’ll start inventing problems just to fix them.”

“Careful, Noa,” hands turn over, running up your armored wrists, grasping at your forearms. “That almost sounds like a happy ending.”

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance. You don’t have one now.

“And we can’t have that.”

You look up. The sun’s on his face now, turning his eyes a shade of deep whiskey, and that’s how you want to remember him; alive under the sun, smile lines just forming, his nose a bit crooked from getting punched one too many times. You’ll be on the ground in a moment.

“No,” he agrees, grasping at your elbows now, pulling you close, and you cling to his in turn. “We can’t.” Flash and grin, and there he is, just like you remember. Challenging, challenger. No chance, and neither of you know when to quit. “Want to up the stakes a bit?”

“Always.”

You let go first. Of course. You turn to the window. You open it.

“Whoever falls fastest wins.”

“And what do I get when I win?” When, not if.

“A quick and painless death.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. “That’s a hell of a thing. How do I know you won’t cheat?”

“You don’t,” he winks, steps back, head tilt toward the window. Mirrored. You’ve got one hand on the windowsill and one hand curled around your gut, where he sunk that barb between the plates before you cracked his skull on the ground before all of Los Diablos. “You never do. Isn’t that part of the fun?”

You take your place at the window, you set your shoulders, look down. What’s he been looking at all this time?

Long way down, and you wait to see her; you, in soft skinsuit, teal and black and bloody and broken, but she isn’t there.

Just an ambulance, an end repeating itself.

“Person who falls the fastest, huh?”

“And hits the ground hardest.”

You climb up, clench your jaw.

It always ends like this.

“You’re on.”

#chargestep #fhr #mywriting #okay-- I have not slept. and that is indeed a problem. and this should probably get more than a cursory glance-over. alas.#there's running themes in here somewhere- I swear- but until then I'm going to sleep #ricardo strictly through noa's twisted memories and flawed perceptions and rage up until she finds him again - because yeah #(is it ortega? good question. she doesn't know either. but your (not) lover-slash-rival haunting your memories and dreams.. mhm.)

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harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

onding

onding (n.)-a heavy fall of rain or snow (in this case snow!)

this was inspired by this request and I thought it would be perfect to include in the A Very Merry Styles Fic Challenge! I cannot take full credit for this one as @tbslenthusiast helped guide me as my wonderful creative director, @taintedwonder was my amazing editor, and @bfharry was my lovely beta reader! honestly owe the title to miss tanya @sunflowers-styles cause she was a huge help with that! I appreciate you all so much ❤

hope you all enjoy!!

word count: 1.6k

writing tag | masterlist

Snow falls rapidly from the sky as you and Harry drive to your destination, neither of you noticing just how fast at first. You were both too excited at the idea of getting away from your busy schedules to celebrate the holidays with Harry’s family for the week.

His hand rests on your leg as he drives, fingers tapping along to the Christmas music playing from the radio. Occasionally offering a gentle squeeze to your thigh and a sweet smile; relaxation already flowing through his body and wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

The snowflakes seem to get larger and fall faster as you get closer to your destination and, as much as you don’t want to burst through his bubble of contentment, you begin to worry about the quick escalation of them. Your mind starts running through all the many possibilities that could go wrong at the idea of the weather worsening the further you travel.

“Harry..are you sure we shouldn’t stop for the night? It’s getting a bit late and those snowflakes aren’t getting any smaller..”

He ducks his head down slightly to look out the windshield and a deep sigh falls from his lips as he returns to his upright position. You don’t miss the way his fingers grip the steering wheel a bit tighter when he says, “Hate to admit it but, maybe you’re right.”

He still hums along to the songs filling the space, but there’s a significant drop in his mood as he takes the next exit with the most promising hotel options. Your hand trails upwards to work over the knot you can already feel forming on the back of his neck from the stress of the situation as he decides which place would be better suited for the two of you to stay in.

You know his source of frustration only lies with the fact that you’re supposed to be at Anne’s house for Christmas dinner the following evening. You can only hope that the weather permits you to be able to still make an appearance on her doorstep at the time she requested you be there. You know she would be just as happy to see her baby boy a day later than he promised, but it would hurt Harry’s heart deeply not to live up to his word.

The clerk flashes Harry a knowing look when he hands over his card and tells him he only needs one bed for one night. It has Harry’s own smirk returning to his face and a blush spreading across yours at the implication. You suppress a giggle as the rest of the transaction is processed, but it bubbles up out of you the second you’re in the elevator on the way to the 4th floor where your room waits for you. Your laughter rings through the tiny space and only stops when you let your head fall against his chest. He loops the arm that isn’t supporting his duffel bag around your body to pull you even closer, smacking a kiss to the top of your head.

“Someone’s sleepy,” He mumbles into your hair, “Y’only get this deliriously happy when you’re tired.”

You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Or when I’m spending the weekend snowed in with my rockstar boyfriend.”

“Y’really think we’ll get snowed in?”

You shrug, “Maybe. Would it be so bad to be stuck here together for a few days?”

He scrunches his nose at you, “Nah..we’d miss dinner and presents at Mum’s though.”

“Anne’ll forgive us.”

He nods in agreement, “Yeah, know she would. Can’t control the weather, can we?”

You try to restrain the yawn that creeps up but you fail miserably and cover your mouth as it stretches across your face. It had been a long day; an early morning flight and the new international time zone making your eyes drop closed just until the ding indicates you’ve reached your intended floor.

You keep yourself pressed close to Harry’s side as you make your way down the hallway to your room. He fiddles with the key for only a moment before you almost tumble through the open door and his hand catches your waist quickly to steady you. Luckily the bed is close by and you plop down across the bottom of it, your own duffel tossed aside on the floor, arms extended wide across the cream colored duvet.

He tugs on your wrist and you quietly whine before you peek one eye open to look up at him. Before he can say anything, your stomach growls, outraged at the idea of not being fed since the quick lunch you’d been able to grab much earlier in the day.

“M’hungry, Harry, think we could find some dinner before we crash for a few hours?”

“Doubt anything’s open this time’a night. Let’s do a shower first and then we’ll raid the vending machine, yeah?”

You’re both too tired to do anything much more than actually get clean under the spray of the hot water. It feels like a blessing on your skin and you let it rinse away any worry you might still have about the weather outside. His long fingers work over your scalp to ensure all the suds from your shampoo have disappeared and your eyes droop closed without your consent. You have to splay one hand firmly on his chest to keep from falling into him and knocking you both down in your exhausted state.

He steps out first, careful to keep his eyes on you as he works a towel over his body to dry off, grabbing another one off the small shelf mounted on the wall to wrap you in before he lifts you lightly up and over the edge of the tub.

“Arms up.” He’s already dressed himself quickly in a loose pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt and you silently curse yourself for being too tired to enjoy the view. He gently assists you in completing your own nighttime ensemble by slipping your oversized night shirt over your head and guiding your arms through. You sink into the soft piece of clothing as your fingers dance across the hem of the shirt.

“Hey. Y’forgot something,” He chuckles when you look down at your outfit, confused by what he means. “Up here, love. Kiss?” He requests and bends down so you don’t have far to reach up and indulge his offer. It’s a quick peck, mainly to the side of his mouth, but he doesn’t complain; fingers gently guiding your chin to center his lips over yours, a satisfied hum vibrating through his chest just before he pulls away.

You’re more alert now as you make your way to the small vending area that the two of you had passed earlier on your way to the room. He digs some change from his pocket with the hand that isn’t laced with yours, transferring some of it over to your free hand, before jingling his portion around while he surveys the options in the machine. You’re already loading your coins in, poking the numbers on the keypad, and you eagerly await your snack as it makes its way out of the coils to drop down into the slot.

“Knew you’d go for those.” There’s a lazy smile working its way over one side of his mouth as he watches you bend to retrieve the bag of pretzels.

“They’re my favorites,” You mumble and you tear the bag open, unable to wait until you get back to the room. You rest your head on his shoulder while you wait for him to decide on his own snack, “What’re you gonna get?”

“Well seein’ as you snagged the last bag of those, ya g’nna hafta share.”

“Gladly.” You pluck one from the now partly empty bag and bring it to his lips. He bends to accept it, crunching as he finally adds his coins in the machine.

“I’ll get somethin’ sweet for us to split, how’s that sound?”

You hum in agreement, exhaustion working its way through your body again, your brain too tired to form words at the moment. The coils around his selection unwind, dropping it with a clatter, and you move with him when he bends to collect it.

You’re again thankful for the short distance back to the room and a whispered “oof” falls from his lips when you trip over nothing but your socked feet. His hand loosely clutches a handful of the fabric of your shirt to help steady you until you’re falling back on the bed and scooting up to the top. You tuck yourself under the heavy layers of the sheets and duvet and don’t bother waiting for him as you burrow as deep as you can to get warm.

You don’t make it to dessert, passing off the now half eaten bag of pretzels to him, preferring the comfort of the pillow against your cheek over the bite of chocolate he offers you.

“Reckon y’were right about us stopping when we did,” He mutters as he stares down at his phone, the weather app casting a glow onto his face in the now dimly lit room, “Pretty big snow storm blowin’ through. We might be here a lil’ longer than one night.”

“Hmm.”

He knows you’re mostly gone, sleep overtaking any conscious response you may have been able to provide, and he shakes his head at the sleepy smile on your face. Just as your soft snores fill the space between you, his heart swells at the sight of you resting peacefully; knowing there’s no one else he’d rather be snowed in with than his sweet, sleepy girl.

#averymerrystyleschallenge #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #sorry it’s so short!#hopefully will have a couple of other things done for y’all later

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feliix · 4 years

Text

Beck & Call ✦ MYG (18+)

✦ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader ✦ Word count: 1.4k ✦ Rating: M

✦ Genre: smut, crack, a tad bit of fluff, FWB!au

✦ Summary: All hell breaks loose when your brother calls you while you’re in the middle of hooking up with his best friend

✦ Warnings: PWP, explicit smut, creampie, phone sex (but not the kind you’re thinking of), Yoongi has a big dick

✦ Requested by my bby @hobiance ‘requesting one yoongi + vodka pls’

✦ A/N: Thank you to the lovely @namjoonsdove for helping me come up with the title and @jintobean and @hobiance for helping me figure out the banner for this sucker ily all ♡

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland

“Fuck,” you moan as Yoongi drives his hips into your ass, “right there.”

Hooking up with your older brother’s best friend was never in the cards, well, not until you actually started hooking up that is. Yoongi was a good fuck, nothing more. Relationships weren’t exactly your thing, and even if they were there was no way in hell Jin would ever approve.

Yoongi’s large hands grip your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, his length reaching deep inside you from the angle he was holding your body. You hadn’t been at it for very long, but sex with Yoongi was always a relay rather than a marathon. Several quick and variating rounds just worked so much better than one long one. That way it was easier to take the emotions out of things, just scratch the itch (or many itches), and go your separate ways.

You’re pushed forward with one noticeably harder rut, your face meeting the mattress as the force from Yoongi’s thrusts deepens. A string of curses leaves his lips as his tip swipes past your cervix, the size of his length reaching new crevices each time he’s inside of you.

“So close,” you moan as your eyes clamp shut, focused on reaching your sweet release. To your demise, your focus is soon cut short. A bright light illuminates the room from his bedside table, quick and rapid vibrations following soon after.

Yoongi’s head cocks up immediately as he focuses on the name of the screen, his eyes widening a bit when he sees the caller ID, “Its Jin.”

“I’m not answering that,” you pant as his pace begins to pick up in speed, your breath soon leaving your chest.

“If you don’t he’s just gonna call again,” Yoongi grunts between thrusts, not slowing his movements one bit. Answering the phone was a bad idea, but bad ideas were kind of Yoongi’s niche, or else you wouldn’t be in his bed right now.

Without pulling out he reaches over you and to the side, grabbing your phone placed on the nightstand beside the bed. With just one tap of the screen, he was accepting the call, placing the phone to your ear.

“Jinnie, hi!” You speak in the sweetest voice, trying your best to mask the lustful tone that had taken over your voice just seconds prior.

For Yoongi this was just a game, seeing if you could last being railed by him while you were on the phone. It was the anticipation that got him off, knowing that the person on the other line had no idea what was going on.

“Hey, I just wanted to know if you were going to be home for dinner? Are you still at Chaeyoung’s?”

“Yep! OOF–”

Yoongi smiles as his hips thrust into you with such force, knocking you forward just inches away from the bed frame. You look back at him with a sneering look on your face, agitated with his antics, but that wasn’t enough for him to stop.

“Everything alright?”

“All good! I just uh,” you stutter as your brain wracks for a response, “I tripped!”

“Oh? Okay well–”

“Actually Jinnie this isn’t a great time to talk I’m in the middle of something, can I call you later?” Your lip worries between your teeth as you try to suppress a groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to last much longer and refusing to have an orgasm while on the phone with your brother.

“Well actually I was–”

“Okay great! See you at dinner bye!”

And with that you were snatching the phone out of Yoongi’s hand, ending the call and tossing your phone back off to the side. “You did great,” Yoongi praises as he squeezes your sides in reassurance. Heat rises to your cheeks instinctively; you’re thankful that he can’t see the small smile creeping onto your face in the position that you were in.

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Min,” you retort as you arch your back to give him a better angle. That high you were just inches away from had faded, but you were desperate to get it back.

A deep chuckle rips from his throat as his hands tighten on your waist, increasing his pace again to satisfy you. Focused on getting back on track you rock your ass backwards, hands gripping the sheets to give you better traction.

Yoongi’s movements were beginning to slow and become more forceful, the sounds of his skin colliding with yours and the deep moans echoing from his throat filling your ears. Your chest heaves deeper and heavier with each of his movements, soft whines bubbling past your lips.

Lewd sounds fill the room as the squelch from your arousal begins to drip down your thighs. “So wet for me,” he groans, teeth clenching as you squeeze tightly around him. The familiar knot in your stomach was finally beginning to make its way back to you. The repetitive tap of Yoongi’s tip deep inside you had you too far gone. With one powerful thrust, you were coming undone around him. Your legs soon begin to shake, the force from your orgasm too strong for you to handle.

A gentle scream escapes your mouth as you ride out your high, Yoongi’s pace only quickening to grant himself an orgasm of his own. The familiar tingling sensation begins to rush through your veins as oversensitivity starts to set in. When your eyes slam shut all you can see are stars, small white blotches blinding your vision as your pussy continues to spasm around him.

Yoongi’s thrusts persist through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking and all you can offer is the tightening spasms your pussy. Your clenching around him rapidly, milking him for everything he’s worth.

You aren't even able to catch your breath as your orgasm begins to subside. Yoongi is too busy pounding into you, his hips meeting your ass with a slap as he bottoms out.

He doesn’t have to pull out, thankfully you’re on birth control. All that's on your mind is being filled to the brim with Yoongi’s cum. You’re aching for his release, squeezing your core as hard as you can to ease it from him, “Want you to fill me up.”

The grip he holds on your waist tightens, his face scrunching as he focuses on chasing his high. With a few especially hard thrusts he was collapsing over you, holding you close as his cum paints your walls. His heavy breathing fanned over the back of your neck, the perspiration from your body’s mixing like a sexy sweat cocktail.

Yoongi’s body relaxes as he pulls out of you slowly, a trail of cum following in its path and dripping down your thigh. The weight of Yoongi’s body flops down onto the mattress next to you as he lets out an exhausted grunt. Your actions follow soon after, extending your limbs out and laying down to rest your muscles. You know you didn’t have much time until you had to get home. Jin would be there to ask questions if you kept him waiting much longer.

“Come back after dinner?”

Your ears perk up at his words as you rotate your head in his direction. It was odd for you to see him more than twice a week, let alone twice a day. For a moment you’re convinced your hearing things, but by the relaxed look on his face and sparkle of his eyes, it was hard to tell.

“A-after dinner?”

“You could spend the night,” he starts, his words beginning to quicken as he grows anxious at his offer, “if you want to.”

Yoongi’s cheeks begin to grow read as he waits for your answer. It was never his plan to make your situation a serious or permanent thing. But after months of sneaking around, those underlying feelings had begun rising to the surface – he wanted things to be permanent.

An awkward silence fills the air as he awaits your response. A thick gulp travels down his throat, his fingers searching for a loose string or anything to fidget with to ease his nerves.

“I want to,” you say very matter-of-factly, the expression on your face holding true as you try to read his. His face was already red and worn from all the action earlier, but the pink blush creeping onto on his cheeks was due to something else.

“I’ll be back,” and with a soft kiss that you place to his blushing cheek, you are on your way out.

#ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #suganetwork #kpopuniversenet #bhqdrabbles #yoongi x reader #yoongi pwp #yoongi fluff #fwb yoongi #min yoongi

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 40

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I don’t even know how this became 12k words. Anyways I hope to have 41 out in the next week, but be prepared. It’s dirty ;)

Chapter 40

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smut (oral male receiving) thigh riding

Word Count: 12,000

“Hey babe" you hear a raspy voice mumble.

“Hey" you smile closing the fridge door and are met with him leaning against the counter, arms crossed across his chest, fitted suit clinging to his frame. You bounce on your feet, Elise pressed against your chest squirming slightly having just ate.

“How was your nap?” you ask.

“Alright didn’t get much of one, mostly laid there.”

You pull a mug down and reach over to the fresh pot of coffee, pouring one for him.

“Thanks. Where are the boys?” he asks graciously taking the cup from you.

“Outside with your parents by the pool.” With the summer approaching and Fred’s parents down Oliver was very eager to get in the pool. Since opening it the only time you have been able to pull Oliver from the water was for Fred’s hockey, him being more fish than human most days.

“Daddy" you hear Oliver squeal followed by stampeding footprints.

“Hiya” he bends down to pick him up for a hug.

“I like your suit" Oliver says playing with his tie, pulling it out from behind the jacket.

“Thanks bud”

“Grandpa says he is going to take me to the game.”

While Ernst and Charlotte have alternated taking him to the games, tonight is the game. Tonight is game six of the Stanley Cup Finals. If they beat the Canucks tonight they win the cup, if they lose they play game seven in Vancouver in three days.

Charlotte stayed home a couple times with Elise so you could go to some games, but you have missed most of them caring for your newborn daughter. But it hasn’t been that bad, either you have had one of them home to help you with the three young ones. On a few occasions the two of them have gone taking all the boys leaving you with just Elise.

“Yeah daddy looks handsome” Charlotte says walking in. She sets Lucas on his feet, who wobbles for a few seconds on his uneasy legs before dropping to his bum and crawling over.

“Thanks ma" he chuckles bending down in his suit to be closer to Lucas’s level while setting Oliver on his feet. Next Ernst walks in, Noah clutching his fingers as he takes a few uneasy steps.

While neither boy on is walking on their own you are hopeful it will be soon. The idea of the two of them tripping over everything and getting hurt doesn’t excite you; but you hope Charlotte and Ernst get to witness it before heading back to Denmark after the playoffs.

“Woah” Fred calls reaching out to pick up Lucas as Noah guides Ernst towards him. He grabs him pulling him into his other hip earning a slight chuckle from the toddler, just before he stands up Oliver jumps on his back wrapping his hands around his neck.

“Oof" he laughs. “What were we thinking with a fourth?” he turns to face you. “Didn’t have enough hands when there was three babies.”

“You weren’t thinking” Ernst says with a smirk while Charlotte shoots him a glare. Ignoring his father’s comment he walks towards the couch, leaning forward to not drop Oliver. Once standing over it he leans backwards.

Oliver begins to laugh and squeal as his grip loosens before finally letting go and falling onto the couch. Fred gives both of the twins a kiss on their foreheads and sets them on the floor. The two of them make their way over to their toys and Oliver jumps back into Fred’s arms.

“Good luck daddy”

“Oh thanks buddy" he kisses his forehead. “I’ll see you at the game tonight.”

“Mhm" he nods with a big smile.

Next he heads over to his parents both of them wishing him luck before making his way to you.

“Good luck babe, you’re gonna do amazing" his lips press against yours. You run your fingers through his rough beard, it having grown substantially during the playoff run.

“Thanks" he reaches to put a hand on your waist, careful not to pull you in too tight with Elise between you and his lips press briefly against yours.

Pulling away he reaches to grab Elise and you coil away slightly. “Baby you look really nice in that suit, and your daughter has a tendency to puke after eating.”

“Its fine" he laughs grabbing her from you. Her legs stretch out with a slight cry. Once pressed against his chest his familiar scent calms her down and she begins suckling her mouth. He bounces slightly and presses her head against her chest. “She isn’t gonna puke on me" he runs a hand over her back as a small yawn falls from her lips.

“Oh you tired pretty girl" his lips press against her forehead. “Almost your nap time eh” he bounces her a few more times. At that moment you hear her little cough and Fred immediately stops moving her and looks down.

You smirk knowing you were right and Fred pulls her away and you see the vomit staining his white dress shirt and his navy blue suit.

“Don’t say it" he smiles.

“No idea what you’re talking about” you tease following him upstairs.

Once upstairs you take Elise to change her into a clean onesie while Fred switches his suit. Once changed you bring her back into your bedroom setting her in the bassinet, as she isn’t quite six weeks she still sleeps in the room with you both, likely will for a little while longer.

Fred walks out of the closet with his burgundy dress pants on. A crisp new white shirt is tucked tightly into his pants. So tight it hugs the curves of his muscles and you can see his abs through the stomach. He has the matching vest and jacket in his hand tossing them on the bed as he grips the black silk tie.

You take it from him running the smooth fabric through your fingers a few times before wrapping it around his neck. You slowly tie it, not breaking eye contact as you tighten it around his neck and fix his collar.

You rise to your tippy toes gently pressing your mouth against his pulse point, earning a breathy “thanks baby.”

You smirk in response his cologne flooding you as he leans around you to grip his vest and jacket.

“Very handsome Mr. Andersen” you adjust the tie as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeve.

“Fuck you’re something" he groans.

Ignoring his comment you reach around his neck, running your hands through his hair and pulling his lips down to yours.

“You’re gonna be amazing tonight.”

“I can’t convince you to come eh” he presses his lips against yours again; you can taste the minty mouthwash as his tongue spreads your lips and slides in.

Because of how young Elise is she hasn’t been to a game yet and you don’t think she should be at the game tonight. You considered getting Christie for the night but Elise hasn’t had a night without family and you just aren’t ready to do that yet.

Charlotte spent the last two days trying to convince you to go; and you really have gone back and forth. It’s not an easy decision choosing between being a supportive fiancé or your mom duties. Fred has talked with you about it briefly, but he can tell how hard it is for you. Not wanting to make your decision harder he didn’t press the issue.

When you finally decided you would stay home with Elise Charlotte immediately said she would stay with her, that you should be at the game. But you couldn’t do that to her. His parents would wake up early to drive him to practice, and gave up everything for their kids. Now Fred has the chance to win the biggest prize in hockey, something he never would have accomplished without them so you want them there.

“She is so little” you pull away eyeing to your sleeping daughter.

“She’ll love it” his mouth finds a spot under your ear gently nipping the skin. “She’ll be fine up in the family suite, all she is going to do anyways is sleep. She can do that in the suite.”

His hands trail down your body landing on your waist holding you close to his chest as your arms wrap around his neck. “Need my good luck charms there” he gently nuzzles his head into your collarbone “all of them.” His long beard itches against your skin as he nuzzles in deeper “my girls are a part of my good luck charm.”

“You’ve won games without us there” your hips roll forward groaning as he peppers you with soft kisses, your loose t-shirt easily falling off your shoulder to allow him more space.

“But it’s so much better when you’re there cheering me on” his hands slide around to the small of your back as he places soft kisses to your jaw. “No matter what happens I want you there, need you there.”

“I know babe” you whisper softly feeling tears prick your eyes. This is an impossible situation, you want to be there for Fred but Elise is still so young. You sniffle lightly against his chest and he pulls away sighing when he sees your face. His large hands easily cup your face and his thumb wipes away the few tears that have fallen.

“I’m sorry” you whisper rubbing your face against his hand as your eyes gently close.

“Hey no don’t cry” he presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry babe.”

“I feel like I’m disappointing you” you say softly.

“Never” he holds you tight against him as a few slow tears roll down your cheeks. “You’re an amazing mom; I know it’s not easy. Maybe the birth of our next unplanned child will work better with my hockey schedule” he tilts your head to look into your eyes.

You chuckle slightly “no more unplanned babies” you say rolling your eyes blinking back some tears.

“What about planned babies” he smirks.

“Stop” you laugh through blurred lenses.

“There it is” he smirks seeing you smile. He brings his lips to yours briefly “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Your hands slide into his hair while his hands trail down your body. His tongue slips in your mouth and his hands grip your hips as the kiss changes from soft to hungry.

“You’ll be late babe" you mumble against his lips.

“I don’t care” he groans pulling you closer to him. He gives your ass a gentle squeeze and pulling you firmly against him. He presses his lips back to yours, his overgrown mustache slides into your mouth along with his tongue causing you to pull back.

“I can’t wait until this is gone” you laugh raking your nails through his beard. Through the years you have witnessed his playoff facial hair grow in, but they have never made it the finals before, so he hasn’t gone this long with trimming it. In the beginning he would shave away the few hairs that are high on his cheeks, to help keep the shape while the hair grew out. But part way through the second round he stopped and now his beard begins much higher on his cheeks than ever before.

“I was thinking of keeping it for the wedding” he presses his lips back on yours.

“No” you laugh pushing him off you shaking your head. “This” your index finger points to his facial hair “is not welcome at our wedding. Now get going.”

“See you when I get home” he smirks with one final soft kiss before walking out of the room.

“Mommy. Why are you wearing your jacket?” Oliver asks when you walk into the living room a little while later. You have on jeans with a while t-shirt under a black, white and yellow leather jacket with Andersen engraved in cursive font on the back. It’s a custom jacket that every WAG had made for the playoff run. The few games you have gone to you’ve either worn this or your jersey; but it largely has been unworn.

“It’s such an Important night for daddy I thought he’d want all of us there” you say as Charlotte smiles seeing you.

She walks over and wraps her arms around your neck “I’m glad you came to your senses dear, he will want you there no matter what.” Her lips gently press into your cheek and she pulls away “I love you Char" you wipe a tear from your eye.

“Is Elise coming too" Oliver asks as Charlotte smiles her response to your words.

“Yes" you walk into the pantry and pull out a bag you have hidden away that contains a small pink jersey you had custom made to fit her, complete with Fred’s number and daddy embroidered on the back. While you never intended for her to wear this to a game, you were planning on sending him a picture or video with her in it. “I got her this to wear, what do you think Ollie?”

He nods in agreement “mhm daddy will be so happy to see her.”

You find Elise in her swing, pulling the small jersey over her head. She stirs slightly in her sleep and Charlotte hands you a pair of noise cancelling headphones with a grin, she knew all along you would come.

The seven of you climb in the car, Fred having recently traded in the SUV for the seven seat Mercedes. While your old one fit the five of you, it didn’t have a sixth seat. This one can fit 7, so there is more space available for all of you since he refuses to have anything that resembles a minivan.

You all are heading down early. There are festivities in and out of the arena, but you know Oliver won’t be interested in them, too anxious for the game. And the other kids are too young to participate. But they do have a dinner in the family suite, and everyone will be excited to meet the newest addition to the Penguins family.

Once at the suite Elise is immediately pulled from her carrier and whisked off, being shuffled around by the other WAGS. With Ollie you used to try to object, but now you’ve just grown accustom to the babies being gone as soon as you walk in.

“I can’t believe you came" Kathy wraps her arms around you. “You were adamant in not coming a couple hours ago.”

“Please I couldn’t miss this" you pull back “or you. What are you now, 5 months?”

“Four and a half” her hand runs over her stomach.

“That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you" your arms wrap back around you.

“Mhm" she hums her head turning to follow some food being brought in. You chuckle slightly and walk over with her; she’s practically drooling looking at the options.

“Hey Ollie" you call out having no idea where your son is in the room.

“Yeah mommy" he runs up beside you as you make him a small plate.

“Take your jersey off so you can eat” otherwise you know he would spill some ketchup down himself.

“I think she’s hungry" someone says handing Elise back to you just as you sat down.

“Do you need help?” Kathy asks watching as you adjust Elise under a blanket.

“Why? You want to feed me Kath?” you joke adjusting twirling spaghetti on a fork and bringing it to your lips.

“Well I mean if that’s what you need" she laughs “guess I should get used to feeding someone else.”

“You have time for that" you laugh. “But you do learn how to multitask very early on. I mastered the art of eating while I feed my baby pretty early with Oliver. Otherwise I would have starved.”

Fixing your clothes you pull Elise out and drape the blanket over your shoulder, not wanting to have to wear baby vomit for the rest of the night as you burp her before she dozes off again.

“Mommy! The skate is going to start" you hear Oliver notify you. Looking around you see some of the group has filtered out while they make their way down to the glass. Elise is asleep in your arms, pacifier in her mouth; grabbing his hand you make your way down.

Charlotte and Ernst both have one of the twins, and you would think having a sleeping new born and the oldest (who should be the best behaved) would be easier. But Oliver is trying to run down the hall, if he was much stronger he would be dragging you. Once at the glass you check that the headphones haven’t shifted from her or the twins and when you glance up some of the boys have stepped on the ice.

Fred steps on the ice and heads to the net, as he lifts his helmet he finds the group in the corner. Leaving his helmet on the net he skates over, you see the moment he notices you are there because his entire face lights up with the biggest smile. You carefully pull Oliver into your other arm so he can be closer to Fred.

He taps on the glass by the twins, their eyes lighting up and small laughs coming from them, Lucas clapping his hands as they see Fred in front of them. They have no idea what is happening but they always have the same reaction when they see Fred in his goalie equipment on the other side of the glass.

His large smile has yet to fade as he leans over to Oliver waving at him. Oliver holds a fist up and the two of them fist-bump through the glass; their pre-game ritual.

Next he shifts to you shaking his head still in somewhat disbelief. You see his lips moving; while you can’t talk hear through the glass you can tell what he is saying.

I can’t believe you’re here. I love you so much.

You mouth an “I love you” to him and adjust Elise so he can see the writing on the back of her Jersey. A large smile crosses his face as he waves goodbye and skates off, the seven of you returning to the lounge.

You do have actual seats, really good seats actually. But it’s easier with Elise and the twins to be up in the suite. It has space for the stroller, so whenever one of them falls asleep you can set them down in there. It will also be much quieter for everyone, and some comfort and privacy.

You offered to watch Elise and the twins upstairs so the others could watch from the actual seats, Charlotte said no. Wanting to help you so you aren’t left alone with three kids even though you have much experience with that already.

And Ollie said he wanted to stay with you, resulting in all of you upstairs along with a few others including Kathy.

The Canucks come out strong, as expected. Tonight is a must win if they want a shot at the Stanley cup. They easily dominate the first period, shots 10-3; though none have made it past Fred. Oliver is over the moon watching Fred in night. He commentates some of the plays to you and Kathy, yelling whenever Fred has a save.

“You ready for that" you laugh eyeing towards him as he jumps out of his seat for the first save of the second period.

“Honestly I don’t know how much time Sid has left to play” she sighs. “Peanut might not get to see him play, and if they do they surely won’t remember.”

You smile not wanting to push the topic further. As Sid has gotten older the question of his time in the league always comes up. Any time he gets injured or if he blows a play; it’s constantly coming up. Everyone knows this might be his last season, adding an extra layer into the team’s performance.

Part way through the second period a Penguins defenseman pinches to try and keep the puck in the Canuck zone. Brock Boeser beats him to the puck, banking it off the boards before starting off down the ice. The other defenseman takes off along with Pettersson creating a 2 on 1.

The defenseman a few strides back slides to attempt to block the pass, but Boeser manages to pass it a few feet from the net. Landing right on Elias’s stick. Fred having committed to stopping Brock on the right side tries to slide across but not in time. Pettersson tips it over hid pad and in; giving them the lead.

It was a beautiful goal, one that Fred had no chance on. He had to assume Brock would shoot and protect that half of the neck. But regardless of the circumstance it gives them a lead, and a fire they desperately need.

Five minutes later, while on the power play a second one goes past Fred. An absolute rocket from the blue line, and he was screened by 2 Canucks and one of his own men. Another goal he had no chance on, but still frustrating for him nonetheless.

Silence falls over the building.

This is the moment you wish were in your seats. To be closer to Fred. When he would take his helmet off for a drink maybe he could find you in the stands. See you smiling back at him, or maybe he would just feel you there close to him.

Going into the third the Penguins need momentum, and they have it. Keeping the puck in the Canucks end for the majority of the first 10 minutes. Vancouver manages 1 shot and Pittsburgh 7. It’s the change of pace they needed. The momentum brings the fans back into but they are unable to execute on it.

You can almost hear a pin drop as the clock winds down, less than 5 remaining. That’s when Sid is fed the puck behind the defense and takes off on a breakaway.

He dekes left and back right drawing the goalie over. He fakes a shot and the goalie goes down only to flip it up off the crossbar and down. It lands on the goalies back bouncing off him and into the net.

The entire building erupts; yellow towels are being spun around the entire stadium.

This is what they needed. The fans back in it and a change in momentum leads to another quick goal and three minutes left in the game.

The next three minutes feel like 3 hours to you. You are on the edge of your seat, along with every other person in the building. Neither team scores and the game is off to overtime.

While the twins fell asleep, Oliver hasn’t. You hope he does soon, because at some point regardless of the outcome you and the kids will have to leave given the time, and you don’t want to have to deal with a meltdown when that comes during overtime.

One thing you know about overtime is anything can happen. One bad bounce, it can go off your own players skate, one miscue and everything is over.

There are no comebacks in overtime.

The Canucks chip the puck down to Pittsburgh end and everyone starts a change. Fred skates out to stop the puck for his defensemen only there isn’t one. Looking up ice he sees the rookie and sends the puck down. Skating in he takes the shot only to have it be saved, but the rebound is quickly lifted over the goalie and in the net.

Shock washes over you, as you sit in your seat. You don’t hear the horn or the entire stadium erupt, you don’t see the confetti fall from the ceiling. It’s not until Oliver jumps in your arms, pulling the air out of your chest that you realize it actually happened. You didn’t dream it.

Fred won the Stanley Cup.

“Daddy did it" he squeals as your arms tighten around him.

“He sure did" you feel tears prick your eyes.

Tears, hugs and laughter fill the press box, champagne being passed to those who can drink. Through your excitement and commotion you missed the handshakes, Vancouver having left the ice. You watch as the Cup is brought out and handed to Sidney for the fourth time.

It is handed around to the rookie next, the game winning goal scorer. Likely the next face of the organization when Sidney leaves.

And he, well he hands it to the man that fed him the puck. Fred.

You watch as he hoists the cup above his head. Charlotte and Ernst both have tears in their eyes, while Oliver’s face is lit up brighter than on Christmas morning. You feel a couple warm tears fall down your cheek when you hear Kathy in your ear “Let’s go.”

Scanning the room you realize everyone has filtered out, making the trek down to the ice. Once the cup has been passed around and the team photo complete the doors are opened and families begin to flood the ice.

“Daddy you won!” Oliver cheers when he picks him up, squeezing g him into his chest.

“I sure did" he chuckles giving his dad a hug.

“I’m so proud of you Frederik" Charlotte says pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks ma" he smiles setting Oliver down beside her.

He takes a few steps and your arms open, immediately you wrap your arms around his neck blocking the florescent lights from your eyes. His hair is soaked with sweat and covered with a “Stanley Cup champion" hat. His equipment makes him bigger than ever and his jersey smells of something you can’t even imagine.

But you don’t care.

Your fingers hold the back of his head and pull him down to you. He reaches around hands landing on the small of your back as your mouths collide.

It doesn’t start slow, he dives right in. You can taste the sweat on his lips, the Gatorade on his tongue. Tongue slipping inside and you moan into his mouth before he pulls away briefly to capture his breath.

“Don’t make baby number five tonight" you hear someone mumble but press back in, smirking through the kiss.

“Congratulations baby" you pull away for a second only to kiss him again. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you" he smiles kissing you again. “Or my four good luck charms.”

He pulls away and skates to the stroller. The twins having woken up with all the commotion are wide eyed taking in the sights while Elise still sleeps soundly.

Pulling the twins out he bounces them on his hips, pressing kisses into both of their short red hair. Neither has any idea what is going on but pick up on the energy and smile, Noah clapping in his hands.

“Let’s get a family picture” he smiles. Ernst grabs Elise and you Oliver. You grip on to Fred’s arm as he leads you out on the ice. It’s not that you aren’t a decent skater; it’s just different wearing shoes and holding a child.

Once out there you get situated and Fred skates away to help Charlotte. He comes back a couple minutes later with the rookie and the Stanley Cup. He sets the cup down in front and Fred gets his dad to set Elise gently in the cup, using some unused towels to cushion it for her.

“Is that necessary?” you laugh when Fred comes back beside you.

“Babe how many babies get pictures in there?” he laughs as the team photographer takes a few of just Elise. “Much better than those newborn pictures you had done a few weeks ago” he teases.

“That’s ridiculous” you say.

“I think it’s perfect” Fred says helping you get in position beside him and the cup.

“Me too daddy” Oliver claps.

“Two to one, you’re outvoted” he kisses you again before everyone gets set for the family pictures. The celebrations continue over the next little while, champagne passed around just as much as the Stanley Cup. Trying to safely maneuver on the ice becomes somewhat of a challenge, but you are happy you settled on a pair of converse instead of heels.

“We’re going to take the kids home" Charlotte wraps her arms around Fred and you next. Looking to the stroller you see all three kids are asleep and Oliver’s eyes are closed as he rests in Ernst’s arms. Some of the players have begun to filter off the ice, continuing the celebration in the locker room.

“Have fun tonight momma" Charlotte winks as Fred helps them off the ice.

Almost instantly Fred’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in tight against his chest protector. You wrap your arms around his neck, struggling to reach with the extra inches his skates give him. He picks you up and sets you on his boots bringing his hands finding the back of your thighs to hold you in place.

His lips find your neck as he peppers kisses pulling some moans from you. “Babe people can see" you say. While many fans have left and are likely celebrating in bars or in the streets, there is still a decent amount that has remained inside.

“Let them see" he mumbles. “I’m sure they can figure out why I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Babe" you warn as he kisses you below the collar of your jacket.

“Jump up" he whispers and you wrap your arms around him tightly, your legs around his waist as he skates off the ice towards the dressing room where some of the team is waiting.

“See you in a bit” he sets you down with a kiss before heading into the dressing room.

“Hey babe" Fred’s hands grip your hips to hold you steady as you walk directly into his chest.

“Hey champion" you smile looking up to him. His eyes are glossed over and red from the alcohol you can smell it on him. Or do you smell it on yourself?

He grips your hips digging his hands gently into your cool and damp skin, chuckling slightly at your words. It’s only mid-June but Mario has the pool heater on for a party in the backyard. It’s warm in the water but once out the cool night air sends a slight chill through your body.

Fred lifts you in the air eliciting a slight squeal from your lips. Spinning you both 180°C he sets you back down with a kiss on the cheek. With a smirk he walks back into the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sure you could have found your way back” he teases opening the door to see you in the bedroom waiting for him. A dark smile crosses your face and you put your hands on his chest backing him into the bathroom.

“Babe" he groans as you turn the lock on the door.

Wordlessly your mouth finds his neck, sucking lightly to taste the chlorine on his skin. Your hand begins to trail down his body running over his dripping swim trunks. The wet fabric clinging to every muscle of his lower body. Your hand presses down his hips to his thick thighs before palming over him a few times.

“(Y/N)” he warns but that only encourages you. You rub over his member and drag your teeth along his neck, Fred chuckling at your determination.

“We can’t do this here" he pushes your hips so your flatfooted pulling you from his neck.

“We fucked in Sid’s bathroom at a Halloween party" you move to his chest placing open mouth kisses on him gently sucking on his warm skin.

“That was my captain’s house, this is the owners” he gasps as your teeth sink into his chest. “And we were trying to make a baby then" he groans as you feel him start to harden under your hand.

“Well" you rise back to your tippy toes wrapping both arms around his neck. You press your hips forward, his hard member pressing into your stomach “my fiancé just won the Stanley Cup and I want to celebrate.” You place kisses along his neck and jaw between each word, Fred taking a sharp exhale.

“We are celebrating, hence the party.” You can hear the music and muffled laughter through the open window. You can’t make out what is happening but you can tell everyone is enjoying themselves from the loud laughter and cheers.

“I was thinking a more private celebration was in order” you lean forward your mouth centimeters from his ear “one with me on my knees.”

Danish curse words fall from his lips as you quirk an eyebrow up at him. Both your hands find the string tied around his waist and undo the knot, a wide grin on your face. While this behaviour isn’t entirely in character for you, after a few drinks you tend to get a little frisky. Something Fred has always been in favour of.

“Fuck du er utrolig (you’re unbelievable)” he mumbles as you slide fingers under the waist band of his trunks.

“You love it" you mumble kissing his chest, slowly trailing your way down his body. You leave soft kisses in your wake, ensuring not to leave a trail of marks for when you return to the party.

You push the fabric off his thighs, the wet fabric landing harshly against the floor as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. He steps out of them and you lands on your knees in the puddle of cold water that has been dripping off him onto the marble floors.

His pink tip is throbbing inches from your face as you stroke it up and down his shaft a few times. The precum glistens in the light and you press your tongue to the back of your teeth with a soft moan. You swallow your saliva flicking your eyes up to meet him. His pupils are blown as he watches you slowly stroke up and down, your other hand gently grazing over his thigh.

Your tongue darts between your parted lips, wetting them

Your mouth finds his thighs, placing soft open mouth kisses on his thighs. Your mouth moves to his hard member placing a few kisses on his shaft. You feel him twitch faintly at the contact before your mouth moves back to suck on his hips and pelvis.

“Babe" he groans after a few minutes of you toying with him “we don’t have time for this.”

While you know everyone is busy and won’t notice your absence you don’t want to keep him waiting. “You’re right. You deserve it” you wink.

Your mouth wraps around his tip, tongue licking up the precum that has oozed out. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip a couple times before your mouth wraps around him.

“Fuck (Y/N)” Fred groans as you bob up and down on him a few times. Hollowing your mouth for him you take him deeper every time, before he hits the back of your throat.

His hands tangle in your hair pulling it from your face as the other leans against the counter. You look up at him through your lashes, watching as his eyes snap shut. One hand gently rakes up his thigh, the other reaching around to his ass.

His skin is cold and damp as you give him a soft squeeze pulling his hips closer to you and he laughs slightly. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead as you stare up through your lashes taking him further.

“Fred" you hum around him.

His eyes open and finds yours, smiling at the sight of you on your knees. You pull off him with a pop, some saliva dribbling down your chin.

“Fuck my face" you almost hear his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“You’re amazing" he brings his other hand to your chin cupping it lightly. “Absolutely amazing" he strokes over your jaw before pressing it down to open your mouth for him.

You feel his hard dick fall on your tongue as his hips rock forward slightly. Your mouth wraps around him again while he pulls back. He slowly repeats the action a few times grinning as his cock disappears into your mouth.

You’re eyes find his and he smirks before snapping his hips thrusting into your mouth. You cough choking on him and he eases up slightly. You moan slightly, your throat relaxing around him. Your hands give his ass a soft squeeze, giving him the encouragement to increase his pace yet again.

One of his large hands in your hair gripping your neck the other cupping your jaw he thrusts in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust.

Tears prick your eye as saliva dribbles down your chin. Staring at Fred through glazed lenses you see his are dark with fire, loving the sight of you on your knees. Your hand tightens its grip on his ass as his tightens in your hair digging into your scalp.

The fire between your legs is ignited, and if it wasn’t for the fact you opted to wear a one piece bathing suit you would slip some fingers down your bottoms into your folds.

Every thrust of his hips is calculated with purpose. You feel in your heat, wanting nothing more than for him to pull out and bend you over the counter. Pound in to you from behind while you grasp the porcelain for stability, but you know that won’t happen here.

Besides the fact you are at the owner’s house with his entire team, you also haven’t had your six week check-up. Some Fred is adamant you get before he does anything. Sex during the playoffs was always limited, reserved for days when a series has ended and they have a few days off before their next opponent. He never has come home after a playoff game when he has another in 2 or 3 days and had sex, but on occasion he has fingered you, especially if you find time to join him in the shower.

But this year has been nothing. He insists you wait until your appointment, and no amount of pleading has helped. If the sight of you on your knees while he fucks your mouth isn’t enough for him to slide between your dripping heat than nothing is.

You can feel him getting sloppy, as his hips stutter. Muttered Danish curse words fill the bathroom as his dick twitches. He holds your head on him, shooting warm ribbons down your throat. When he pulls out some saliva mixed with cum spills out on your chin and down to your chest, landing on the curve of your breast.

Holding a hand out he helps you to your feet before pulling his trunks back up his legs. You wipe the sides of your mouth, cleaning his cum from your face. You scan the bathroom for a cloth to wipe the smeared lipstick from your face “I can’t believe I just gave a Stanley Cup Champion a blow job.”

You hear him chuckle while he brings two fingers on your chest. He wipes the cum from your chest, cleaning your skin before bringing his fingers to your mouth. You open for him and wrap your lips around him. He groans as you swirl your tongue around his thick digits. Pulling them out he wipes them on your bathing suit “thank you" you smile.

“Mmm tak baby pige" (thank you babygirl)” he hums in your ear before sucking gently on your neck. You feel his lips curl against your skin as he places warm open mouth kisses on your exposed skin.

The cool night air blowing through the window against your damp skin and Fred’s soft touch causes goosebumps to erupt on you. You shiver and press yourself into his chest, his warm arms quickly wrapping around you.

“I love you" he whispers in your ear. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so happy in five weeks you get to be my wife.”

Your hands reach around him running up his back, you lean your head back to glance into his eyes. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

“We can run off to Vegas, you could be my wife in a few hours” he smiles as you shake your head remembering a night a few weeks ago.

It was about two weeks before Charlotte came to Pittsburgh and you had a particularly rough day of wedding planning. Since she was visiting a lot of the vendors on your behalf in Denmark, you wanted to have everything in order before she left. You could still talk with the planner after that, but you found it easier having Charlotte there to see things in person and give her honest opinion.

Trying to coordinate with the florist you thought everything was set up perfectly until Charlotte went to see the mock ups and they were not even close to what you thought. And then she told you that you booked the photographer for the wrong date and they weren’t actually available on your wedding day. It was disaster after disaster and you were uncomfortable from the pregnancy.

When Fred came home at 3am he tried to be soft and quiet crawling in to bed beside you. But the bed shifting and your uneasy sleep caused you to stir and wake up. You immediately broke down in his arms, the stress of everything unravelling in front of you sending you over the edge.

Fred tried to convince you to push the wedding back to the following summer, give you more time to plan. Said you could use this summer to go out and see everything and then next year you could just show up, everything already planned. He was worried about the stress you were putting on yourself to get it done, especially since you were pregnant.

But you told him you didn’t want to wait another year to get married. You said you were going to have four kids soon and just wanted it to be official. At that point you didn’t even care if you had flowers, a cake or a photographer, you just wanted to be his wife.

That was when he suggested eloping; he had an optional skate the next day and said you could run to the courthouse.

“I already see you as my wife, but we can make it official tomorrow" he whispered in your ear as his hand ran over your bump. “Tell no one or tell everyone I don’t care. Let’s get married now.”

“Mkay” you hum as he kissed your neck.

“Yeah baby you actually want to” he pulled back with a big smile.

“Well we we’re planning in being married in the summer what’s a few months” you smiled as his lips press down to yours. “We could still have a reception this summer, but might take away some stress if we go into it already married.”

Not wanting to have to rebook everything and lose the deposits (which you know he could care less about) you thought it could alleviate some pressure going into the day already married. Maybe the details wouldn’t matter as much this way.

But when you woke up the next day you had a change of heart and decided to wait until the summer as planned, but now it’s become a running joke with you two.

“I can wear my Andersen jacket" you smile as he closes the gap, his lips brushing against yours.

“You look so good with my name on your back, can’t wait until it’s your name too" he growls lowly as you feel your core ignite. You chuckle to disguise your moan as his voice vibrates off your skin. Your legs rub together slight and you push him off you slightly “we should get back” you whisper knowing every second you stay in there it will be harder for you to walk away. You turn around to face the mirror, fixing your bathing suit and hair as his hands rest against your hips.

“So that’s a no on getting married tonight?” he chuckles against your collarbone.

“Yeah" you sigh. “You can wait a few more weeks.”

“I don’t want to” he mumbles sucking hard on your neck.

“Frederik" you scold. He tilts his head to look at you in the mirror. His eyes are dark as he sucks again on your neck not breaking eye contact. Your eyes go wide, as your stern mom look comes across your face causing him to let up and chuckle.

“I’m not scared of your mom look babe" he kisses your neck again. “It actually turns me on.” He presses into you, pushing you into the counter “and you know calling me Frederik gets me hard.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you whimper slightly.

“Well I am heading back out to the party “you smirk wrangling out of his embrace. You hold a hand out for him “let’s go Mr. Andersen.”

You watch as he takes a deep breath closing his eyes for a second. He opens them shaking his head slightly before grabbing your hand and heading out together. Once in the hall you run into Sid and Kathy, actually run into them coming out of a bathroom together.

“What were you doing" you tease seeing the flushed look on her face.

“I’m gonna guess the same thing as you" she smirks.

“She’s four and a half months pregnant, can’t help it" Sid laughs walking up behind her, putting his hands on her hips as he guides her down the hall as she giggles like a teenager. While this is unusual behaviour for Sidney he is normally more reserved but you know it has to do with the hours of drinking.

“Four and a half months was a fun time" Fred mumbles in your ear.

Laughing you pull him closer so his chest is against your back as you make your way outside.

The music is just as loud as before, and the guests even more intoxicated than before you left. Fred gives your ass a light squeeze before jumping in the pool while you find some of the girls by the bar, pouring yourself a drink.

Fred shoots you a wink as you take a sip. After Sid and Kathy’s wedding you had a few glasses of wine at dinner before discovering you were pregnant. But tonight is the first night you have had a drank since Sid and Kathy’s wedding, and really the first time in over two and half years. For that reason you should take it easy, your body likely unable to handle alcohol like it used to. You’ve had three drinks since getting here plus the champagne at the arena but it doesn’t stop you from pouring a shot.

You don’t know if it’s the lingering glances over the rim of his whiskey glass, the not too subtle winks and smirks Fred sends your way or the alcohol coursing through your body. But there is heat in your cheeks and core; a dizziness in your head.

Waking up the next morning, you are in an unfamiliar bed. The pillows are softer than normal and duvet not as comfortable. You blink a few times allowing your eyes to adjust. The room is dark; except for some light filtering through the few inches the curtains are open. The room in unfamiliar but the simple décor indicates it’s a hotel.

You blink a few times adjusting to the light before continuing to look around. Your eyes land on Fred beside you lying on his stomach. He is lying topless, his red hair a mess on the pillow, his chest slowly rising and falling as he snores softly. The sheet is hung low on his hips, his broad arm wrapped under the pillow.

Pulling the duvet back you wander to the bathroom, the clock catches your eye. 11:42 illuminated in red.

“Fuck” you groan seeing yourself in the mirror. It seems like you attempted to wash your makeup off but failed and your hair is an absolute mess. You look around the room for a brush but there isn’t one but you settle on washing the remaining makeup off your face.

“Hey" Fred smiles when you walk back in, “nice hair” he laughs.

“I don’t know where a brush is" you grumble crawling back in to the bed not having a hair elastic either.

“Yeah I thought a hotel would be nice so we could sleep in, but we didn’t have a bag packed” he pulls you in against his chest. His skin is warm and you can still smell the alcohol on him.

“Yeah sleep is nice" you laugh knowing the kids would have woken you a long time ago. Even if they were kept from the room you would have heard their laughter or cries at some point.

“When did we leave the party?"

“Around 4…after your fifth shot" he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

“How do you feel?” he asks as you groan.

“Like a nap or a shower. I don’t actually know"

“Let’s shower, get it out of our systems and then maybe nap or food.”

He crawls out of bed starting the shower before returning to get you, carrying you to the bathroom. You would protest him carrying you the twenty feet but he would feed you some line about being a hockey player. But you know he just wants to take care of you, and honestly today you don’t mind it.

He sets you on the floor pulling his t-shirt off your body and you shiver in response, your nipples getting hard from the cool air. Your arms cross over your stomach hiding your stretch marks. Once his boxers are off and he turns his attention to you a scowl crosses his face as you look away.

“Baby you look beautiful" he brings his hands to your elbows but doesn’t pull them down as you look away.

“Babe look at me" he hums in your ear. You turn to face him, tears having hit your eyes. With a sigh he pulls you into his chest, a hand finding your neck tangling in your hair.

“Why are you crying?” his chin is resting on your head.

“I don’t know" you say through some light sobs. “Because I had a baby six weeks ago.”

“Sure that’s it?” his other hand runs up and down your spine. The steam from the shower begins to fill the room warming your body. Fred has spent the majority of the time with you while you’re pregnant or post-partum. Because of this he has grown accustom to you crying randomly and without cause, but he can also tell when there is a reason to your tears. And he knows you are lying about this.

“I don’t know" you mumble turning to the mirror though you can’t see anything through the fogged glass. “Sometimes I just hate how I look. Stretch marks, extra weight” being around some of the other woman who have had kids and look amazing the night before didn’t help. That’s why you opted for a one piece instead of a bikini; something you would never admit.

Fred pulls you back against his chest, stopping you from examining yourself.

“Babe I don’t see any of those things. All I see is an amazing badass woman that brought our babies into this world. I was never with you for your looks" he pulls a hand from you to tilt your head to look at him.

“Thanks” you whine as a strangled sob catches in your throat even though you know that’s not how he intended it to come across.

“That’s not what I meant” he groans. “You are absolutely breathtaking, but it’s not why I’m with you or why I love you. “I love you for your big heart and the fact that when I’m with you nothing else matters. I can be having the absolute worst day and I see your face, even if it’s just a picture on my phone, and I know everything will be okay.”

You smile lightly at that as a few tears roll slowly down your cheek. “But my favourite thing is when one of our babies smile at me. I’m not sure about Elise yet but the boys they all have your smile.”

He wipes a few tears from your eyes “I love you and the fact that you gave me four perfect babies. If you want to go to the gym and get what you want your body to look like I’ll be behind you. 100%. But you are only doing that for you, because I think you are perfect and amazing just the way you are okay?”

You know he is right, but it’s hard for you. After having Oliver it wasn’t as hard to find time to go to the gym or to take Oliver for walks and the occasional run. But with four kids you find you free time few and far between. On top of that your body changed so much after being pregnant with twins.

With all your insecurities and struggles Fred has always encouraged you, never missing an opportunity to tell you how beautiful you are. Some days you find it hard to see what he does, today being one of those days.

“Looks can fade babe, but your compassion and empathy, your beautiful smile…none of that will.”

You nod slightly and rise on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips “love you" you whisper before pressing your lips back on him. He pulls you in to him as your tongue slides into him, tasting the alcohol that remains in his mouth.

“Let’s go" he pulls away stepping into the shower where you immediately wrap your arms around his lower back tilting your head to him. He smiles at you through his golden brown eyes before closing the gap. What starts as a few soft pecks turns into your tongues lazily dancing through each other’s mouths.

“Babe" he moans pulling away to catch his breath. Water is dripping from his hair through his long beard and onto his chest, before finding the curve of his abs and falling down his thighs. It’s a sight you don’t get to see much of with four kids, but one you never tire of.

He pushes you back against the cold tile wall, his hands gently resting on your hips as his tongue slides back in your mouth. Your hands tangle in his beard, gripping it to hold him against you.

“Jeg elsker dig så meget (I love you so much)” he mumbles against your lips. A smile spreads across yours as you whisper affirmations back to him.

Your arms fully around his neck, he spins you again to be back under the stream of the water “we need to shower so we can nap" he mumbles but makes no effort to pull away from you. His hands randomly slide down to your ass to give you a soft squeeze before it trails back up your spine into your hair.

Each soft squeeze causes you to pull away with laughter, something you have grown to love about your relationship. No moment is too serious for you both. After a few more minutes you reluctantly pull away only because your skin is beginning to wrinkle from the moisture and you have yet to begin showering.

Once showered he wraps a plush towel around you, watching in the mirror as him arms rub up and down the towel to dry your body. You watch as the droplets go down his chest, over the curves of his abs and down to his member.

“You’re unbelievable” he jokes kissing your cheek pulling your gaze up to his eyes.

He is smirking at you as you swallow dryly “you know it’s been six weeks…” You turn around and lean against the counter watching as he wraps a towel low on his waist.

“Mhm you told me that” he steps closer placing a hand on either side of you pinning you “many times last night.”

You feel your core heat up as he leans in, his lips millimetres from your ear. “Did I?” you ask not remembering.

“Mhm” he kisses your collarbone drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. “And I told you last night” he mumbles between pressing soft kisses on your skin. “I told you I wanted to wait until after your doctor appointment.”

He continues to pepper kisses on your neck and shoulder. “I’m on birth control” you say breathlessly causing him to pull his head up and look at you with a dark grin.

“Elskede, you know I don’t care about birth control, I love seeing you pregnant.” He falls into the crook of your neck; his breath is warm but still pulls goosebumps to the surface. “I love having babies with you, and watching this belly grow. I love feeling the little kicks against your stomach and seeing you as a mom. Fuck I get hard just thinking of it" he growls.

“If you came to me in a month, a year, or even five years and said you wanted another baby I’m all in 110%.”

“Fred" you groan pushing him up by the shoulder to look at him shaking your head. “With that being said I know you don’t want any more which is why I have zero doubt you’re on birth control.”

“You were a foot away as the doctor put my IUD in" you laugh.

“Sorry for being distracted by our newborn baby girl" he smiles briefly. “I’m not saying no because of birth control, I’m saying no because I want to make sure everything is all good down there first.”

“Fine” you huff. Your six week appointment was originally scheduled for the same day as game 4 but you decided to push it until after the playoffs would be over and things would calm down. Now you are really regretting that decision to wait.

“Now let’s nap.”

“Babe" you pout as he pulls his shirt over your head.

“We’ve gone six weeks what’s a few more days?" he kisses your cheek and pulls you by the hand to the bed. You crawl in beside him, rubbing your legs together for some relief, unsure if you can wait a few more days.

“You’ll be fine" he laughs pulling you into his chest, running his hands through your hair.

“I don’t understand how a few days makes a difference” you huff staring at the ceiling. “It’s been six weeks already.”

“Yeah you said that last night too" he laughs against your temple. “You were very insistent”

“I don’t remember that” you sigh.

“Mhm, another reason I forced you to sleep" he tilts your head to look at you. “You know I’ll take care of you, just have to make sure everything is good first.”

You smile and pull him down brushing your lips against him. “I love you for taking care of me” his lips press against your once more before he adjusts beside you.

You feel his breathing steady, his chest slowing as he begins to doze off, but you aren’t as fortunate. After waiting six weeks everything Fred does has you practically dripping and that shower did not relax you. Instead it had the opposite effect.

If it wasn’t the long make out session, the naked man with water dripping down his chiseled body certainly did it.

A loud exaggerated sigh leaves your lips. “What" he murmurs eyes not opening.

“I can’t sleep, you look too good naked” you groan rolling onto your side to brush some hair from his eyes.

“So do you babe" his eyes are still closed but he is grinning at you.

“Fredddd" you whine causing his eyes to open, his brown eyes are dark and heavy with sleep.

“What can I do babe?” he asks clearing his throat, running his index finger down your spine. “Want a tea? A massage? Just go home and try to nap in our bed?”

“No" you sigh. “Tell me a story. It always works for the boys.”

“Yeah and they are babies" he laughs as you shoot him a soft smile. “I can tell you one about a train, or about a lost baby bear.”

“No, tell me about how you knew I was the one.”

“That’s the story you want?”

“Yeah" you beam resting your head on his bicep to use as a pillow.

“When did you know I was it for you" you curl into his embrace. The bright afternoon sun still filtering through the cracked curtains.

“Long before you did" he laughs wrapping his arms around you as you roll on top of him, straddling one of his thighs.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you lift the oversized shirt above your hips, pressing your bare core against his thigh. Your grab a handful of your shirt holding it a few inches above your core to keep it out of the way.

“Babe” he groans as you roll your hips feeling the wetness on his leg. You are happy you didn’t put your underwear on after your shower, otherwise you’d have to wear them home drenched.

“Not every orgasm has to involve penetration” you bring your hand to push his boxers further up his thighs giving you more space.

“I know that” he laughs finding your waist with his hands. You expect him to push you off, telling you to wait, but to your surprise he pulls you down harder against his firm muscle.

“Well I need to cum” you roll your hips again. “This is the only way for me to get what I want and for you to be okay with it.”

He shakes his head, his hands grasping your bare skin. You release your shirt and it falls onto his wrists as you rock back and forth on him. One hand lands on his lower stomach for leverage while your head falls back.

“Now I believe you were telling me a story” you smirk “about how I’m the one for you.”

He pulls his chapped lower lip through his teeth shaking his head at you before giving in. “Honestly I saw glimpses of it long before I knew” his nails dig into your skin.

“So Denmark when you were pregnant with Ollie, he kicked for the first time" you both smile remembering the day. “Everything stopped when you kissed me and I remember thinking I would do anything for you and not because you’re Ollie’s mom.”

A light sigh falls from your lips before he continues. “Honestly it confused me, I had never had any feelings like that before towards you, or any I allowed myself to admit so it really threw me off.”

“That’s why when we got back to the hotel you made love to me” you moan. “Soft and slow.”

Instead of answering Fred just ignores your comment “then I guess that first all-star break, when we went away without Oliver.”

“Fuck" you grumble under your breath slowing your hips. That and everything that transpired over the next ten months you wish you could change.

“That whole day it was the best day, actually both days were amazing. That massage I gave you by the roaring fire…”

“I had the longest shower after that night” you mumble resuming your pace. You press your hips down further, coating him in some of your wetness.

“Same” he laughs. “But the second night…the wine, music just everything was perfect. Waking up beside you after that night I just couldn’t believe I had you. Like I saw the three of us could be a being a family. I was so happy…and then you broke my heart into a million pieces the next day.”

A frown comes over you stop rocking your hips. Fred laughs lightly before continuing “then you moved out and kissed some guy in a bar back in Toronto and I remember thinking she must not be the one for me, because if you were…”

“I wouldn’t have done that” your head turns away and you try to climb off but he continues to hold you on his thick thigh.

“Babe you know this story has a happy ending” he smirks rolling your hips. He grabs one of your hands and presses your index finger into your clit with some soft circles before you take over increasing the pace. Once you take over the pace he continues with his story.

“Anyways I kept telling myself if you were the girl for me you wouldn’t have done that. Everyone told me you weren’t the girl for me; you were the girl who would help me find the girl.”

“The one you’re with before you find your wife"

“Yeah but I didn’t fully believe them. I tried to distract myself, heading to Denmark for a week, dating Danielle" you’re nose scrunches up hearing her name.

“But it was hard. Every time I saw you I got these little butterflies and I wanted to kiss you so bad. I just kept telling myself not to fall into bed with you, that if I did, I’d end up back where I was only a few months before. And I did so good for two months…

Then my birthday came, and then Ollie’s. We just kept ending up in bed together and every time I said it was the last time. Then came your birthday and Thanksgiving and I knew I was falling and I started to think that you were too. I started to see something in you that made me think maybe it was more than just hookups.

But then that day at the tree farm, that day I knew you had feelings for me” he trails off and you smile remembering that day, the butterflies you felt but were too afraid to admit. That morning when you opened the door after his road trip you realized just how much you had missed him; something you hadn’t noticed before.

Fred grins up at you and begins to move your hips, pulling you down on his thigh. His hands dig deep into your flesh leaving crescent shaped marks as you press faster and harder circles into your clit.

“We fell in the snow, I was pinning you down" he laughs bucking his hips up as you gasp from the feeling. “Nose was red from the cold and you smiled up at me well I was going to do anything to get you. Just had to get rid of your boy toy Connor” he mocks his name.

“He wasn’t my boy toy” you groan unable to laugh as you feel your orgasm building deep in your stomach. Having gone so long without one you know it will engulf you when it finally comes.

“Anyways New Year’s Eve came around and he fucked up leaving you at my door looking absolutely phenomenal.” He groans feeling your wetness on his leg as your folds flutter against his muscle. He knows your climax is near when your nails dig into his hard chest.

“And you thought damn she’d make a hot wife” you joke and he just shakes his head laughing. Your other hand slides up his chest, finding a few beads of sweat.

“Actually the next morning was when I had the moment. I woke up before you. You were sleeping on the other side of the bed, in my t-shirt, snoring lightly"

“I do not snore" you groan feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Breathing deeply" he corrects. “Ollie was still asleep so I just lay there watching you sleep for a few minutes. You looked so prefect and peaceful. The sun was shining on your face and your hair was an absolute mess.

“Fred" you groan laughing as you bounce on his thigh.

“No babe, like you’re beautiful no matter what. But your hair, fuck it was a disaster” he explains with a laugh. “Between the curls and the hairspray it was everywhere. Like this morning” he smirks.

“You’re the worst" you laugh, your jaw falling open as a loud deep moan slips out.

“Well I reached over to brush some behind your ears and startled you. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled when you saw me, then your eyes closed and you cuddled up against me. You pulled my arm over your body and fell back asleep in my arms and that was it. I just knew I had to wake up beside you every morning after that.”

He continues to move your hips flexing his thigh as your moans before louder and erratic. He knows you are getting close and holds you down onto his firm thigh while you continue to rock above him. A choked groan leaves your lips and your coil snaps your warm release spilling onto his leg.

He mutters a few curse words below you watching the white coat his chiseled thigh. He continues to do the work for you as your body tenses under your long awaited release; rocking you as complete bliss fills your body. Finally you stop moving and fall onto his chest in a state of complete euphoria; his hand rests on the small of your back.

“So you waited over five months to make a move" you tease having recaptured your breath.

“Well I had to take it slow, you spook easy. Like a deer" he laughs.

You smile wide rolling your eyes slightly but don’t bother objecting. “It’s okay you’re my Bambi, I’d do anything for you.

Later that day you were in the shower Allie called and I answered. She basically told me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I gave her my number, and she added me to a group chat with Carlee.”

“Oh my god that must have been terrible for you" you smirk pushing onto your elbow to look at him.

“It is terrible” he corrects you pressing you back onto the mattress. “We still have it, but now it’s mostly random stuff. Sending them pictures of the kids, Carlee mostly just sends memes of goats for some reason” he laughs slightly. “But one time I was buying you a present and I had it narrowed down to two options, sent pictures to the chat and had about a million messages over the next 3 days” you laugh along with him.

“I never asked for their help again. But before we got together they helped me figure out what you meant and wanted. They made sure I didn’t do anything stupid or say something to scare you off again. When I had doubts because you were so closed off, or you would stay at your apartment alone instead of with Oliver and I they would reassure me. They would tell me things like keep doing what you’re doing or she really liked when you did blank. So without telling me how you felt or what you saying about me they helped.

I think we would have got here without them. But they helped, let me know I was on the right track.”

“I wasn’t that bad" you groan.

Fred laughs pressing his lips against yours. Your hand slides up his chest into his beard, gently running your hands through it while his tongue slides inside your mouth. You open your mouth to allow him further entrance but he pulls back slightly.

“When did you know?” he asks against your lips “that I was the one?”

“I knew that night in Toronto when I joined you on your road trip. Looking back it happened before that night, I mean you already had a key to my place. But when I called you my boyfriend at the bar…that was when it was real. I didn’t meant to call you my boyfriend, but it felt natural and right and that’s when I finally admitted it to myself.”

“Oh it took so much willpower to not tell you I loved you then" he brings a large smile to your lips. “But I knew you were already overthinking the fact you called me your boyfriend so I held back. Didn’t want to make it worse and send you running.”

“Well now you get to tell me all the time" you smile down at him.

“Mmmm and I plan on it every. Single. Day.” He presses his lips against yours in between each word, each kiss a little more firm.

“You feeling better?” he asks a few minutes later his eyes are heavy and barely open.

“Yeah” you brush your lips against his.

“All taken care of” he mumbles “satisfied?”

“Yeah babe” you smile wide though his eyes are closed and he can’t see.

“Night elskede” he mumbles through a raspy voice, barely getting the words out before he begins snoring beside you.

Next Chapter

#because two people got drunk fic #fredzilla #frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #Fred Andersen Fic #fred andersen x reader #nhl fic #nhl smut

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

In Your Shadow

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

Random thing that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it, so here it is. Missed half a very important meeting because I lost track of time writing this, whoops... More Scott&Gordon because I will die on this hill.

“Tomorrow, they’re not gonna say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’ Tomorrow, they’re gonna say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’”

The lights were off in his brother’s room, but that meant nothing. Scott had been sent to bed by the combined parental force of Grandma and Dad, and Gordon knew for a fact that John had been recruited to freeze all his electronics to make sure he didn’t sit up doing something all night instead of sleeping. So, if Gordon didn’t miss his guess, Scott was going to be staying up all night doing nothing, just staring blankly at the ceiling, the wall, the view out the window, and working himself up about tomorrow.

There had been straws pulled between them to decide behind Dad’s back who went in and knocked some sense into him. Gordon won. Gordon may have rigged the whole thing, but Virgil’s suspicious brown eyes could prove nothing. This was something he needed to do.

Sure enough, as he slunk into the room, door shutting silently behind him (he’d had years of practice on that one), the body on the bed first rolled over, then sat up as Scott identified him in the dark (Scott had had years of practice at that).

“Gordon? Is something wrong?”

And still he worried before being suspicious. Any of his other brothers would be looking for the prank right about now, but Scott’s default would always be concern for him before concern to himself. Gordon rolled his eyes and padded silently over to the bed, poking Scott until he moved over. He did, arm shooting out to wrap around his shoulders the way he always did when Gordon had a nightmare.

Gordon was man enough to admit that the last time wasn’t as long ago as maybe people thought, but that wasn’t the reason tonight and he dodged the arm, catching it and using the opportunity of catching Scott off guard to roll his brother over onto his side.

“Gordon?”

Before he could roll back, Gordon dove onto the bed, wedging himself behind him and wrapping his arms around his biggest brother tightly, burying his face in the back of Scott’s neck and feeling his brother tense up.

“Gordon, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, Scott,” he started, voice still low so no Dad or Grandma caught him – there may have been some implications that all of them were to leave Scott alone tonight – even though John was supposedly running interference to make sure they didn’t. “When did you last celebrate your own achievements?”

The concerned set of his brother’s shoulders gave way to a confused one instead. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t remember so much as a graduation party when you finished college,” Gordon pointed out. He didn’t mention the medals, locked away in storage where Scott refused to look at them. Those didn’t count.

Scott didn’t answer, and Gordon decided against voicing the observation that Scott hadn’t celebrated any of his own achievements since the Zero-X. This would be the first one, and he was all too aware that the only reason Scott wasn’t ducking out of it was because Dad wouldn’t let him.

“John had one,” he said instead. “You didn’t let him escape it.”

“John graduated early with the highest grades in the university’s history,” Scott pointed out, and Gordon huffed.

“And you were top of your class.” He’d checked the records before coming in. “How did you even talk Grandma out of it?”

“What are you trying to say, Gordon?” That was a non-answer if ever he heard one. Gordon squinted at the back of his brother’s neck but let it slide. For now.

“John’s graduations,” he started. “John’s books. Virgil’s graduation. Virgil’s art shows and piano recitals. My acceptance into WASP. My medals. Alan’s everything.” There had been a lot of parties for the youngest – getting his pilot’s license, youngest astronaut in history, anything Scott could remotely justify. “You haven’t let any of us miss a single achievement. But yours…” he trailed off meaningfully, but Scott was still tense in his hold and didn’t say a word.

Gordon sighed.

“Your achievements matter too, bro,” he said. “Stop skulking in the shadows and directing the limelight onto us all the time.”

Scott made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. It sounded sad and a little pathetic.

“You guys do so much,” he said. “I’m proud of you. All four of you.”

Aha.

“And we’re proud of you,” Gordon retorted. “That’s why you’re not getting out of tomorrow.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Scott protested. “I-” Gordon cut him off with a scoff.

“You piloted that jet. You broke the airspeed record. Professor Kwark is getting her dues for designing it – you know you’re not taking anything away from her achievements so stop pretending you think you are – but you piloted it.”

“Because she asked me to,” Scott pointed out, and Gordon rolled his eyes. “She could have chosen anyone.”

“And she chose the best damn pilot in the world like a sensible woman, and don’t even try and tell me anyone else would have even been a consideration.” Gordon jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “Her own attempt last year ended in disaster, so she picked the most experienced high-speed pilot in the world for the next one. Sounds like a smart decision to me.” Scott was gearing up for another counter-argument; he could feel it in the way his chest tensed. “They didn’t have to pick me for the Olympics,” he continued, switching to the reason he had absolutely rigged the straws to be the one in the room.

When it came to wrangling Scott, Virgil was definitely the most experienced, with John hot on his heels. But Virgil and John weren’t world record holders. Gordon was.

“You were the best in the team,” Scott immediately shot back. “They’d have been daft not to pick you.”

Exactly, but Gordon didn’t say that, just waited for Scott to realise he’d cornered himself. It didn’t take long, shoulders slumping with a fondly exasperated sigh.

“That’s different,” Scott tried to argue. “You still had to beat the other seven swimmers.”

“And you still had to beat the record.” Gordon shot that argument back down.

“The jet-”

“Would not have beat the record if I was piloting it. Hell, if Virgil was piloting it. Even Alan’s not that good, Scott.” He squeezed his ridiculously stubborn brother tighter, a grin slipping onto his face as Scott let out a quiet oof. “That was all you, Scott, and I know you know it, despite what you’re trying to tell me.”

Scott didn’t say anything for several moments, and Gordon didn’t break the silence even if he pressed closer to his brother’s back. He knew what it was like, those few hours – days, weeks, even – after breaking a world record. The state of disbelief that he’d actually done it. Scott had stepped out of what they had nicknamed Icarus II (not actually called that, after the original Icarus had proven too close to its namesake, but Gordon didn’t really care for the jet’s actual name) less than twenty-four hours earlier, breathing hard from the adrenaline and excitement of Mach 23.8 to congratulations and jubilation from Professor Kwark’s team and his family. What he’d actually managed hadn’t properly sunk in yet, but the official celebrations were tomorrow, complete with paparazzi from all over the world, and Scott was doing his best to escape it.

“…Why are you here, Gordon?”

Gordon was there to tell his brother he was being an idiot, and hammer it home that they were all ridiculously proud of their big brother for doing the thing they’d always known he would one day, and convince him it was okay to be proud of himself. He didn’t say that.

Each of his brothers always required a slightly different touch, and Scott needed to be caught off-guard. The head-on approach never worked; he just headbutted it back with twice the force because he was stubborn like that. Unless you were Virgil but Virgil could just keep throwing it back again with interest until he wore him down.

So instead, Gordon plucked at a different string – one of those little things Scott thought they didn’t know about but really didn’t hide that well once you knew how to look for it. They all knew.

“You know how many people I’ve heard complain about some ‘shadow’ their older siblings cast?” he asked, rhetorically. Scott froze so suddenly he could have sworn the temperature dropped a few degrees. “Whining on and on about how no matter what they do, their sibling’s always there, always the one everyone sees?”

Scott seemed to be holding his breath; even pressed up against him with his arms wrapped around his chest, Gordon couldn’t feel any rise and fall.

“Well, I don’t agree with that,” he said firmly.

“What?” He felt Scott startle, clearly not meaning to say anything but caught off-guard.

“I don’t agree,” he repeated. “You’ve never overshadowed us. Any of us. John’s got the books to prove it, Virgil’s got the paintings and recitals, I’ve got a gold freaking medal. Even Alan’s making his own name for himself in the gaming community and he’s a home-schooled kid most of the world has never seen out of uniform.”

“I-”

“How long have you been worrying about that?” Gordon asked, overriding whatever feeble attempt at disagreement Scott was about to make. “At least since the Zero-X. I know that for certain, but I bet it’s been longer.”

Scott didn’t answer, but he didn’t expect him to. Scott was annoying like that – he’d say everything you didn’t want him to, and nothing that you did. The answer was probably the first time he’d ever heard anyone mention something about an older sibling’s so-called ‘shadow’, anyway, knowing Scott.

“You know,” he said, fully aware that Scott didn’t know, because he was an idiot of a big brother who cared too much about them and not enough about himself, “sometimes I like sitting in your shadow.” Or John’s, or Virgil’s, but this conversation wasn’t about them.

Scott’s second startle was a full-body thing, a twitch topped off with a jerk of the head, but he still didn’t say anything.

“I doubt you get it, because you don’t have a big brother, but sometimes it’s nice lurking there,” he continued. “Here.” He pressed up against Scott’s back again, making sure Scott couldn’t possibly miss that he was plastered against him. “Maybe it’s because I know you’ll never try and keep me here and I can go wander into the spotlight whenever I like,” he admitted, “but I like it. The others do, too.” John and Virgil never left Scott’s so-called ‘shadow’ unless they had to, both content to do their own thing and let Scott handle the world while they handled Scott, and Gordon knew all four of them still found safety in their biggest brother even if they never said it in so many words.

“Gordon, what are you trying to say?” Scott asked. He sounded genuinely confused, and Gordon swallowed another sigh, because trust Scott to be a brilliant leader and fantastic big brother but not understand just how much they appreciated him.

“I’m saying that tomorrow, they’re not gonna look at me and say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’” he said bluntly. “Tomorrow, they’re gonna look at me and say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’” He grabbed a handful of Scott’s pyjamas and made a fist, right over his brother’s chest. “Because tomorrow is your day and I – we – are damn proud of you, Scott. So don’t you dare run away from this and try and put us in the limelight instead. Not this time.” Not any time it was Scott’s achievement, but Gordon was well aware that was too much of a push right now.

He’d just bring out the pep talks again, and again, and again, until Scott got the message.

Scott was silent, but his breathing was steady, Gordon’s fistful of fabric rising and falling with his chest, so he waited while his brother thought it through, looking for loopholes and – hopefully – finding none. Gordon didn’t think he’d left anything, but Scott could be slippery when he wanted to.

It was several minutes before he got a reaction, Scott making a decision like the commander he was. An arm moved, brushing against Gordon’s as it did, before a hand wrapped around his fist. The touch was firm and warm, but not restraining or trying to pry him off. Instead, it just stayed there, squeezing lightly before falling still.

“Thanks, Gordon.”

Victory.

“Any time, bro,” he grinned, wriggling around to get comfortable and throwing a leg over Scott’s, just because he could. “Now get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Voice of experience?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ just because he could, and because it always made Scott roll his eyes. “You’ll need all the sleep you can get.” He kicked the covers until he could reach them with the hand not grasping his brother’s top and pulled them up.

“Aren’t you going to go back to your room?” Scott sounded amused, with some put-on disgruntlement that Gordon ignored.

“Nah,” he dismissed, settling back down and wrapping his arm back around his brother again. “I’m comfy now.”

Scott laughed a little. They both knew Grandma and Dad had placed a ‘do not disturb’ order on Scott and that he was at least somewhat avoiding being caught sneaking back out. There wouldn’t be time to tell him off in the morning while they were rushing around ready for the party.

“Night, Gordon.”

“Night, big bro.” He burrowed down against his big brother’s back and closed his eyes, content that he’d got at least somewhere in pounding some truths into Scott’s stubborn head and genuinely comfortable where he was.

Sometimes, his big brother’s shadow was his favourite place to be.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #in your shadow #thunderfluff

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having-a-hyperfixate · 3 years

Text

Secret Reports

Gonna just edit this thing and put line breaks as I get more of them.

I’m also working on the rest of the completion, and will probably wander off in the middle of this to do Another Day, which will probably have its own post. I fully expect that to be sheer madness.

#1 So is it just me or is Mr H writing these reports to channel how extremely stressed he is. Cuz like. Mood. *gestures vaguely at blog* *gestures at this post specifically*

I. Hold up. Skeezy McFuckwad and Joshua did what resulting in which now. Excuse me. EXPLAIN!??! Joshua had a sneaky Game running with Skeezy that directly lead to Hazuki ordering Skeezy to destroy Shinjuku??? Is that what I am reading. Or possibly the order was already in the works, and then there was the Game, which ultimately just pushed that forward?? You can’t just say shit like that and not give details ffffffff.

#2 Mr H having about as much contempt for Shinjuku rules as I do I feel seen haha. Bogus indeed. I can’t remember if I said it in one of my other posts, of if it was in a group chat, but I made a comment somewhere how this ruleset doesn’t seem to work with the stated purpose of the whole Reaper’s Game system. Sweet validation.

#3 Not much to say except that if I had read this entire report when I actually got it, I would have been much more alarmed by all of the Replays Rindo has to do after that. I got it partway through week 3 but decided not to read it until I beat the game and then BAM it has this lovely tidbit about potentially being able to destroy the UG and RG.

#4 So, the business that the fandom refers to as the Long Game is known in universe by the higher-ups and Shibuya’s impurification, because it didn’t get ‘purified’ like Shinjuku (I object to that term but ok).

“The hierarchical freeze presumably stems from opposition to the impurification”

Skeezy wasn’t reprimanded when he arrived in Shibuya “possibly because most Higher Plane denizens still oppose Shibuya’s impurification”

ExcUSE ME. I. WHAT. In one of the secret reports for the first game, Mr H says something about the way things turned out be an ‘ideal parallel world’ according to the Angels. I guess he only meant the ones who didn’t want the city destroyed holy shit. That most of them didn’t want Joshua to change his mind and STILL DON’T is so massively fucked up I can’t. Dear Higher Plane, what the actual, ever loving fuck.

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#5 One hundred and four Games under Shiba. That’s… so. many. teams. Holy shit. And the teams we knew had seen at LEAST 30 teams go. And the three teams we saw weren’t small. So many people…

Also, “Minamimoto seems to be plotting something” is the funnies thing I’ve read in ages OF COURSE HE IS that’s what he DOES. XD That was some mood whiplash.

#6 I was so hung up on the lack of entry fee for so long you don’t even know. Like. Those were so important in the first one it was baffling to me that Shinjuku rules didn’t have anything similar. And then eventually I just decided that the whole Game wasn’t being run correctly and Shiba was clearly after something other than driving the improvement that’s supposed to be the point.

I would like more explanation on this ‘Rindo’s stagnation makes him perfect for time travel thing’. I kind of understand how his reactions being consistent would be helpful in being able to control where the timeline goes (also I just realized this further confirms that Angels remember the other timelines glad I wasn’t imagining that the Prime days are a blur), but what does he mean about being able to maintain abnormally high levels of imagination? (It might tell me later so don’t say anything lol)

“I can only hope I’m not overthinking things.” Oh, you aren’t. If I’m understanding everything correctly, Skeezy actually had two proxies. And poor Rindo managed to end up being proxy for both sides at the same time which is. A mess.

#7 Well, finally we know how Coco managed to get her hands on a taboo sigil. Plagiarism. Lmao. That at least makes sense and I can worry less about her being Something Else. I would like a word with whoever didn’t clean that up from Udagawa long enough for her to copy it though. That’s hilarious. Interesting that Mr H thinks it wasn’t a perfect recreation though, that something in him got changed. Once again, please elaborate. Please. *headdesk* What prompted Coco to just. Copy a taboo sigil though. Cuz that seems. Unusual.

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#8 Ok there’s a lot to unpack in this one. Namely, more Shinjuku rules. I would love to know if these are long standing rules or relatively recent. Cuz like. Did Shinjuku’s Game ever run in a way that would drive the kind of improvement that’s supposed to be the overall goal? Or has it always, or at least for a while now, been basically a meat grinder? The players that don’t clear that minimum bar probably just get erased outright, I would think. Actually, I’m confused. If normally, one team would get to leave and one team would be erased, wouldn’t that normally keep the average pretty level, so the Game would basically go on forever? Otherwise what do you do with all the other teams that are between first and last? I’m confused. It can’t be normal for teams to keep asking for more rounds. And what if the winning team says ‘everyone gets to go home’?

“The Conductor has yet to contact the Composer” and “it is possible he is unaware of the Higher Plane’s purification protocol.” I don’t know why, but I get the feeling these are important.

#9 These secret reports are really driving at the whole ‘Rindo just goes with it’ thing, aren’t they. Like, that was his thing, right? He has trouble making definitive decisions? So his arc culminates in that moment in Udagawa where he tells Hazuki that he’s going to take the risk and go back one more time, where he’s making that decision purely for his own sake. And here Mr H seems to be saying that prodding Rindo down the road to character growth is going to be a lot harder than it was with Neku back in the day. Which makes sense, I think. Confronting someone with the concept that other people have value is a lot less complicated than trying to get them to not only make a firm decision, but to choose something that is purely because it’s what they want and need, not because someone else thinks they should.

It’s a little alarming that this report implies that if the pin wasn’t absorbing the Dissonance caused by the Replays, the UG and RG would already be having a bad time. Yikes. This is the report for day 2 of the second week. We haven’t even gotten into the crazy time travel yet.

Aaaaand #10 is for completing the social network, so I have to actually go do Another Day. I want to read these in order; it is much less confusing that way.

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#10 I really shouldn’t read these late at night with a possible migraine coming on, they’re already confusing enough. The bits that made sense: Uzuki was acting Conductor damn girl. (Did she have to deal with Joshua and was he in Dignified Mode or Being a Shit Mode because that’s possibly an oof.) I had assumed Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor and then just kinda took over after they moved in but apparently not? And RIP the actual Conductor, apparently. Weird that so many Reapers made it but the Conductor, who by all rights should have, didn’t.

I am slightly concerned by the fact that there’s standard procedure for obliterating a district. That’s. Alarming.

I don’t think page 4 is continuing the thought on page 3. Fucking. Stop that. Don’t just say a thing and then start talking about something else I would like EXPLANATIONS. UGH. “Almost” he says. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that almost is a big deal, so why don’t you tell me about it.

Four cases where a district got into trouble before a final decision on whether to reset or not was made. And one was the last game. I wonder if that means whatever was wrong that made Joshua want to destroy it, or if the ‘imbalance’ was all the madness that happened after he agreed to one final Game with Kitaniji and the left the UG. Cuz in one of the first set of secret reports, it says that with the Composer absent, the UG is starting to fall apart as the rules are no longer valid, or something like that. I would definitely call that an imbalance.

#11 All I care about in this report is that Mr H wants to have a digital art bonding party with Kaie and that is so random why are you writing this down you absolute goober. The first page of this report is like ‘everyone is getting depressed’ and then just a wild left turn into dork-town. Lmao what.

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#12 I don’t think Mr H knows at this point (you get this report for W2D5’s Boss Noise) that the Ruinbringers are all Reapers. He’s gonna be mad. He does know what Shoka is up to though. He’s worried. Aw.

#13 It didn’t occur to me until this report hit me in the face with it, but they’ve set up a fantastic contrast between the two people Rindo knows from online. One is. not great, let’s say, because I did not take the reveal of Motoi’s true self well. The other is Shoka, and she’s a real friend. I now see what you did there. One relationship that’s a farce and one that really, really isn’t.

#14 Me, out loud, at 1:30 in the damn a.m.: WAIT. HOLD THE FUCK UP.

If getting Tsugumi out of Mr Mew required an Angel, how in the hell did Shiki manage to…? What. I’m very confused.

Also damn, saving Tsugumi was so important that Shinjuku’s Conductor died for it. Did he know what she could do, the whole visions thing? Or maybe that something was wrong with Shiba and it would take someone like her to potentially stop him in the future?

I still would like to now how the hell Tsugumi got her hands on Mr Mew. Especially since its apparently the ORIGINAL Mr Mew and she seems to have had him during the inversion? What.

#15 So… Inversions don’t always happen when a region is purified. I’m trying to wrap my brain around what a ‘complete loss of character’ in and area that’s had an Inversion could mean. Like… I think I get it, but my brain won’t make words, let alone sentences. Like when you go into a hotel room, and it doesn’t feel like a home, as opposed to when you go to a friend or family’s house, and it does? Kinda like that but it’s the whole district that’s just… blank? That’s kinda creepy.

If there are so many who think a ‘regular purification’ isn’t enough, the a) what does that even look like, b) is that what Joshua was going to do to Shibuya and c) is there an intermediate step between ‘normal’ and Inversion? I have been staring at this report for literally 15 minutes now.

#16 “I wonder how [Shiba] will feel about all this after he is allowed to return to his former self.” Yuuuuuup. I still Do Not Like him, but dude was borderline mind controlled so like. Yeah. And I did get to kill him once, so. As long as he minds his business and isn’t a total dick from here on, whatever. It all just sucks.

*facepalm* Well at least we got to being suspicious of Replay eventually. Why did it take you this long Mr H. Though I do wonder what Rindo would have been able to do without the interference. He had to have some kind of latent skill for the pin to react to him, right? I’m now going in circles mentally trying to puzzle out if Replay is like, a leveled up version of whatever Rindo would have naturally had, and regardless, where exactly it came from. Because the only time I can think of when anyone had a chance to mess with the pin was when he didn’t catch it in the prologue. And I’m pretty sure it was Joshua who picked it up. Aaagh I’m giving myself a headache.

I find it hard to believe skeezy would just yeet a random time travel pin out into the world. That seems both dumb as fuck and inefficient.

#17 “Some of them who know what I am occasionally try to contact me.” Lol so Kariya DOES know who Mr H is, I take it. Alright.

I’m having some kind of emotion that Wildkat still exists in a way for the Reapers, and that some of them still go there.

I just imagined Uzuki texting him like ‘plz make the Composer fucking do something kthx’ and I’ve got the giggles now oh dear

#18 HA! I was right! Minamimoto WASN’T in control when he attacked us! ‘Distortions within himself’ though, that’s concerning. Does that have to do with how he’s come back from the dead twice now? And how Coco’s copy of the sigil was apparently imperfect?

#19 I was about to say ‘who would target him for his abilities?’ and then my brain turned back on because duh. Shiba and them were looking hard for Neku, to the point that they flooded the RG with Player Pins in the hopes that he would pick one up and get sucked into the Game. A thing that occurred to me last night at 3:30 in the morning because I am a disaster: Mr H says that Minamimoto ‘seems different’. Neku says much the same thing after he comes back. So… Neku’s ability to Scan all the way down to someone’s Soul is potentially close to as sensitive as Mr H’s long distance ability. Which is a little insane. On top of the fact that he can use basically every psych imaginable no problem, survived a pact with a Composer for a full week, while said Composer was using crazy light beams which probably should have melted Neku from the feedback, and then almost singlehandedly defeated the Conductor while somehow inventing four-way fusion attacks. Kid is mad powerful. And he’s just a human. Like, the OG secret reports say that people always become dramatically stronger when they become Reapers. Reaper!Neku would be unstoppable.

“This would be much simpler if I could sit down and talk with him.” Okay, I laughed out loud. Like, loudly.

So… Shinjuku’s Composer… basically had his Conductor assassinated by skeezy. And because skeezy was messing with Shiba’s head, he could prompt Shiba to take the Reapers to Shibuya afterwards, to start doing it there too? Hazuki ordered Shinjuku’s purification so… Oh dear. I might have a few bones to pick with him.

OH NO. OOOOOH. OH NOOOO. SHINJUKU’S CONDUCTOR. HE WAS TSUGUMI’S BROTHER OH MY GOD. That is fucking tragic what the fuck. What the FUCK. Okay several things make sense now but OH MY GOD FUCKING HELL I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT. Shiki fixing Mr Mew allowed Tsugumi to free herself because her brother had already done part of the work, I take it? Along with us getting the Noise out of there? No wonder the Conductor stayed, he had to go get his sister… Shit, man.

…… Did Coco steal Mr Mew and take him to Shinjuku?????

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

#21 isn’t very interesting, just a rehash of stuff we already knew.

#22 Okay Haz IS Shinjuku’s Composer. What. Why? I’m. So confused. Why would he intercede on our behalf, and why NOW? He was happy to throw his own city away, but stepped in to stop skeezy in Shibuya? And then tried to put it back together, and when Rindo was miserable he came to try to understand why. And then cajoled Rindo into having a breakthrough in his Character Development to boot.

Mr H says he has an idea why Haz did all this. And then doesn’t fucking say it because OF COURSE. *headdesk* That gets really old really fast, game.

I’m now running through The Last Day’’ to get the final two reports and this entire section with Haz is somehow even more confusing with context. God damn it Nomura.

#23 Even after he said we were on our on this time, he forced the Soul Pulvis to reform as Pheonix Cantus to make it easier for us to fight? Bro. What. Are all Composers just… walking contradictions? Aiya.

Shoutout to emotional support Joshua at the end there lol. I remember half-hysterically thinking ‘what are you just here for moral support?’ but ok. And I mean, it did work, Neku did manage to do the thing, so. *sigh* Speaking of, it is ABSOLUTELY INSANE that Neku manage to sync with the entire city without his brain melting. Remember at the beginning of the first game when he scans for the first time and has a massive sensory overload? Look at my boy, all grown up.

#24 Holy shit world building on how exactly people come back to life without everyone freaking out. I never thought I would see the day.

I still have so many questions but that was always going to be the case. The first game had so many things it left open as well. Agh. Time to start wearing new holes in my brain overthinking things.

#let's liveblog: neo twewy #neo twewy spoilers #secret reports

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Text

many many anons under the cut bc i didn’t want anyone to feel like i was ignoring them and i wanted to respond to u all! warning for small text too, it was so long i wanted to make it look smaller fgbnjkgkjn

Anonymous asked: NAT... you can write WHATEVER you want! It's your blog, and I hope that rude anons can learn to respect that. I used to be on your blog just for jjba content too, so when you started getting into jjk I was indifferent but eventually you dragged me into jjk so hard!! I already like bnha, so seeing you write for it only made me happier! I hope that you continue to write whatever make YOU happy:) ❤and yes, longer fics certainly doesnt mean it's better, quality over quantity

ahh i’m happy that you are here for all three!! i always feel so accomplished when someone is like ‘your constant screaming made me think about jjk <3′. all three of the fandoms are fairly popular and i tag everything v carefully so i hope people who do use the filtering find that useful!!!

Anonymous asked: Goodness gracious. People really be out there thinking they're entitled to dictating what kind of content you should be making

i think part of it might be that i do take requests so people feel like they have like . . . a certain right to certain kinds of my content? i take requests mostly bc they keep me motivated, i like making content for ppl who cant find what they want bc i’ve Been There, but maybe people think i am a pushover? idk i am just trying to have a good time!!!

Anonymous asked: Hi. I only started following you a few days ago but please ignore that rude anon. People are so fucking entitled towards writers it's insane. I recently had someone throw a fit for "spoiling" something in my fanfic, even though the fic was about a manga-exclusive character, so what did they expect?? Overall I've really enjoyed your writing so random assholes coming to guilt you is just a shitty thing that happens. Keep going with what you wanna do.

ah gosh anon i’m sorry about that :(. i’m always super careful tagging spoilers and stuff but like, if someone clicks on a fic about say, naoya or the steel ball run boys and is mad that i spoil something they havent found out yet . . . yeah thats on them fgbnkjgfkjn

Anonymous asked: That...that anon had the nerve to say "we". The fuck?! No no no anon, YOU'RE the only one talking and you're just talking for yourself, don't you dare try and lump us other anons/followers up with you to make yourself look like you're right. We love you nat and we appreciate you. It's your blog, you're allowed to write about whoever and whatever. This brain dead anon just needs to either go read someone else if they're that salty or write their own stuff if they're that impatient.

gosh i WISH some of my mad anons would just write their own stuff honestly. idk if this anon thought they were talking for everybody but i guess they expected anons to agree with them and not be mad at them. i appreciate u anon ;_;

Anonymous asked: Just want to say that ily and you’re one of the best jojo fanfic writers in my opinion 💗 I don’t think you’re half assing jojo fics and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you being multi fandom. A lot of jojo blogs have started posting about jjk so it’s not as if you’re the only one. I’m not sure why you get hate like this but I think it’s just because you’re one of the popular writers and that makes people bitter for whatever reason. Keep being you and posting about the things that make you happy 💕

honestly after so long writing for jojo - i’ve written well over 200 jojo reader insert fics - sometimes it feels like i’m retreading stuff, and that’s when i take a break bc i dont wanna half-ass stuff!!! i love all of my fellow jojo friends who are posting about jjk too, i appreciate them <3.

Anonymous asked: Hey my dude, ur writing has really grown since the jojo days and its better and awesome seeing u become happier to branch off and write in different fandoms 🤌🤌 those stupid anons are just boring farts that couldnt be bothered making their own content 😤😤 is it possible to block them to ease ur mind?

hello anon!! i run a statcounter for IPs but it doesnt always work for ppl who access through the tumblr app, i don’t think; a lot of the anon hate i get i just use the ‘block’ option, but last night got to me because i’ve been getting that kind of writer a lot which is . . . a bad look for the jojo fandom who are, as a whole from the ones i’ve interacted with, lovely!!! <3

Anonymous asked: People often forget, the person behind art or writing, is just another regular fan. You deserve to be happy with what you create and we should be thankful you share your talent with us. You also have right to change your main interests, and it's very normal thing. Jojo is one of the MANY things that you write for and all you get from that is a like or share. Its not your job. It's your fun thing to do, in spare time. You haven't betrayed anybody. That person was just rude, selfish and bored.

i am just a person doing my best!!! anime fanfic is one of many interests i have and i already devote a lot of time to it honestly, i love when people tell me they’ve enjoyed something i made bc it makes it feel worthwhile but equally it gets to me a lot when people are rude because i am usually trying my hardest.

Anonymous asked: Bro that jjba anon... the entitlement🤮 Fam, you write whatever you want to write😤 -Saturday

dfnjbkjnkgf i find most fic readers are NOT entitled at all and are just grateful but when they are . . . oof.

Anonymous asked: It's funny how people throw "we got you popular" and they think you start apologize and cry. Your writing and passion made you gain few numbers on a follow counter, nothing more. I think I'm too old for stuff like this, we are nothing more, but +1 on a number scale. You ow us nothing, we ow you nothing. Popular... Funny word. You just write for fun of it, fake scenarios about someone's manga characters. It's not that deep. Have fun and don't listen to people like this. I knew it's not that easy, but they are really not that important as they think they are.

extremely fun fact for people who think ‘popularity’ is important to me: i would 100% rather have 10 people who regularly comment, reblog my fics with tags and interact with me than 100 people who read my fic and either leave a like or simply move on. i think this is true for the VAST MAJORITY of writers tbh. i’m glad that people think i am a ‘popular’ blog (i am not in the grand scheme of things, one of my ex-best friends used to run a kpop reader insert blog with like 30,000 followers) bc it gives me an ego boost lmao, but i really just want people to read and enjoy the stuff i write!!!

Anonymous asked: I followed you a while ago for jojo and when my friends started getting into jjk i was like...eh sounds like work...but now that I see you writing for it I feel really motivated to get into it!!! I really enjoy your writing and I want to be able to read the new stuff too!

ah anon i really hope you like it!!! it’s only one season rn if u wanna watch the anime and there isn’t too much of the manga to catch up on either but it is a lot of fun and it’s nice to be in a fandom that’s like, excited about a new chapter and new plot developments every week!

Anonymous asked: Pls dont reply if u dont want to! <3 I'm not sure if this will be of any help to you or not but this is the kind of thing that often helps me and is the only way I know to try comfort others so I wanted to give it a go~

Now im not gonna say 'dont feel bad pls' bc I know that's not really useful but what I do think is useful is just discussing why that anon and many others feel the need to respond that way. As someone who follows a lot of writing blogs myself and have done for a long time, i've seen my handful of favourite writers come and go for different reasons, lose motivation for a while, gain motivation for a while, go from multi to single fandom, or single fandom to multi. Often times as a reader it can be upsetting when things change but it's also important as a reader to understand that some things aren't in anyone's control, I can't control what my favourite writers become a fan of or lose interest of, I can't control things in their personal lives that may motivate or demotivate them to write, but what I can do is support them as long as they're active, and if they move on to do things i'm no longer interested in or i'm the one that changed interests, rather than being upset that they're evolving to do other things or that they're not evolving with me, I think it's important that I still feel thankful for the works that I enjoyed while we were still on the same page and this is how I personally deal with those negative feelings. I think the anons that lash out at you probably just dont know what to do with themselves, maybe they got attached to your works while you were still only a jjba blog and now that you're evolving they're upset, while I understand how they feel, they're going the completely wrong way about it. I've learned to take these things and turn them into something positive for myself or at least something bittersweet that I can move on from but the anons that lash out at you for whatever reason probably haven't learned this yet. Maybe it's because i've moved on and changed interests a lot myself that I know how these things go for both writers and readers but those anons maybe haven't experienced this as much so they dont know what to do with themselves other than complain that you've changed and throw insults at you in an attempt to get you to revert back. None of this is because of the quality of your writing like they want you to believe, it's literally just because you've evolved and while some of your old followers might not like the new content for no reason other than it not being their cup of tea, it's definitely not regressed at all. You are pumping out a lot of content right now but every single thing i've read has just been better than the last. Things that really stand out to me is how well you get characterisation down to a T and all of your dialogue is just on point and from the pov of a reader I think those things seem the hardest to get right so I am such a huge fan of your stuff at the moment and I can tell you're really putting so much thought and care into each and every fic no matter how fast you're producing it, I think the fact that you're also proud of what you're writing at the moment really shines through as well and I just adore the passion that radiates from every completed request as well as in the responses for the subsequent thirsts resulting from these works that appear in your ask box later (I know i've sent quite a few by now~)

Just to be clear i'm not defending those anons in any way, while I can understand what they might be feeling/why they're reacting in the way they are I still believe it's just so immature to be hateful online point blank. Even during a time where I still got upset with writers if they started doing something else I still never targeted that negativity directly to the writer and sending rude or hateful comments whether on anon or not never something i'd stooped low enough to do even when I still had an immature way of thinking, however, I hope that it might make it a little easier to brush them off if we try and understand what they're really upset about, and that they're just putting the blame for their negative feelings onto the wrong thing rather than coming to terms with change themselves.

hello anon!! i appreciate the long message. i do feel bad for people who have no interest in what i’m currently producing and i get that they feel upset about it; i’ve watched a lot of fellow jojo writers move on completely or just stop posting, honestly. this kind of thing is why i was so intense about asking people if it would be better if i made a separate blog but the resounding answer seemed to be ‘i’m just vibing with whatever happens and i’ll block tags as needed’.

i often return to works by my favourite reader-insert writers who no longer write for the fandoms i like (and i read stuff bc it sounds interesting or i trust the person who writes it), but change can be difficult and i guess at this point i’ve - whether u like me or not lmao - been a fixture in jojo reader-insert tumblr for a While so it’s probably kind of jarring.

anyway i really appreciate you and the nice words! <3

Anonymous asked: hi nat! I just wanted to pop in and say that regardless of what fandom you write for, the love and care you pour into your writing and into interacting with followers who care about your work as well is really obvious. you're doing this for FREE and people should appreciate what you've given us so far, since ultimately this blog should be for you, whatever that means to you at any point in time. it's ok to jump fandoms! the important thing is that you feel good about what you're producing and that it makes you happy. everyone else is just a bonus - but, seeing you on my dash certainly makes me happy : ) I hope you feel better soon!

thank you anon! i’m feeling much better and happier today. birthdays are very difficult for me (i did not think i’d be alive at eighteen, much less 25!) so this event is definitely kind of a way for me to concentrate on something else, and i’m a little bit extra sensitive atm. i appreciate you so much, thank you for the kind words!!! <3

Anonymous asked: Hello! I just wanted to say, write what YOU want and make YOUR writings as long as you'd like. 💖 To the anon who is like "We mAdE yOu FaMoUs dOnt HalF asS iT" stfu, let people do what they wanna do. If you think they half do it, write something better and longer you asshat.

this is an open invitiation to that anon to send me a link to their writing blog and i’ll hype them up i promise <3

Anonymous asked: nat i'm so so sorry about that ask please know that your older followers don't share the same opinion :( sometimes people forget about the living, breathing person behind the screen smh. you are not a machine. you absolutely should not restrict yourself to posting about one fandom forever. yes, we're first pulled in by your amazing content, but we stay for your wonderful personality and work ethic. please just keep being you, taking up projects you feel comfy with! <333 bless u

ahh thank u anon! unfortunately i actually am a writing robot, i’m sorry u had to find out this way. my jojo chip has been removed, please send it back so i can continue to not half-ass my jojo work. fgnjkbgjkfn thank you so much angel!!! i appreciate you ;_;.

Anonymous asked: i don’t think it’s fair for other people to say shit about what you choose to write about because on tumblr and other writing platforms, writers are constantly developing how they write and the fandoms that they write for. it’s not fair for someone to criticize that “you don’t care about jjba blah blah blah” because you can enjoy new shows/manga. and like you said you’ve grown so much!! proud of you nat and im glad that ive been able to read your works (sincerely other nat)

i am STILL waiting for you to come and fight me other nat fgnjkbnf. it’s nice to be enjoying different things! i am constantly learning new things and reading new works and making new friends and improving and i think that’s important. i do care about jjba - a lot! but i can care about other things too! <3

Anonymous asked: I may not be one of your oldest followers, but i've been here for almost 3 years. Yes, i started following u for ur jojo content, but let me tell u, ur newfound motivation and enthusiam for other fandoms was honestly contagiuos for me. And i say this as a person who finds very difficult to move from one interest to another. Jojo is great, but so are other fandoms. Please don't let some faceless scum rob u that motivation. This is ur blog and u r always free to write whatever u want.

honestly, i have been there! i am autistic and i have special interests and watching other people move on to stuff i’m not vibing with has made me sad in the past, but i want people to be happy more than anything and sometimes that means new things and change! <3

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat! I saw that rude anon message & I just wanted to pop in & say that they're wrong. You're not betraying anyone & you should write whatever it is you want to write. I followed you for jojo & I'm not familiar with the other fandoms that you write for, but personally it makes me SO happy to see you enjoying new things! It's always good to find joy wherever you can, so keep writing what you're interested in. There a lot of ppl who want to see you happy and healthy <3

honestly the idea of it being a GRAND BETRAYAL is so funny, i am just writing anime fanfic here and thriving!!! tysm anon! <3

Anonymous asked: Those anons can piss off! They have no right to judge how long or how short your writing is. If they want longer content write it their damn selves. I think your writing has improved wonderfully and I originally followed for Jojo and I'm enjoying all the content period. I don't even watch jujutsu ( not my cup of tea personally) but I love seeing the creativity and the interactions. You write what makes you happy Nat and that's on that! You don't owe anybody anything! I know how hard writing is and when your consuming new content it's hard to make content for something else. That doesn't mean you don't like it any more your just doing something different for a while. Love you and your content and I'm enjoying the love your putting into your content whether long or short. ♥♥💕 Sending love your way!

honestly my idea of ‘short content’ is still over 1k words, i’m not good at reeling myself in! i guess it’s bc they see like, 1.5k jojo fic versus 5k jjk fic but it’s not that i didn’t enjoy the first fic, just that the point and the story came a lot quicker and so did the natural end! thank you anon, i appreciate you ;_;

Anonymous asked: Hello! Just wanted to let your know that I think your writing is awesome, and that you should write for whoever and for whatever you want to! You dont have to stay loyal to one fandom or anything, and your followers shouldn't expect that from you! It's not like they are paying you to write, you are doing this for free, and because you enjoy it and it makes you happy! If they dont like your stuff, they dont have to follow you, they can go to other blogs that cater to their taste, and they definitely don't need to be sending you such hurtful comments, and they dont get to make you feel sad about your writing! Just because they followed you during your earlier stages of writing, doesn't mean you owe them some type of loyalty or compensation! You can write literally whatever you want as long as it makes you happy! That's what your hobby and your blog are for! I hope you know that alot of your followers love your work and think that you are an amazing writer and are down to support the work that makes you happiest! 💖💖

ahh thank you so much anon!!! i am always so bowled over by how many people are nice to me when something like this happens, i am sending you my love <3

Anonymous asked: don’t listen to them!! we love you as a writer no matter what you write, because you’re a good person and a talented writer!! you shouldn’t have to change what you write to please a bitter person, and if they only want jjba, they can go to another blog instead of bringing you down. you’re doing amazing and they should be thankful you grace us with your talents!!

to be totally honest, if i was half-assing or not vibing with content i was making i just. wouldn’t post it. like you’d be able to TELL when i was half-assing stuff just to get words out (source: i have re-read my own nanowrimo works). there are lots of great jjba blogs who could do with more followers n interaction!!! i hope they do find them and i hope they’re nice to them :(.

Anonymous asked: Please don’t pay attention to that anon. People only have that confidence when they have anon turned on. Them looking through your blog despite feeling that way is peak fan behavior and speaks to how addicting your writing is. Naturally, you can’t please everyone and there will be people who are irrational and feel entitled to tell you what to do or what to write no matter what. Trust me when I say they’re a small minority and are more likely probably passing viewers rather than regulars. I check your blog about three or more times a day because I love reading not just your fics but also your takes, banter with other anons, or even random updates. Brainrot posts? LOVE TO SEE IT!!! Desk update? AMAZING!!! With that being said, don’t feel pressured to continue pushing out content for others. Write what makes you happy! You’ve been writing for JJBA for 4 years and it’s completely normal + healthy to get into new media. I’m not sure if it would mean much, but your love for JJK has gotten me excited to start it too!!

anon i really hope you enjoy it!!! sometimes these anons remember stuff i’ve posted and said better than i do tbh, i am living in their heads rent free i guess!

Anonymous asked: I've been following you for a couple of years and honestly it would always be a joy to see when you posted. Your writing has improved and I'm very happy you're enjoying yourself ! I know it hurts hearing and seeing stuff like that but I'm happy you're here. I'm honestly blessed everytime you post. Your writing is phenomenal. I love reading it even if its characters that I dont care for. You capture their essences so well and weave an amazing tale within the prompts and whatnot. You're amazing nat!

wehh thank you so much!!! re: the improvement, i really don’t feel like it has and then i re-read something i wrote when i first started and i’m like oh my god maybe it has. did i really write about jotaro acting like that.

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat. I recently became a follower of yours and I'm really saddened to see you get hate. You seem like a genuinely sweet person with amazing talent! I'm a writer myself and, unfortunately, get the same kind of comments. And when you get those comments, it doesn't leave you feeling motivated. People need to understand that people can and will, at times, grow out of fandoms. (1 Not just that but you're doing all of this for free. Again, I'm sorry you got such a comment. But please know that I'm proud of how far you've come. I'm proud that you're living a life that makes you happy. And no matter what fandom you may find yourself in next, I will always enjoy your writing. Take care of yourself. (2 end

HELLO NEW FOLLOWER I LOVE YOU (i get a lot more a day now than i used to and i feel guilty about not being able to look through so many blogs but i do try and follow back other writers for my fandoms!! ;_;). i’m sorry you get the same kind of comments! i’m always just happy to see people i like enjoying new things, even if i have no interest in it (hello to all of my mutuals who write for hunter x hunter and haikyuu, not interested but i’m sure you’re having a great time and i support you!!!).

Anonymous asked: I'm sure you're getting a barrage of supportive messages now (at least I hope so) but I figured I'd add my voice, because I'm a longtime follower. Your writing is, and always has been, wonderful. I've been so happy to see you and Haz get to a place that works for you both. Idk if it's obvious for everyone, but you seem like you're emotionally in a pretty good place most of the time these days, and it makes me really happy to see that. I followed years ago for JJBA content, but I stayed because regardless of what content you put out, I find your wit delightful. And I'll stick around even if you move fandoms entirely, because whatever content or editorializing you produce is going to be worth reading, regardless of what it's for.

ahh, anon!! thank you for sticking around so long, sorry if you’re old enough to have been around the vore and jorts and spider rohan fiascos! <3 i am definitely a lot more stable than i have been and - barring the Pandemic Related Mental Health Issues - happier! i’m glad that it’s noticeable! <3

Anonymous asked: It actually makes me mad how entitled some people are. Nat, you're not a content creating machine and those who expect you to be are not worth wasting a thought on. Your love for something is not measured in word counts and for you to write every day without getting burned out in the slightest you really must have a burning passion and huge dedication to your craft. If others decide to send hate then allow me to send admiration because I can feel your love and hard work in each post you make!

i try and write every day bc it’s super good for my little ocd/autistic brain to have routines and distract itself, so i’m glad other people can enjoy them because that makes me motivated to carry on! like, i write for myself mostly bc the content i want i sometimes get find, but filling requests and writing for other people also leaves me with happy warm fuzzies too! i appreciate you!! <3

Anonymous asked: If people only care about your writing for the jojo porn that’s on THEM, not you. Your writing was amazing when I followed about a year ago, and it’s only gotten better and will continue to get better! I think it really comes through when you enjoy what you’re writing and it adds a whole other layer of worth to it, because not only are you making free content but you LIKE that content and we can all gush about it together!!! More than just fans, I think you’ve created a community here and we don’t just stick around to read smut, I promise you that. -Reronon

i do miss having a discord community bc it was nice to talk to everyone in real time but it was hard work, i am glad that people feel like they can just come into my askbox and gush! i’m not very friendly in real life and people tend to think i am cold and stuck up so i work very hard to try and seem friendly and approachable online, which is much easier for me because i get to think and re-draft before i type! <3

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat! I’m sure you’re getting a lot of messages like this right now but I just wanted to say for what it’s worth that, as a person who originally followed you for jjba content and hasn’t watched/read any of the other series you’re currently writing for, I’m honestly still along for the ride. This is your blog and you’re allowed to do what you want with it and put out what content you feel like writing. Sometimes??? People acquire new interests??????? Shocking! I know absolutely nothing about jjk or bnha but out of curiosity still read some of your posts about them and even though I might not Get It, I still enjoy them because I think you’re a very talented writer! Honestly, as long as you’re still writing, I’m still down to clown, and whenever you take breaks (which are important!) I’ll still be waiting for your return or supporting and respecting your decision to stay away longer. Don’t let the entitled assholes get you down. Utilize YOUR blog and YOUR space however YOU choose. Your talent and kindness speak for themselves. Love you!!! ❤️❤️❤️

anon i care about you and i am so appreciative of you and everyone for sending me such nice messages! i am running out of ways to say it but it’s true, it really does mean a lot to me ;_; <3

#nat.txt

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

can we see chris just having a good day with like some happy stims? he is a huge comfort character for me and seeing an autistic OC who has the same stims i do and stims openly is just. amazing. sorry for no sentence prompt!

Of course, Anon! I know what I’ll do for this one, definitely.

CW: WRU/BBU and some pet whump references but this is pure fluff

Jake looks up, squinting as he hears a sudden thumping from the roof over his head, the kitchen light shaking very slightly. “Good or bad, d’you think?” He asks, and glances over at Kauri, who is leaning his back against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee from a mug shaped like a unicorn, his fingers wrapped around its rainbow tail. One ceramic eye seems locked on Jake.

“Fuck if I know,” Kauri responds, squinting. He’s been awake for twenty minutes and clearly has not had enough coffee yet to join the world under anything but serious protest. “It’s too early for anyone to have strong feelings, Jake.”

“It’s seven,” Jake says, gently, but he can’t help his smile. “You should’ve gone to bed before two, Kaur.”

“Used to be easier staying up all night. When did that change?”

“When you got old.”

Kauri glares at him, and Jake gives him a look of serene innocence in return. “You’re older than I am.”

“Yeah, and I also don’t go to bed at two and get up at six anymore without a damn good reason, now do I?”

Kauri snorts. The thumping starts back up above their heads, and Jake sighs, pushing himself out of his chair.

“Okay, I’m going to go up there and see what’s going on. He keeps that up, he’ll wake up my household, and not one of them isn’t in dire need of as much sleep as they can get.”

“Mmmn. I’m going to finish this coffee and go back to bed.” When Jake raises an eyebrow, Kauri grins at him. “I didn’t say I would sleep, now did I?”

Jake’s kiss is brief but forceful before he turns to head upstairs and see what has Chris making that kind of noise this early in the morning. It could be good or bad - but things haven’t really been too rough lately. Chris is doing fine in school, his friends are good, he and Laken started talking about living together next year... Jake runs through the list and he can’t find anything of concern, not now, not in this odd period of something like peace. Still, he worries.

Part of being somebody’s brother, he supposes, and finds a smile playing across his face. The eternal thought of I’m somebody’s big brother, popping in now and then, to remind him that how he started isn’t where he is now, and never has to be.

Chris’s door is closed and Jake knocks politely, the thumping stopping. Chris flings open the door, eyes shining and bright, wearing only his compression shirt and loose pajama pants, clearly interrupted during the process of getting dressed. Behind him, Jake can see a large blue t-shirt laid out on the bed, from the museum he went to with Laken a few weeks ago. It as some kind of dinosaur skeleton in black on the front, like a T-rex but Jake knows it’s not actually a T-Rex. He can’t remember what Chris said it was. Next to the shirt is his stim bracelet and a stim necklace, a flat black bat today instead of his usual feathers.

As always, Jake hides the wince at the sight of his forehead scar, fading slowly but still too bright and red for his liking. Too permanent. Visible evidence that when it mattered, Jake couldn’t get in to him in time.

“You’re shaking the house,” Jake says, scanning Chris’s expression, but all he sees is sparkling brightness, a smile playing there, fighting his attempts to look serious. “What’s up?”

“He, he called,” Chris says, quick and rushed, and lets go of the door, stepping back, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet on the hardwood floor. “He called, Jake!”

“Who? About what?” Jake steps in, closing the door slowly behind him, leaning back to watch Chris spin and then stop and start bouncing again, almost jumping, his hands flapping rapidly and eyes closed. Jake thinks with a pang of regret about how his longer hair used to float around him like a halo when he was happy like this. Now there’s hardly enough to even move at all.

He’s so fucking excited, though, whatever it is...

“He, he, he-he called!”

“Chris, hey, who called? What’s going on? Is this about getting an apartment? Did Laken hear back from-”

“No!” Chris stops long enough to look at him, breathing hard, but even when he stops bouncing his hands are still moving, almost a blur in the air. He can’t keep his body from moving, and fuck if it isn’t something Jake loves to see. He can still remember the silent statue they’d brought into the house that first rainy night, the frightened, dehumanized rescued teenager that had bloomed into pure sunshine in human form and now Jake watches a grown man who doesn’t police his own excitement. “I mean. No. No, it’s, it’s not... no. Jake, do, do you-... when Laken and I went to to the museum, the natural history museum? Do you remember?”

“Yeah, man, it was a few weeks ago. I don’t-... I don’t follow. How does that-”

“The, the, the Romantic I saw! I, I gave him one of our our numbers, you remember? Do you remember?”

“Yeah... yeah, I do remember you saying-” The full picture hits Jake all at once and he nods, slowly, feeling a smile of his own echo Chris’s expression. “He called? That’s who you mean? The Romantic-”

“Nine texted me,” Chris says, breathless almost, his hands moving, his body bouncing, a low hum coming from him between sentences, fading long enough for him to breathe.

Jake has seen Chris so many versions of happy, but never quite the same as this. The closest is maybe when his college acceptance letter came, when they got the proof that all of Chris’s work for nearly five years had been enough to get him back on track to the life WRU had interrupted.

Not stolen. Not for good. Not now.

“He, he, he he he-he called, he called, they’re gonna go go go get him, they, they, um, they’re gonna go get Rafael, he’s, they’re gonna get him, it worked, it worked it worked it worked-”

Chris flings himself forwards and Jake’s back smacks into the closed door behind him. He lets out a soft ‘oof’ but holds Chris tight, feeling him still moving even now, hands shifting easily into finger-twist-tap-tap-tap on Jake’s sides, his arms. He laughs against Jake’s shoulder, bright and brilliant laughter, and Jake finds himself laughing, too.

“Well, how about that? You did it, Chris.”

“I, I, I did it,” Chris whispers, and he rocks into Jake, and this is so familiar, now, too. “I did it, Jake, I, I did it, it worked, I did it, I, I... I, I helped someone. I, I helped someone get get get get out, I helped someone.”

“You did. I’m fucking proud of you, man.” Jake doesn’t mention that the escapes don’t always go to plan, or how common it is for Romantics specifically to try and go back once they run headfirst into starting over. He doesn’t want to mention it, anyway.

“Do, do, do, do you think I could see him? When they find him somewhere? Do you, you-you think?” Chris pulls back to look up at him, and Jake smiles down. “Will he want to, to see me? Do you think?”

“I think so.” Jake lets him pull back so he can go back to moving, watching Chris full to overflowing with pride in himself and happiness for the other pet, a buzzing energy he doesn’t hesitate, not by now, to allow to find its own way out. “I know I would, if it were me you saved.”

Chris pauses and looks over at him. “I would, too. Save, save you. I would. If it it it were you.”

“I know. What are brothers for?” He’s rewarded with another dazzling smile. “I’ll tell Kauri you need to shake the house for a while longer, okay?”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “Why, why is Kauri up? We didn’t stop watching the-the-the movie until two.”

“Yeah.” Jake grins moving back out the door into the hallway. “And he’s regretting all his choices today. Tell Nine I said hey.”

He closes the door again and moves back to the stairs, unaware that at the end of the hall, Eli’s door is cracked open and the quietest current member of the house stares out at his back, mouthing Nine?

Then Eli closes the door.

Jake gets downstairs to find Kauri staring outside at a tree. “Hey, Kaur, so-”

“I hate that bird,” Kauri says, and takes another sip. “It’s too early to be so fucking cheerful.”

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary

Rafael appeared in these three drabbles

#chris asks #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #pure fluff #original fiction #wru #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #happy stims #erase to control #pet whump references #brief but there

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

Text

back to the hedgerows

summary: every relationship has its difficulties, you know that. but it just so happens that the first significant problem in your marriage to gwilym is more of a mountain than a molehill.

word count: 6k+ (oof she thicc-ish)

warnings: angst to the gods!, language, innuendo, assumed infidelity, allusion to child abuse, did i mention angst? like there is literally nothing but angst here and i’m absolutely living for it

a/n: hi, lovelies! super super excited to be sharing this collab fic i wrote with @almightygwil! as i am the self-proclaimed Queen of Angst, i’ve written the first part and ellie wrote the second (which is amazing), which will be coming out soon. we hope you enjoy and sorry in advance. :)

(side note: i do want to make it really clear that this is simply fiction. i don’t believe gwilym would do some of the things outlined in the fic below in real life. just fiction, y’all, and makes for good make-up smut a la ellie!)

you blame hulu for ruining your marriage.

unless it’s gwilym’s fault; maybe it’s yours. perhaps even charlie’s. whoever is ultimately at fault, you do know that if it hadn’t been for hulu, if it hadn’t been for ‘the great’, you wouldn’t be hastily packing your bags, shouting through tears for your son to gather his belongings and put them in the damn suitcase.

if it hadn’t been for hulu, you wouldn’t be on the verge of losing your husband for good.

“mama?”

you turn at the sound of charlie’s voice, small and shy, filled with concern. he stands in the doorway of your room, clutching his raggedy teddybear. the poor animal is threadbare and stiff around the edges. it is worn with seven and a half years of love, and try as you might to wean him off it, he won’t let go. so you don’t push the matter anymore. after all, a boy who has endured as much as he has deserves to love a stuffed animal for as long as he wishes.

“yeah, baby?” you hope your face isn’t as red and splotchy as it feels. but god you’re tired, tired of waiting by the phone like a fool when you know he won’t call, tired of wondering, tired of crying into your sleeve.

“is daddy gonna meet us at grandma’s?” his question is innocent enough, but it stirs the fire in your belly. your fists clench around the shirt in your hand, and you shake your head.

“no, he’s not.” you switch the subject, afraid that if you continue further, you will lose control. “have you packed your things?”

charlie nods. “come see!”

with a sigh, you drop the clothing in hand and follow. your legs are weary, as is your heart. it’s been a long week. if you’re being honest, it’s been a long few weeks. ever since you kissed gwilym goodbye at the airport, the days have grown longer and your loneliness has only increased. it’s rather sad, how much you depend on him, but he’s your husband, and you love him.

even this week, some part of you loves him still.

charlie’s room could be photographed and used in the dictionary as a reference photo for ‘pigsty’. in an effort to pack his suitcase, he’s unearthed everything in his possession and scattered it across the floor. you’d smile, but you’re too tired. instead, you pick a pair of trousers off the lampshade and step over a mountain of toys.

“i don’t know who you think is gonna be cleaning all this up,” you say, dropping the trousers in the suitcase, which is empty of clothes and full of toys and books. “also, i think you’ll need at least one pair of clean clothes at grandma’s. something besides these books.” you lift the first book you see, and a fresh bout of tears prick the corner of yours eyes.

brian’s first gift to charlie: a book on stars. the pages are dogeared and stained with food. memories—memories of brian and gwilym and charlie in the back garden, stargazing like a trio of schoolboys—fill each page. you set the book down, sure that if you open it and reread the heartfelt note from brian on the inside cover, you will burst.

“here, we’ll take this.” haphazardly, charlie lifts a pile of clothes from the floor and dumps them unceremoniously in the suitcase. for extra measure, he adds his favorite pajamas—a dinosaur onesie, given by joe. “we need to leave most of the room for toys.”

for the time first in days, your face softens. you reach out to cup your son’s freckled cheek. he truly is the light of your life. if you had to go back and do it over again, you would still say yes. even if it eventually led to losing gwil, you would always pick charlie.

“i’m sure grandma has toys waiting for you.”

“but not these toys.”

“no, not these ones.” you glance around the room and search for the muster to tell him to clean before going to bed, but the muster isn’t there. you don’t even have the heart to properly fold the clothes in his suitcase. “brush your teeth and get in bed. we have an early morning.”

charlie pouts and slumps against the bed frame. “but i can’t brush my teeth without daddy,” he whines.

“you’ve had to brush your teeth with him for weeks now, charlie.” your voice is tight, on the edge of rage, so you clear your throat and nod toward the bathroom. “hop to it.”

he drags his feet, but soon you hear the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush.

for a moment, you stand in the center of his room. you can still remember the day you moved in two years prior—newly married, newly a mother, everything so exciting and raw with potential.

charlie had stood in awe of the empty space, his teddybear tight against his neck. you’d watched him from the doorway, heart in your throat, and leaned against gwilym’s chest when he held your shoulder.

“i don’t think he’s ever had a room this big,” you’d whispered. “or one to himself.”

“how do you want to decorate it, charlie?”

at gwil’s question, charlie spun on his heel. his eyes narrowed, still wary of his new father. his gaze had slid to you, and you’d nodded in encouragement.

finally, speaking only to his shoes, he’d said, “i want planets.”

gwilym had laughed, shaking his head. “he’s gonna fit in just fine.”

you can still feel gwil’s hand on his shoulder and his breath on the curve of your neck. you can still feel the way his love for charlie in that moment made you marvel. no other man would be so willing to marry his girlfriend of seven months and adopted her former student three months later. but he’d been willing, and he’d been excited to start a new chapter.

father, mother, and son.

but perhaps now your worst fears have come true. perhaps gwil’s woken from the dream, realized his mistake in marrying you so fast, in agreeing to father a child not his own. perhaps that’s why he hasn’t called or reached out in four days.

you can only assume that’s why. assuming anything else might kill you.

when charlie reenters the room, toothbrush in hand, you palm at your wet cheeks and smooth a hand across your twisting stomach. you force a smile and take the toothbrush.

“i’ll put this in my bag,” you say. “where it’s safe from all the dinos.”

“mama,” charlie chides as he crawls into bed. “dinos need to brush their teeth too.”

“oh, of course! i just mean you don’t want to share dino germs. it’s bad for you.”

charlie rolls his eyes and tugs his comforter to his chin. “how do you know? have you read my books?”

“only a hundred times.” sitting by his side, you tuck the covers around his small frame. you release a slow sigh and study his face. “grandma is going to be so excited to see you,” you say.

“is she nice?”

“always.”

“why haven’t i met her before? i’ve met daddy’s parents, and grandpa brian and grandma anita. why not your mummy and daddy?”

you shrug. “life’s been crazy, and they live very far away. but they’re bursting to finally meet you.”

“but daddy’s not coming?”

you snap before you can stop it. “i wish you’d stop asking that! daddy is not going to be there!”

when you open your eyes, charlie’s are filled with tears and his lower lip quivers. it’s rare that you lose your temper. months of counseling before and after adopting him taught you to control your anger—however justified it may be. his home before yours had not been kind, and any hint of unhappiness sets him on edge.

cursing under your breath, you lean forward, pressing your hands to his shoulders. “i’m sorry, baby.” the pools of tears in your own eyes match his, and you wonder if it is possible for tears to run dry completely. “i’m sorry. i’m not mad at you, sweetheart.”

a fat tear rolls down his cheek, and you brush it away, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“daddy’s at work,” you say. “he can’t come. but i bet—i bet he’s missing you right now and wishing he could be there.” the words taste like a lie, bitter and sinful. still, you say them, hoping they will ease charlie’s fears.

“well, maybe he’ll surprise us.”

clenching your jaw, you nod. “maybe he will.” rising, you kiss his forehead and ruffle his sandy hair. “goodnight. fall asleep fast because before you know it we’ll be leaving.”

with a yawn, he curls onto his side. “i’ve never been on a plane before,” he whispers.

“there’s a first time for everything.” you kiss his temple again and tiptoe out of the room, but not before tripping on a mislaid firetruck.

in the solace of your bedroom, you drop to the carpet beside your bed. your head falls against the firm mattress. your fingers itch to reach for your phone but you stop yourself. it’s a bad habit, always has been. you check your phone too often because the worrier in you is convinced if you aren’t attached at the hip, something dreadful will happen and you’ll miss it. this past week, it’s gotten worse. every few seconds you flip your phone over and wait for the screen to light up. the photo of gwilym and charlie—charlie on gwil’s shoulders, ice-cream smeared all over his cheeks—is always devoid of any new messages. well, any new messages from gwilym, and that’s all you’re looking for.

you knew keeping in close contact would be difficult; you weren’t that naive. you’d expected periods of silence on either end. charlie was a handful and, with school ending for the summer, your full-time job became keeping him out of trouble. gwil was thousands of miles away in a different timezone, not to mention working odd hours. you could handle a day, maybe two, with simple texts—a short good morning or hasty i love u written as you run out the door—but it had been four full days since you’d last heard even a murmur. and that wasn’t counting the week before when day by day his responses grew shorter and his calls more infrequent.

god, you hate him.

aside from your mother, your reason for leaving the country remains secret. you’d tell your cousin, katie, but she’d get too worked up. hell, she’d probably board the next flight and rough gwil up herself. you’d tell joe, ask if you could crash in his apartment with charlie on your layover in new york, but you’d rather not subject him to your marital issues. you’d ask anita for advice, but you can’t stomach the idea of crushing the good image she has of gwilym.

so, you stay quiet. suffer in silence. it’s easier for everyone else that way.

just as you’re about to stand, shower off the layer of disgust forming on your skin, your phone pings. the way you dive toward the bedside table is pathetic. your fingers scrabble, shaking, as you lift the phone. flipping it over, the screen lights up, that stubborn sliver of hope in your heart coming to life as you wait.

a text from the airline. confirmation of boarding numbers.

your eyes flutter shut. you should feel disappointed, but you aren’t. it’s what you’ve come to expect. you’d given up two days earlier, finally decided that if gwilym wasn’t going to answer any of your voicemails or texts, then you’d simply stop nagging him. clearly, he wasn’t interested in being a husband or a father at the moment.

dropping the phone to your bed, you head for the shower. the water is too hot, scalding your skin, but it feels good. it feels like something. you press your hand to the steamed glass and allow the water to run down your face, fill your eyelashes, stream off your nose. you breathe hard against the pain in your chest.

an image—your wedding day—flickers to mind: katie’s backyard, covered in string lights; your gown, hastily bought from the local dressers; the night sky, alive with stars. aside from your cousin and gwilym’s family, the ceremony had been next to empty. you needed to get married fast in order to speed the adoption papers along, and you didn’t mind the small gathering. charlie had sat on katie’s lap the entire time, rolling the ring cushion between his hands. he’d been so small then—five years old and already so scarred by the world. but gwilym had held out his hand, beckoning charlie over during the vows; he’d crouched, looked deep into charlie’s eyes, and promised to love and care for him as his own—the memory made you choke on a sob, the sound echoing around the shower walls.

god, you hate him.

you slip into bed, hair wet and unbrushed, with a groan. travel to prince edward island and your parent’s retirement home will be long and exhausting. an eight hour flight from heathrow to jfk, a six hour layover in new york, and then another flight to charlottetown. your head already aches, and you haven’t even reached the airport.

despite everything in you screaming don’t do it, you check your phone one last time. it’s blank, but you pull up gwil’s name in your messages anyway. as quickly as you can, averting your eyes from the long line of unanswered texts, you type your message:

headed to pei. taking charlie. don’t have a return date yet.

message sent, stomach churning, you fall into a restless sleep.

you’re antsy. after eight hours on a plane, your legs are tight and you long for fresh air. charlie’s in much the same state. though he’d enjoyed the novelty of a plane ride for the first hour, for the remaining seven it was a chore just to get him to sit still. now, he’s bouncing on his heels, teddybear in hand, humming a nonsensical tune far too loud in the line to the toilet.

“charlie.” you squeeze his hand tight. “shush.”

the line inches forward, and charlie blows a raspberry with his tongue. “i’m tired, and i’m hungry.”

you sigh. “i’ve just got to go to the loo and then we’ll find something to eat.”

“are we going to go into the city?”

“no, i don’t think we have the time.” it’s a lie—you have six hours to kill—but you can’t think of anything you’d do that wouldn’t make you pine for gwilym. it’s easier to stay in the cool airport, plug charlie in with a movie, and read your book.

“doesn’t uncle joe live here?”

“yes, he does.”

leading charlie into the bathroom, you corral him to the nearest open stall. he pushes his forehead against the stall door, his back turned to you as you relieve yourself.

“we should go see him.” his voice is muffled against the door, and you try not to think of all the new germs crawling over his face.

“i told you, baby, we don’t have the time.”

after washing your hands and exiting the bathroom, you find an empty table and sit down. charlie sits next to you, his legs swinging back and forth. he watches the people passing by, and you wonder if he’s picked the trait up from gwilym.

he looks so much like gwil it’s startling. maybe it’s because you’ve watched them side by side the last two years, but charlie truly does look like gwilym’s natural born son. it’s in his face: the soft eyes, strong nose, full lips. it’s in his mannerisms: his easy smile, soft voice, eagerness to listen. not for the first time, you wonder if you’ll have any more children and if they will take after their father. you used to hope so; now you’re not so sure.

shaking your head, you clear your throat and reach for your phone. you’d left london to get away from the house so full of memories and sweet times together. you’d left london to have a moment of peace, cry in the arms of your mother, and figure out what to do next. you didn’t leave home just to have it all follow you.

sliding open the phone, you search for joe’s name in your contacts list. you dial the number, glancing at your son as the phone rings in your ear. some part of you hopes he won’t answer, so you don’t have to answer any questions. another part of you wants—needs—a familiar face.

he picks up on the third ring. “[y/n]! to what do i owe this great honor?”

you find yourself smiling at the genuine happiness in his voice. “well, it’s short notice, but charlie and i are currently sitting in jfk. we’ve got a six hour layover...” you let the implication hang in the air, knowing full well he’ll pounce.

you can already hear his keys jangling on the other end. “i’ll be there asap.”

an hour later, you’re sat in a restaurant overlooking times square. you hadn’t planned on going into the city, but joe insisted. he wanted to show his nephew the sights—as many as he could in a few hours time—but charlie insisted he be fed first. now, sitting across from your son and joe, plates laden with overpriced food, you notice a lightness in your chest you haven’t felt for some time. it’s nice to see someone you care about, and joe is unusually tactful in his conversation. he’s tiptoed around the topic of gwilym and ‘the great’ and for that, you’re thankful.

“so, charlie’s told me all about school, which, apparently, rocks,” joe says between bites of a burger. “what’s up with you, [y/n]? how’s married life treatin’ you?”

you know it’s partly a jest—he’s asked the same question nearly every time you’ve spoken since you married gwilym—but there’s also a level of true interest in his query. but you shift in your chair, wincing as you turn to look at the busy street below. and perhaps he notices because he hurries to say instead:

“seen brian lately?”

this you can answer without crying or shouting or slumping low in your seat. nodding, you look to charlie. “we went over for dinner a few nights ago, didn’t we? tell joe what grandpa bri said.”

charlie keeps his focus on his mac & cheese as he speaks. “he said if i tried really hard i could have hair like his, but i told him i don’t want to look like a poodle.”

joe laughs, his head tossed back, his hands clapping together in sheer joy. you laugh, too, despite remembering the utter embarrassment you’d felt at brian and anita’s dining room table.

charlie grins, his eyes darting back and forth between each adult’s reaction. he’s pleased with himself, the pride on his face all too real. “mama made me say sorry.”

“i hope she did,” joe says with a chuckle. “that’s brutal, charlie.”

charlie’s forehead puckers in a frown. “daddy says always tell the truth.”

“yeah, but you gotta...” joe waves his hand, shaking his head. “never mind.”

a moment of quiet falls over the table. you’ve barely touched your salad, finding that, although your stomach growls with hunger, you don’t have the energy to eat. joe’s looking at you with open curiosity, and it makes you squirm. he knows something’s up, but now is not the time to unburden yourself. not with charlie sitting so close, not with your heart as tender as it is. one wrong move and you knew you’d fall into joe’s arms, a sobbing mess in the middle of the restaurant.

what dignity you have left, you’d like to preserve.

“what do you think about going to the park?”

joe’s eyes narrow across the table. “central park?”

“you said you want to show charlie the sights.”

joe glances at your unfinished food then your face. still, he says nothing. instead, he pays for the meal, even though you try and slide your card over his when the waiter comes by. you leave your salad and grab charlie’s hand as you exit the restaurant. you’re possessive that way—always needing to hold on to some part of your son; you’re the same with gwilym. neither seem to mind, so whenever you’re able, you hold charlie’s hand while crossing the street or you run your nails gently over the back of gwil’s neck as he likes it. you suppose, with charlie, it’s a mother thing. one day he won’t lean into your shoulder when you wrap an arm around him, so you take every chance to hold him that you can. you suppose, with gwil, it’s a wife thing. though you aren’t a huge fan of pda, you like letting others know he’s yours.

you hope he still is.

the day is warm, sticky with humidity. as you walk the few blocks to central park, joe points out his favorite landmarks. charlie seems interested enough, though he’s much more concerned with pointing out every pigeon than he is responding to joe’s explanations of the buildings around him. a fine pool of sweat gathers under your arms, and you soon shed your cardigan. the frigid air conditioning of the airport will be a welcome feeling once you’ve returned to jfk.

joe leads you to a playground, tucked away behind overgrown hedges. charlie drops your hand and rushes for the jungle gym, his faithful teddybear flinging in the wind behind him. with a soft smile, you collapse on the nearest bench and reach for your water bottle. after a sip, you offer it to joe, who shakes his head.

you know what’s coming. he’s going to ask about gwilym, and you’re going to have to come up with a suitable answer. you don’t have a suitable answer, not one that would keep your issues private but at least clue him in somewhat. finally, when the silence is overbearing, you give a short sigh.

“well, out with it, mazzello.”

he feigns shock. “out with what? i’m enjoying the sound of the birds.”

“you’ve been studying me all through lunch. tell me what you’re thinking before i scream.” you know you sound petulant, but it’s hot and eight hours on a plane with a wiggly child was hard. more than anything, you want to be home—not in london. the last two weeks have been hell, walking through the halls, visibly watching gwilym slip away, and having no clue what to do. no, you want your mother, and her home—whether it be prince edward island or the ridiculous summer home in lyon—is your home.

joe glances sidelong at you, his face drawn tight. when he speaks, his tone is serious, one you don’t hear from him often. “is there something going on? between you and gwil?”

despite knowing it was coming, the question still makes you want to wretch. you look away, curling your hands around the water bottle. it cracks between your fingers.

you decide to lie. it’s easier that way.

“no... no, not really.”

joe tries, but fails to catch your eye. “it’s just that... you seem really depressed. i thought maybe with him being gone...”

he’s given you an excuse—maybe on purpose, maybe on accident—but you jump for it, cursing yourself for not thinking of it on your own. “i mean, yeah, it’s been hard. it’s been—fuck—nearly two months now.”

“that’s a long time.”

you nod and return your attention to charlie, who is swinging on the monkey bars with ease. “yeah, it is, but he should be due for a few days off soon. he might be able to come back for a long weekend.” you grit your teeth against the words. they taste sour, and you take another sip of water to wash away the bad taste.

“[y/n]—”

twisting on the bench, you give joe a look that shuts his mouth with a snap. “we’re fine, joe,” you say, though, now more than even, it is clear you are not fine. you hold his gaze, daring him to push further.

he doesn’t. he just stands, hands in his pockets, and shuffles over to charlie with a nod.

wrinkling your nose against the sudden sting of tears, you lean back against the bench. a branch from the bush behind you digs into the skin of your shoulders, and any breeze which drifts your way smells vaguely of piss. that’s new york, you suppose: people as prickly as branches and the persistent smell of bodily functions. altogether, not terribly different from london.

your phone pings, but for once, you hold still, your tongue clamped between your teeth. your heart tells you it’s gwilym, finally woken from whatever slumber he’s been under, apologetic and eager to make amends. your mind tells you otherwise; it’s likely the airlines or your mother or katie. never gwilym; not anymore.

the message on your screen is from instagram, and you ignore the traitorous twinge of disappointment in your chest. frowning, you open the app, certain you’d turned notifications off long ago. what loads first in your timeline is a series of five photos. days off in pompeii, gwil’s caption reads. you don’t bother to swipe through the photos. you exit the app, delete it for good measure, and slide the phone back into your purse.

rising from the bench, you find joe and charlie hunkered beneath a slide. they’re imagining dinosaurs and jeeps and dangerous missions in the forest. with a smile, you drop to your hands and knees and join them, intent on enjoying what time you have left.

joe drops you off at the airport with plenty of time to spare. in the cell phone parking lot, you gather around the hood of his car for a final goodbye. joe slips charlie a fresh five dollar bill for the snack machine when he thinks you aren’t looking, and it’s the most uncle move you’ve ever seen. it warms your frigid heart, so much so, you nod to the back of the car.

“make sure you haven’t forgotten anything, love. we don’t know when we’ll be back if you’ve left something.”

charlie ambles his way behind the car, inspecting his new money, and when he’s out of earshot, you turn to joe.

“i’m going to talk,” you say. “and you’re going to listen and say nothing when i’ve finished. is that understood?”

his eyes are wide as he nods.

“i haven’t heard from gwil in nearly five days now. last week, his texts got shorter and more infrequent and he stopped calling. this week, he hasn’t responded to any of my messages, voicemails, or otherwise. so two days ago, i gave up and i stopped reaching out. it’s been radio silent since, and i don’t know why. so, that’s what’s going on, and why i’m so goddamn depressed. but if i find out that you’ve called him and tried to make him see sense, i will never forgive you, joseph. do you understand me?”

his only response is a shocked blink, but it satisfies.

“it’s my marriage,” you continue. “i have absolutely no idea what i’m doing, but it’s my marriage, and i’ll figure it out whatever way i can.”

there’s a pause then joe crushes you against his chest before you can stop him. his hug is painful. your left arm is caught between his chest and yours, your right shoved across his shoulders awkwardly. his arms tighten the strap of your purse against your neck, and you’re sure there will be a harsh red line when you pull back. but you don’t care. you let joe hug you. there’s pity in the embrace, but more than that, there’s love, and you feel it. love for you, for gwil, for charlie.

charlie’s voice breaks the moment, for which you’re glad. a second longer and you’d have started crying. “i didn’t leave anything but i found a dollar.”

wiping the underside of your eyes, you push away from joe and turn to your son with a smile. “wow—six dollars in one day! what are you going to do with all that cash?”

charlie shrugs and shoves the bill in his pocket. “i dunno. maybe buy my own plane.”

“so fiscally responsible. i’m proud.” joe ruffles charlie’s hair, grinning. “will you let me take a ride for free?”

charlie looks joe up and down then nods. “i guess. you did buy me lunch, so it seems like a fair trade.”

“we’d better go.” you reach for charlie’s shoulder. “thank you, joe,” you say, hand curling around the handle of your suitcase.

his smile fades around the edges, and you see a sigh lift his shoulders. “take care of yourself, [y/n].”

“i always do.”

he rolls his eyes. “you know what i mean.”

you look away, but nod. “tell your family we said hi.”

joe sticks his hand out to charlie, who shakes it with some trepidation. “look after your mom, charlie.”

“yeah, okay.”

you leave, bags dragging behind you, slamming against your ankles, with a wave. it hurts to watch joe stand there, hands in his pockets, ratty baseball hat on his head, looking so forlorn. you know that, if you asked it, he’d find gwilym and make him set things right. but this is your fight. no one else’s.

an hour and a half later, you’re strapped in your assigned seat, charlie’s head on your lap. his cheek is hot against your thigh, his chest rising and falling to the gentle rhythm of sleep. as the plane takes off, you glance out the window and watch as the world fades from view. you can’t help but think that somewhere below is a family much like yours.

you imagine them sitting down to dinner, laughing, catching up on the day, looks of love shared across the table. you imagine the mother and father, finding a moment of stolen passion against the pantry door as the son settles down for an evening movie. you imagine her laugh as he mumbles filthy things against the skin of her neck, things that set her heart ablaze. you imagine the way his hand strokes over her leg throughout the movie, his eyes meeting hers every now and then over their son’s head. and you imagine him laying her down on the bed, caressing, loving, worshipping her until they are spent.

some time ago, your life had looked similar. it doesn’t anymore, and you aren’t sure why or what you’ve done wrong.

the flight attendant pulls you from your thoughts. “can i get you anything, ma’am?” she asks.

a flood of answers rise to your chest. a phone call, an answer to prayers, my husband. instead, you shake your head. “no, but thank you.”

your parent’s home is picture perfect, like something out of a magazine: the long, winding drive framed by lush trees, the pale stonework crawling with ivy, the faded green shutters, and chipped picket fence. you’ve come once since it was bought. your parents, ever the world travelers, surprised you when they announced their move to their maritime provinces, and due to your teaching job, new relationship with gwilym, and concern for your student charlie, you’d only had the chance to visit for a short weekend.

as your father pulls up the drive, you nudge your mother with your shoulder. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were trying to be anne shirley, mother.”

your mother tosses her head back with a laugh. her sunglasses are overly large, but you can still see the laugh lines around her eyes. “of course i am, dear. much to your father’s chagrin.”

from the driver’s seat, your father merely huffs. he makes a face at charlie who, buckled tight in the passenger seat for the last few miles of the journey, giggles behind his hand.

your mother slides her hand across the bench. her fingers tap the bone of your wrist, and you look away from the window. she’s pushed her sunglasses over her hair, and her painted lips are drawn light.

“we’re so glad you’re here, sweetheart.” her tone is soft, apologetic.

the corner of your mouth twitches into something close to a smile. “me too.”

“okay, last stop. everybody out.” your father parks the car and pops the trunk.

you follow your parents to the front door as charlie races around your legs, babbling questions and comments as if he’s never spoken a word in his life. your father, who bears the brunt of charlie’s attention, takes it all in stride. tim, your brother—god help him—blessed your parents with eight grandchildren before you managed to give them one of your own. anything charlie has to throw at your parents, they will surely be able to handle.

after a light supper, charlie convinces his new grandfather to take him to to the river at the base of the property. he’s eager to find worms and, if your father can get free labor in return for fish bate, he’ll take it. they walk off, the sun dipping closer to the horizon as the day draws to a close. your mother stands in the doorway and nods her head toward the garden.

“come help me.” her request is more of a command, but you listen, grabbing a watering can from the back stoop as you trail after her.

the air on the island is fresh, slightly salty but sweet. you breathe deep, reveling beneath the open sky, unobscured by wires or skyscrapers or aircraft. your mother’s garden sprawls across the backyard. a ladder rests against the apple tree in the corner, heavy with fruit. raised flowerbeds with soft brown dirt sprout with tomatoes and snap-pea vines and peppers. a strawberry patch, struggling but alive, stands on its own. there’s a foam pad on the ground, and your mother kneels on it, reaching for her gardening tools.

“there should be some grape tomatoes ready,” she says, pointing to the plant. “gather what you can in this.” she passes you a paper container, and you set to work.

the birds twittering and the unhurried breeze work to soothe the ache in your soul. you could get used to this, a simple life here. the thought startles you, and you drop the tomato in your hand. it lands on your foot with a splat, covering your toes in sticky juice.

coming here, leaving london, you never thought for a moment it would be permanent. you just needed a change of scenery, a place to clear your thoughts. you have no intention of leaving gwilym. god, though he’d ripped your heart out, until he said the words, you’ll stay by his side forever.

“sweetheart? [y/n]?”

you look up. “huh?”

your mother frowns. “you’re just standing there.”

“am i? oh, sorry.” you turn back to the tomato plant and rip whatever red bubble crosses your eyeline. the tomatoes drop to your container with a muted thud, echoing the fragile beat of your heart.

“do you want to talk about it?”

you meet her gaze, and the worry, the concern, the love there nearly drives you to your knees. for days on end, you’ve been shoving it down—the fear. it’s not helpful, not to you or charlie or anyone else. for days on end, you’ve been choking back your anxiety, telling yourself it’s all just a misunderstanding. now, in your mother’s garden, with the weight of the world bearing down on your shoulders, you break.

the tomato container falls to the ground as your hands clamp against your mouth. you cannot stop the sobs which shake your frame, but you can at least muffle them against your fingers. the world becomes hazy, a blurry mess as your tears flow free and steady. vaguely, you’re aware of your mother’s arms around you, holding you tight; her hands rub soothing circles over your back. she smells of vanilla and shampoo.

you don’t know how long you cry, but when you finally step back, the sky is a dark red. you wonder if charlie’s come back from the creek, if he’s seen you in such a state. you pray to god he hasn’t. gently, your mother leads you to a wooden bench tucked against the fence. you sit together, your head cradled between her chin and shoulder. she smoothes your hair with one hand and holds your other.

“i’m so afraid, mum,” you breathe. your throat is clogged with emotion, your nose, too.

“of what?”

sniffing, you wipe your nose. “that he’s gone and met someone else. that he’s forgotten us.”

you feel her shrug against you. “well, i’ve only met the lad once, but he doesn’t seem like the type.”

“he’s not,” you say, stronger, clearer. “he’s not. but it’s been five fucking days. five days! and he’s been half-there for longer.”

“i don’t know what to tell you, love.” she twists to look at your face. “your father and i... we’ve had a good run of it, but that doesn’t mean we’ve not had our own issues. sometimes—sometimes people hurt those they love most.”

“did dad ever disappear on you?”

“no, i can’t say he did.” she sighs. “but he did shag my best mate cheri.”

“aunt cheri?”

nodding, your mother looks into the distance. “i nearly chopped his balls off.”

“why didn’t you?”

“because we love each other. we worked it out.”

with a scoff, you look away. “you’re in the minority.”

“you can be in that minority, too.” she grabs your hand. “your relationship... everything you’ve had with him has been so much so fast—”

“i know.” your head drops as a fresh flurry of tears rise. “that’s what i’m afraid of.”

“you didn’t let me finish.” your eyes lift to see her watching you, a faint glow of motherly pride on her cheeks. “everything you’ve had with gwilym has been so much so fast, but every time i see your photos or your videos, he looks like he’s about to fall over because he loves you so much. i don’t pretend to know what’s going on in his head; i’d reckon he doesn’t know either. but you have something worth fighting for, [y/n]. i’d hate to see you give that up.”

“i don’t want to,” you whisper.

“then don’t.”

you kiss charlie’s forehead and slip out of the guest room, shutting the door behind you. the house is quiet, asleep before ten thanks to the excitement of the day and the weariness of travel. you find your bedroom, cozy, tucked away in the third floor attic. your mother claims she had it redone just for your visits. the window seat framed by bookshelves and the wrought-iron bed frame remind you of your childhood room, yet there is an elegance here your room lacked as a child.

after readying yourself for bed, you glance about the room. the rug beneath your feet is soft to the touch, and the upholstered chair in the corner has a fresh set of bath towels. there’s an exposed brick wall with three photos nailed to it. you step closer to inspect.

three photos.

a family photo from age nine, your parents side-by-side, your brother’s arm slung around your shoulder. much of your childhood consisted of moving from country to country, always following your father’s job. you’d been happy, though, and looking at the photo now, you feel a surge of gratitude.

a photo of your first classroom, the students sat at your feet. charlie stands directly to your left, his face leaning into your hip. you hadn’t known then, what he would mean to you know. you run your finger across his face, still pudgy with baby fat.

the third and final photo, a picture from your honeymoon. the austrian mountains tower over you in the background, the sky effortlessly blue and picturesque. gwilym is well-dressed and handsome, smiling down at you, his arm curved around your waist. you’re looking up at him, laughing, holding the straw hat against your head as a gust of wind attempts to whisk it away.

your chest expands with love, for your family, your son, even your husband.

you aren’t sure how things will turn out. for all you know, gwilym very well could have met someone else; he could be making plans to leave you as you slide under the covers. yet something tells you—maybe it’s hope, maybe it’s foolishness—that’s not the case.

you check your phone. empty, as per the usual. this time it doesn’t fill you with as much dread as normal. he’ll come around. one way or another, things will get sorted. you’re willing to fight for that.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap fic #j writes #fic collab

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xiaomomowrites · 4 years

Text

hiraeth

Legend of Korra | Kainora

Summary: Kai gets tired of this long distance thing first. Full disclosure, the unmistakable feeling of this dreaded distance has been building up for months now, and the only thing that kept the truth stuck in his throat was the fact that it felt completely and utterly selfish to admit it out loud. Even to himself. “Last chance to tell me not to go,” he looks down at her surprised expression. Jinora’s mouth twitches into a bitter smile, humoring him. “Don’t go."

Find this story on AO3 and Fanfiction!

A/N: Wow haha. Every time I take a "short" break from writing, it always ends up being like a year or so. I've been working on this one since Netflix dropped Korra this summer actually, because I remember how much this ship makes me feel things lol. Also because I was totally robbed of these two in season 4. I adore this sunshine ship, but you know me, I have a weird affinity for angst. Anyway, enjoy! - s.a.

hiraeth - (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

Kai gets tired of this long distance thing first.

At least, that’s what it looks like to him whenever he’s waiting on a response from his busy significant other.

Full disclosure, the unmistakable feeling of this dreaded distance has been building up for months now, and the only thing that kept the truth stuck in his throat was the fact that it felt completely and utterly selfish to admit it out loud. Even to himself.

He’s an airbender too, for Raava’s sake. The expectation is that he is a picture of patience and an expert at disassociating from the pull of earthly ties. It really doesn’t help either that this is not just some simple cookie cutter relationship with a normal girl. In which, maybe a couple months of separation and no contact probably meant it was over. Instead, their relationship is decorated with the complexities of being responsible for a whole nation’s growth and wellbeing, and half of this pair, a master Airbender, was an important figure in this mission.

Kai ultimately understood that the years they had spent together so far built quite a solid foundation for setbacks like this. The communication, the genuine love, and the mutual understanding seemed like the perfect equation for a relationship that could withstand the turbulence of long distance.

But sometimes he just felt like there was no room to be...clingy. And that kinda sucked.

At first, the occasional reunions were sufficient.

There was pep in his step when he worked, knowing that he would always come home to her. Work hours would go by quickly when he knew there was a phone call waiting for him at the end of the day. It became natural to expect an incoming letter (he has kept every single one) that went on about anything and everything in his absence. He always adored the way he could read them in her voice; anyone with a functioning pair of eyes would be able to see the strength of their love in the beginning.

“He must have a lucky lady in his life,” people in passing would say, commenting on the way he held his chin up. It was easy to pinpoint the source of this glow about the young airbender.

Counting down the days was so much easier when the finish line was always palpable.

But that was just the beginning.

The beginning, four years ago, before Jinora became significantly more occupied with significantly more responsibilities. This was before the population of the new air nation had practically doubled, and before issues started arising left and right as a consequence of the Avatar’s disappearance and, subsequently, Kuvira’s attempted tyranny. Things were different before, and so he coined the term, and used it with venom whenever he would spill all his frustrations to Opal.

Although there was a brief period following the fall of Kuvira's army where things seemed to slow down a little, the world quickly picked up its pace once more, sending him off to travel the world and keeping her where she was needed the most.

In retrospect, it was naive to think they would be let off the hook just because they were two teenagers in love, impending doom no longer looming over their shoulders. Of course, they both knew it was only a matter of time before more work and real obligations towered over them and their relationship. But at the time, it was easy to focus on being grateful for the extra time together, until the thought of being separated again so shortly after inevitably dampened the mood. And what neither of them expected was the toll this distance would take on a couple of youngsters in love that feel with every fiber of their being.

Kai sighs, twirling the pen in his hand. The paper underneath his other hand remained painfully blank. It stared at him teasingly and he simply stared back, daring it to make a comment on him not being able to come up with anything to say.

He always had something to say.

“What’s wrong?” Opal asks, materializing beside him and setting down a small bowl wrapped up neatly in front of him. Kai watches as the tied handles of the plastic bag fall softly onto his writing hand and only then does he remember where he is. He glances at his friend, hoping she didn’t just catch him slipping, and replaces the pen in his hand with a pair of chopsticks.

“Oh, I’m just trying to write a letter,” he sounds unbothered, but the young Beifong understands.

She eyes the blank parchment pushed off to the side.

"What was the last thing she wrote?"

"Meelo turned eleven the other day," he answers easily, remembering that letter was read five times over in an attempt to conjure a response.

It wasn't even that her letters were poorly written or empty. Despite the fact that she may not have written nearly as often as before, there were definitely still traces of her heart in every piece of parchment sent his way. Her words were still punctuated with a love that just made him miss her more.

They had just been growing...a little distant.

He hated to admit it, but it was just a feeling not quite explainable, when sometimes there was just nothing else to say. And so sometimes he didn't respond at all.

It was unintentional, of course.

"Eleven, huh?” Opal breaks the silence, “I wonder how tall he’s gotten.”

"He's up to her shoulders now."

“Hmmm, well why don't you ask her how all the training is going?”

“I’ve already asked her,” he says, half of his mouth full, “in like every other letter I’ve sent in the last few weeks. Training is great, that doesn’t really change.”

"Training is going great, huh?" she laughs, an attempt to lighten the mood. “That’s not what I remember.”

Kai let out an amused sigh, "it's probably only fun if you're running it."

They recall the training they had to endure before graduating onto traveling the world. To say that it was smooth sailing all the time was quite a stretch. Opal makes a sound of understanding, before swallowing to speak again.

“I’d love to run training with some new airbenders. Doesn’t that sound fun? You always loved showing everyone up at the obstacle course.”

“What?” he feigns modesty, “Please, Opal, you flatter me.”

She chuckles, content with managing to uplift his mood a little. “When do you think you’ll get your tattoos?”

“Oof, I’m not sure,” he answers honestly, twirling a finger to blow air on the hot food. “I think I still have a few techniques to perfect. Master Tenzin isn’t gonna let me off easy just because I showed potential in the beginning. And Jinora says I still have a lot to work on spiritually.”

"You practice though, right?”

Kai waves a hand dismissively, "yeah, when she leads meditation exercises."

“Hah, well I think if you spent more time focusing on meditating instead of staring at her all the time, you’d get more done.”

“Whatever,” Kai blushes, smiling, and hides his face into his food. “Anyway, it can’t be easy teaching that stuff.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to bother you with the stressful parts,” Opal suggests, though it seemed to do more harm than help when her friend makes a sound resembling a scoff.

He recalls the picture perfect image of his girlfriend in his head, a little hazy now, perhaps from the distance. She was always so strong and responsible, it’s definitely easy for someone from the outside to assume Jinora doesn’t bother people with her struggles. But that wasn’t true for him. Around him, her walls crumble. In the beginning it chipped away slowly before tumbling all at once, and there stood Jinora in her rawest, purest form. To an outsider, Jinora was an incredibly talented master airbender fully capable of taking on the same responsibilities her grandfather shouldered in his late days. To Kai, she was a bundle of insecurities densely packed into a fifteen year old girl that, air nation responsibilities aside, just wanted to spend time with her boyfriend.

“She always tells me when something is bothering her.”

Kai sighs into his food before taking another defeated mouthful.

“Letters are tricky,” she watches, amused, as he idly sat there stirring his food around. The last bite is still stuck in his cheek making him look like a distressed squirrel.

“I just miss talking to her. And I mean really talking to her, not this awkward small talk over letters.” He waves his hand through the air lazily, hoping that the movement conveys his frustrations properly.

“So you prefer some good ol’ quality time,” Opal states easily, shifting in her seat. “Nothing wrong with that.”

She earns a smile from her friend, “Yeah, I guess not.”

“Hmm...oh! Can’t she talk to you with her spirit?” Kai stiffens at the suggestion, and she immediately recognizes that she struck a nerve.

“She’s busy, I think.”

“You think?”

A pause.

“I don’t know. Maybe we’ve just felt really disconnected lately.”

He recalls the first time she found him through this connection of theirs since he had left Air Temple Island. It was incredibly relieving to finally get to speak to her and see her face. They talked for hours that night, and he can still remember how badly he wanted to reach out and kiss her. It would have been so easy to, really. To simply reach out and cup her jaw, inching closer until they met in the middle and Jinora would promptly forget what she was going on about. His lips had tingled at the thought.

But he remembers her smile, so alluring and contagious, and not having seen it for months was such a sight for sore eyes. The young airbender’s radiance was simply too distracting to be thinking of anything else. She had finished telling him something, fully aware that at this point he was just looking at her lips with much longing. Jinora must have understood where his train of thought was heading, because the soft laugh at his smitten expression served as the cruel reminder that no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he manifested it, he couldn’t actually just reach out and get what he wanted.

Really, it seemed like that was the only setback to this method of communication.

But he remembers another time she contacted him like this, and told him that her father says she should refrain from abusing this ability for worldly purposes. And above all else, Kai could only remember the sinking feeling of disappointment curdling in his stomach only seconds after she had told him. But this was Jinora, and she had responsibilities. The next few spiritual visits, much to his displeasure, were much shorter. She surprised him, however, as she continued to seek out his presence. Perhaps there was a thrill to the idea of ‘hurry before my father finds out’ that they both seemed to feed off of, but Kai could tell that she was incredibly torn between him and her integrity.

The very thought of Kai being the reason she willingly goes against her very essence: obedient, honorable, and understanding, is painful in itself. And every time she would bid him goodbye and her figure would dissolve into thin air, he was always rudely reminded of how cold and empty these hotel rooms really were.

So he tells her this.

And he watches as the bright smile on her face leaves so quickly and yet so slowly when he says with carefully chosen words, “Maybe we should just stick to writing letters and phone calls.”

At the time, Kai was so sure this was the best course of action, considering this selfless act was supposed to encourage her to focus on her work and not practice defiance. It made sense to remove himself from that equation to preserve her integrity, but at the end of the day it really wasn’t making him feel better at all.

Jinora pauses for a moment, processing his suggestion.

“Right,” she concedes easily, breaking eye contact, “I should go, then. It’s getting late.”

"What?” he blinks, “Why?"

Jinora hesitates, and it feels like she might be giving him a chance to protest and take it back.

He doesn't.

"You're right, and it's late. You should get some rest."

Kai’s heart is in his stomach and he feels every muscle in his body contract painfully as he tries not to panic and do something stupid, like beg her not to leave him. If silence wins this round, then he has no idea when they'll be able to talk again.

Kai seems to find it incredibly difficult to breathe, and he curses his own element for leaving him at a time like this.

“Yeah,” he breathes, unsure of what else to say; his vocal chords seem to be on autopilot. He swallows thickly, feeling his throat click.

What he doesn’t realize is that Jinora had seemed to take this as rejection, her eyebrows meeting ever so slightly as she bites out, “I’ll write to you then.”

“Of course.”

“Good night.”

It’s only when her form flickers a few times before disappearing completely that he snaps back to his senses, her name leaving his throat in a sort of panic. When the light of her spirit is replaced by the darkness of the room again he realizes he’s on his knees, chest heavy.

He doesn’t get a letter for a week and a half.

Opal watches her younger friend marinate in his feelings for a minute before she adds, “I’m sure she misses talking to you too, Kai.”

“But it’s not just that,” he replies, fully aware that she might have just broken the dam that was holding all his feelings together. “I miss spending time with her too. Sometimes we would just sit in silence under her favorite tree while she read a book, or- or whatever. Nothing mattered. Arguments didn’t matter, problems didn’t matter; we knew we could work through anything as long as we were- as long as we were together.

I told her we’d be okay. I told her...ugh, I told her I would understand when she got busier and needed to focus on work, but now I feel like it’s my fault this isn’t working because I’m starting to get a little impatient. This whole thing is just so...so-”

“I know,” Opal responds, stern, but full of understanding when he can’t seem to find the rest of that sentence. "Long distance isn't easy, Kai. I understand."

She offers a bright smile and it seems to get through to him as he visibly relaxes from feeling validated.

"Oh, right."

"Communication is a two way street though," the older Airbender continues, and his stomach twists at the reminder of this recent rift in the relationship that targeted one of the things he thought they had mastered. "Maybe you just need to have a heart to heart conversation in person.”

Now part of Kai craved this solution. The part of him that understood that relationships require effort and craved her understanding. Perhaps a little communication was all they needed to clear the air, but the irrational side of him whispered a little louder in his ear, and turned him to believe that there was a chance that kind of conversation could end this relationship.

He finds himself back at Air Temple Island a week after his talk with Opal, hoping to get to talk to her in between debriefing and work related affairs.

When she sees him in all his cheesy glory (a panda lily in one hand and her favorite tart from the city in the other), it’s incredibly hard not to swoon in front of her pupils in training. Her expression of excitement and the surprise in her tone made it impossible to remember, for a second, that there ever was any tension between them.

Then he remembers the group of airbenders she was in the middle of training, as all eyes were on them, and he promises to meet her in their usual spot that night.

“Hey stranger,” she greets, settling in beside him under the tree. The proximity immediately brought waves of relief and an unmistakable love that they were both awfully aware had been missing for a while.

“You’re late,” he teases.

“No, you’re just early,” she jokes, worming her way underneath his arm and up against his side like it was just where she belonged. “What brings you here on this fine evening?”

“You,” he answers, unable to fight a stupid cheeky smile.

She laughs, and he decides easily that he missed every part of her. "Charming. How have you been?”

“Alright, I guess. Lots of traveling, it gets a little exhausting sometimes.”

“I bet.” Jinora reaches up to play with a stray long fringe of hair that fell to his nose. “Sounds like you’ve been working a lot.”

“It's alright, just a lot to do. If it's not the heavy lifting it's some sort of civilian related crisis. Being on call is pretty taxing."

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she thumps the back of her head against his collarbone as she speaks, “as the only other master here- for now of course- there's so much on my plate. Even if it's split between me and my dad. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep with all the stress.”

"Sounds like you're doing great though," he brushes some hair from her face in return.

"Probably," she grins, and he chuckles.

"So humble."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love it! There’s so much to teach these new airbenders and we’re still getting new recruits here and there. I wish I had more time to goof off, like before.”

“Yeah that’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” it's hard to miss the change in his tone, but when she looks up, he's greeted by a warm smile. It was almost impossible to stay in a gloomy mood when Jinora and all her sunshine energy always found the good in situations.

Maybe that’s all he needed.

Jinora too feels warmth blooming in her chest when his eyes find hers.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

There's a comfortable silence that sits with them. A frog croaks nearby, but it's otherwise quiet. It could have been ten or thirty minutes before Jinora finds herself nodding off to sleep, half of her face smushed comfortably against his chest.

Hard to sleep, huh? He chuckles softly at her form. Maybe this was all she needed. Maybe this was all they needed.

Despite her shallow slumber, she notices the way he's fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve and interlocks their fingers to put a stop to the nervous habit.

“Is something bothering you?” Jinora asks, her voice now groggy.

“No, I…” he thinks about it for a second and realizes lying about this wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know, Jin, maybe,” he answers truthfully, passively. He only realizes he let the truth slip when her eyes are suddenly on him.

Jinora sits up slowly and faces him, bright and curious eyes prompting him to finish the thought wordlessly. “This just sucks sometimes, that’s all. Being away from you, like, all the time.”

"Then," she hesitates, aware of how selfish what comes next might sound, "come visit more."

He sighs and watches his own hand play with hers. "It's not that easy. Traveling is tiring, in between all of the work I'm assigned."

"Okay, well, what if you came by every time Republic City is on the way?"

"What?” Kai looks down at her, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, “No, it's the same thing, Jinora. The point is to travel as least as possible. Why don't you just talk to me more?"

"What?"

Well, he’s in over his head now, there really is no backing away from what they’ve started. He braces himself, explaining tentatively, “You just…I feel like you haven’t really been trying to keep contact as much...anymore.” Kai desperately hopes she can’t hear the slam of his heart against his chest.

Jinora seems taken aback at this accusation and lifts her eyebrows at him, equal parts bewilderment and confusion. She says the only thing her own aching heart could remember, “You’re the one who said I should stop trying to contact you with my spirit.”

"No, your dad said that. You and I both know it was for the best."

"You don't always write back either, Kai. I just assume you're busy, and that isn’t really fun for me either.”

“I just don’t know what to say sometimes, Jinora,” he confesses easily, exasperated. Kai retracts his hand from hers to run it stressfully through his hair, and it takes all her self control not to protest. The distressed teen takes a long, deep breath before continuing. “You’re also busy. Sometimes I feel like I’m just bothering you with my small talk.”

"Me too," her gaze is hard and challenging. He considers surrender for a second.

“You’re not bothering me,” Jinora says easily, tone softening. “I don’t need to have long, deep talks with you all the time. Sometimes, just...this, is really nice. This is enough.”

“I know,” Kai sighs, “but we can’t always have this.”

“Then I don’t know,” the young master breaks eye contact. “It's just been a lot to handle lately.” Her posture straightens and she suddenly feels miles farther from him.

'Is this too much to handle then?' he wants to ask, but the fear of any possible confirmation has a solid death grip on his throat, so he says nothing. Jinora continues.

"I can't just call you when I don't actually know where you're stationed. I figured you knew that."

“So it’s my fault?” he asks, suddenly painfully aware of how defensive and childish he may sound. For a second, he doesn’t care, frustration now at a high.

Guilt hits him for a second, and he almost doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Isn't this what he wanted to begin with? He wanted a face to face conversation. He wanted to be close to her, to hold her, to properly hear her voice again. Kai knew that he wanted a deep conversation to make up for the painful small talk they’ve been having for too long, but now that she's pouring her frustrations out, he doesn't seem to be catching them very well.

“I never said that!” she mirrors this spike in energy. The guilt is put on hold. “I’m just saying-”

"Okay, so how is me compromising even more on my side fair?"

"I don't think you want to start a conversation about what's fair."

"Why not? I'm doing everything I can, running around the world trying to do my job, so that it's easier for you to just stay here and-”

"Stay here?" She looks so taken aback by this, her cool slipping away as quickly as his. "You think I'm just hanging out at home while you do all the dirty work? I am doing everything I can to make your job easier and it...it really sucks, it's so much harder than it needs to be!"

Kai watches quietly as his mentor’s nostrils flare and realizes he doesn't think he's ever really seen her angry at him before. Last time he saw her raise her voice was at her dad regarding the whole master tattoos situation four years ago.

He wants to choose his next words carefully, aware that he might be walking on thin ice.

But there’s something endearing about the way she looks when she’s upset with him. Like the pout that decorates her usually bright features was just begging to be kissed away, and her seemingly distant posture is asking to be held close.

“Why are you smiling?” she asks, obviously trying to fight getting infected by his contagious smile.

Kai reaches up tentatively, encouraged when she allows the contact. He tilts her face upward and taps the underside of her chin once, charming her instantly with that stupid signature grin of his. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”

Jinora, now flustered, swats his hand away playfully.

"What’s harder than it needs to be?” he asks gently, delighted and relaxed when she lets him hold her hand again.

"That I just miss you. A lot. All the time."

Her eyes find him in the dim light, and it’s clear how brightly they shine in all her passion and emotion. The urge to lean in and kiss her was strong. It would be an easy temporary fix, Kai ponders. She misses him and he misses her, at least that fact was reinstated and it wasn’t an entirely unproductive conversation. He could kiss her goodnight, and it would be in the past. But still, the question of ‘what now’ still lingered, and alas, Kai knew this needed to be solved now.

“So, what then?” he resigns, sitting up to match her, allowing an entire wall of tension to build itself between the thirty centimeters between them, a growing chasm of adolescent feelings and assumptions.

"I don't know," she admits, and it seems more frustrating than it should be. She's Jinora, she always knows. "It's getting harder to balance everything in my life, and it just feels like you’re telling me that I’m not doing enough.”

“I never said that," he retreats, unable to deny that maybe he might have selfishly made it seem that way to her. "I just can’t seem to communicate with you well enough anymore.”

Jinora thinks about the time she had talked to Korra about why it didn’t work out between her and Mako, and the thought of her own relationship’s demise having the same cause shot fear up and down her spine. More than anything, all Jinora wanted to do was resume her rightful place beside him and stargaze in blissful ignorance.

Except now the night sky felt hot, or maybe it was just her that was feeling incredibly heated.

“I love you," she says softly, the way she looks at the ground makes her miss the look on his face when he’s taken aback for a second. “But we can’t just keep goofing off and putting feelings first...and expecting things to be fixed only when I get to see you.”

“You know how I feel about you, is it not enough?” she seemed to say with her eyes.

Her unspoken words seemed to clash with his own, “It really took you five years to outgrow me, huh?”

“Maybe this,” he gestures to the space between them instead, which now felt like a ravine, “this just isn’t…”

He knows it’s a last resort, because he’s just not sure how to deal with these things or his feelings regarding them, because it’s the first time in a long time he was faced with losing something he genuinely cared about. Maybe it’s wrong to file an empty threat, but the child inside him hopes she will deny this vehemently and everything can just go back to normal.

Nevermind the fact that it was selfish and irresponsible. Nevermind the fact that she looked like maybe she was on the brink of tears too.

Dejected, and out of things to say, Kai licks his lips and lets out a defeated sigh. Jinora watches him with wet eyes, her own panic building up behind the dam she so meticulously built.

Jinora, unsure of how to handle this either, (fifteen and an airbending master, but an overwhelmed teenager on the verge of heartbreak nonetheless), does what comes naturally to an airbender, and disengages gracefully.

“You have to be up early tomorrow,” she tells him through the panic, and he searches her words and her eyes for any hint of emotion to mirror the pain that's threatening at his heart.

“Okay,” he hopes she didn’t just hear his voice crack. “We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah," she keeps her eyes on the ground between them. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Kai moves to get up hesitantly but she stops him: grabs him by the hand and he feels the frantic nature of her actions. He understands her panic- she tells him with just one look- and when he sits back down she assumes her spot in his side.

He’s not sure if it took her twenty minutes or two hours to fall asleep beside him. But the way they clung to each other spoke volumes of how neither of them wanted to let go. In the time that she was dozing off he had enough time to contemplate what comes next, but the cycle of his thoughts seemed inconclusive.

It was refreshing to deal with this in person, yes, because it was easier to understand the mess of emotions this way. But instead of feeling like they can handle anything else that comes their way after this, Kai is left dreading the time he’d have to spend away from her again and the tension that it brings.

“Jinora,” he calls to her quietly, already apprehensive of what has to happen. She stirs slightly. “Let’s go, you can’t fall asleep out here.”

Reluctantly, they walk back to her room. The silence was both comforting and off-putting.

Half asleep, Jinora turns around to bid him good night when they reach her door, and Kai takes a mental picture of this for the road: the love of his life, blissfully unaware of anything but him, eyes half lidded, the soft light of her room behind her inviting him in.

He leans in to kiss her gingerly, resolving to let future Kai and future Jinora deal with this tomorrow.

She pulls him closer by the collar, an apology on her lips that he doesn’t need to hear to understand, and he returns the gesture.

It leaves a growing, comforting heat in his stomach and burns an important question within:

Was this a break up after all?

If anything, the next morning weighed much heavier on both of their hearts. His one knapsack in hand ready to go, Kai sighs and turns around to face her.

“Did you sleep?” she asks, frowning at the dark circles under his eyes.

“Not much,” he says truthfully, and notices she looks just as tired. “Did you?”

“No,” Jinora confesses, playfully jabbing at his chest. “You woke me up.”

He wonders for a second if she would have slept soundly, had they stayed outside together. The thought gets dismissed easily.

“Where are you headed?” She asks, and she watches him fidget with the bag in his hand. Her own hands itch to reach out to him, to pull him close and selfishly keep him here.

“I’m not sure. I was supposed to talk to your dad about it but he was in a meeting this morning.”

Jinora responds with a simple, “oh,” and she wonders if it was still possible to undo all the damage.

“Last chance to tell me not to go,” he looks down at her surprised expression, tired eyes wondering if she really could see past this lame attempt to disguise the pain with humor.

It was half a joke, half lame attempt at trying to confirm if they split up or not.

"It's a little late for that." She watches as a familiar look of pain wriggles into his expression very subtly, in a way only he can disguise but only she can decipher. Jinora’s mouth twitches into a bitter smile, humoring him. “Don’t go," she says softly, her tone matching his.

He doesn't expect the joke to have such an effect on him. So in a panic he plays along.

“Alas, it’s too late m’lady.” he staggers backward slightly, hand over his heart like one of those chumps in her favorite fictional novels. She giggles, and he thinks perhaps he can at least engrave the sound in his mind for the road. Who knows how long he can hold out without the sound of her voice. “Duty calls,” he says, half joking, half biting.

And then she grabs his hand, turning the air into a more serious one once again. “Kai...I-”

“Okay, Kai!” Ikki’s voice cuts through like a knife out of nowhere. “Daddy says your next assignment is in-- oh...uh…”

“Ikki…” Her sister’s scowl seems to be enough to scare her away. They look down at their hands and suddenly the younger sibling understands what's happening.

He squeezes her hand back, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry,” he says simply, certain that she understands exactly what he’s apologizing for, because maybe he’s not so sure anymore himself.

Thoughts in his head are running a hundred miles per hour as he leans in to kiss her goodbye out of pure muscle memory. But her wide eyes and hesitation served as a heavy reminder of their conversation last night and perhaps the final confirmation he was looking for.

It's the exact moment his heart breaks-- shatters, and he wonders if she can hear it too. The weight of her actions causes him to stumble a bit, and instead he switches directions to place an innocent kiss on her cheek, aware of her entire family now in proximity.

And as he steps back tentatively to leave indefinitely this time, she lets go of his hand.

Hiraeth settles in quickly and lingers far longer than Kai wants it to. Far longer than Jinora expects it to. And now that this distance feels so much worse than it ever has, they both wonder if it was really that bad before.

He avoids returning to Air Temple Island, fully aware that there is always a ninety nine percent chance she’d be there. Instead, he sends letters and telegrams to Tenzin regarding work, but always finds a quick witted excuse to avoid an in person visit (because if nothing else, he’s good at weaseling his way out of things, right?).

But with this active avoidance comes the grief of letting go of this home that filled a huge void in his life. The hospitality he received as a new member of the air nation family was incredibly cathartic, making it more and more difficult to remember what it felt like to be alone on the streets by himself. For the first time in his life, he felt loved and accepted enough to change his ways. And now the mere thought of returning to the very place that molded him toward the best version of himself made Kai’s stomach twist up in indecipherable knots.

Instead, Kai thinks maybe he should finally really take this airbending master thing seriously and work a little harder toward those tattoos. There really was no better time than post-heartbreak to focus on his spiritual growth, emotions now thrown into the void. Nevertheless, he wishes he had the luxury of being home. Of being comfortable, and surrounded by loved ones and familiar faces in the midst of stressful work.

Jinora, meanwhile, focuses on training the rest of the airbenders and stays rooted in the Island, with a small hope that maybe he would return eventually.

The first few weeks were the hardest for the late Avatar’s granddaughter.

There was a window of time in which perhaps she could expect a call or a letter saying everything was fine. But the longer she waited, the more it hurt to know that it wouldn’t come. Nevermind the small speck of hope that lingered, unsolicited. It was during a particularly difficult meditation session that she decided perhaps it was time to let that hope go.

Despite the distance and space she was given (to heal, in theory), it was more frustrating than anything to know she couldn't reach out to him even if she wanted to.

She envied his freedom, the luxury of keeping busy in new towns and meeting new people instead of being constantly reminded of their past everywhere she looked. His ghost seemed to haunt the island, eliciting some longing even she couldn’t dispel with meditation.

This was her home, the physical location in which she had grown up. Here, her family resided and now the extension of it too. So why did she feel like a large undeniable part of her heart, her home, wasn't here?

It takes Jinora almost a year to decide that perhaps this pain should have left by now. That maybe it wasn’t just a brief period of grief that would eventually pass. Maybe the connection Korra mentioned between them ages ago was more than they cared to believe at the time. Jinora would be lying if she said she hadn’t tried to project her spirit to him within the last year. Sometimes the longing was so strong, she let the best of the urge get to her. It was always to no avail, however, considering they hadn’t spoken in a while.

It’s on a particularly overwhelming day of work when Jinora hears the phone’s incessant ringing. When her father’s voice sounds from downstairs for her to take the call, she almost wants to smash the telephone.

“Hello?”

There’s a long pause from the other side, but before she can repeat herself, his voice startles her. “Jinora?”

She physically feels her heart drop seven levels into her stomach, and she wonders if he’ll buy it if she says it’s Ikki speaking.

“Kai,” she says his name, just as she had last said a year ago.

“Hey,” he chuckles nervously. “Sorry, I was expecting your dad.”

“Oh,” she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Uh, I can go get him-”

“No, it’s...it’s ok, I just…” he trails off, unable to tell her that this was actually a pleasant surprise. “I was just calling to report in.”

“Okay,” she bites her lip, fully aware that she looks like a flustered schoolgirl with the phone in her hands as if her life depended on it. “Shoot.”

“Right, well uh, there were some bad guys the other day. The usual. I mean not really the usual, it’s-it’s a safe town. Supposed to be safe, err, you know with us there. Ugh…"

She tries not to laugh at his fumbling, but ultimately fails.

"Don't laugh!" he says, almost whiny, but she can hear the smile in his voice and it makes her feel inexplicably happy. "I'm usually more professional than this!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, it's easier talking to your dad."

"It's easier talking to my dad," she repeats to make sure he hears how ridiculous that sounds, "really."

"Yes! Or, I don't know! Sorry, I just, argh…"

"Kai, relax, it's just me," she reminds him, feeling a wave of warmth from the familiarity. Hopefully he feels it too.

He pauses, unsure, but then it clicks.

"Right, yeah," and suddenly the nervous panic in his stomach is easily replaced with the familiar feeling, "it's just you."

She gives him a moment to recompose himself. How considerate, he muses, no wonder he's still smitten.

“So bad guys."

And then he launches into a story, far more comfortably than if he had to report to Tenzin. The conversation takes detour after detour, and it must have been forty minutes or so when Ikki intrudes.

“Who are you on the phone with? Dad’s asking. And mom wants to know when you’re coming down for dinner.”

Jinora’s attention is then split in half, waving her sister’s inquiries off.

“What? I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Ikki teases, cocking her head to feign confusion like the menace she is as she watches her sister mouth words demanding her to leave. She faintly hears the sound of a boy on the phone and her smirk grows tenfold.

“Jinora, stop trying to shoo me away, I know Kai’s on the line, but-” but she’s cut off when her sister shoves her out the door gracefully with a small gust of air. Ikki looks absolutely offended.

“Okay, whatever,” the younger sister shrugs, “you can tell mom and dad I tried.”

“Why are you still up anyway, it’s late!” Jinora calls out to her sister as she closes the door, and it slips her mind that she was also speaking into the phone.

“Oh, uh, yeah...sorry,” she hears him suddenly sound apprehensive. “I guess it is.”

“What?" Panic surges through her quickly. "Oh, no...I-”

“No, it’s okay, you’re right, it’s late.”

“I was talking to Ikki, I-”

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“Yeah.”

The silence that follows is full of awkward remorse for how the nice conversation was soiled so clumsily on both sides. Kai almost wants to laugh.

“Okay, well,” he is the first to break the silence, his voice cracking a little. She tries not to laugh. “It’s late, you should really get some rest.”

“Right, you too.”

A few seconds pass, but neither of them hang up.

“Sorry I called so late-”

“No no, it’s fine!” she blurts, and he tries to stop the smile. “It was nice talking to you.”

She hears him smile through the phone. “Yeah, likewise. Good night, Jin,” and her heart flutters at the nickname she hadn’t heard in a year. Jinora bites her lip hard and hopes he can’t hear the smile in her voice.

“Good night, Kai.”

It's frustrating.

Two months after that accidental phone call and he still feels a smile sneak its way onto his lips whenever it comes to mind. But nothing else really came from it -- not another letter or call or spirit-y visit -- and he wonders if he should just assume that was some form of closure and move on.

Kai understands that blowing off some steam is a little harder for an airbender that can’t just be picking fights wherever they see fit. So the next best outlet is playing vigilante, he reasons, as he crouches atop a billboard sign and eyes a shady looking fellow following a nobleman.

It reminds him a little- or a lot- of his past. It looked pathetic, prompting him to unpack that mess, and for a second the urge to assist this heist flared in his gut.

Kai loses his balance and falls backward from the intrusive thought, rattling the metal of the billboard frame and subsequently catching the attention of the thief. The eye contact shot panic up his spine as they both fled the scene immediately. Only once it was quiet again did he catch his breath and realize perhaps it wasn’t the running that winded him.

The young airbender settles in his room at the inn, exhausted and irritable. He opens a fortune cookie from some takeout he picked up along the way. It says some whimsical nonsense about soulmates and connected feelings, rambling about how if you think about someone a lot it’s probably a mutual thing.

“Whatever,” he throws it off to the side.

He had no idea who he was without any of the comfort he had associated with his new home with the Air Nation, without Jinora.

The time and space within the last year did a fine job of helping him understand exactly what she meant to him.

Before she came along he barely had anything. A name, yes, but that was it. Harmonic convergence gave his life a purpose, but she gave it meaning -- something to fight for. And now the line between those three things is blurred and he’s not so sure anymore what he’s fighting for.

Kai misses home. Not the place he was born, or the foster home that had tried to adopt him as a kid, but the island: every nook and cranny he had spent years exploring with his best friend. He misses the simplicity of the time, when they had more time together waiting for Korra’s return. He misses the way Tenzin would send a warning glare in his direction every time it looked like he was getting a little too friendly with his daughter.

A small part of him misses the past; the only thing he seemed to take with it anymore was the airbending. Which really, was a blessing! But if he cares to admit it, he might miss the thrill of being a carefree thief. And after the incident, it’s clear that returning to that life is just not an option anymore. The idea isn’t even appealing, but nostalgia has a way of grabbing people ruthlessly by the throat and launching them into a time where they thought they were happier.

He misses the days when training was far easier and he was ahead; these days the spiritual training was so much harder than being able to finish the obstacle course in record time, and now he constantly thought he was falling behind. He misses Korra and Mako and Bolin and Master Tenzin and Opal.

He misses Jinora the most, and considers calling the island again and hoping she’ll pick up like last time.

One year was definitely enough time to be alone with his thoughts and deal with everything on his own. He wonders if she would welcome him back with open arms. The fact that this whole dilemma might have created a scar that would be hard to mend fueled the hesitation.

The young airbender sighs, resigning to meditation.

But it seems more difficult to concentrate today, despite the silence that surrounds him. His mind insists on drifting to Jinora, and he wonders briefly if Tenzin would hand the phone over to her if he asked nicely.

But what would he even say?

Before he can consider it any further, out of nowhere in the center of his room, Jinora’s spirit materializes and scares the absolute shit out of him.

“Jinora?” the way her name slips out of his mouth unintended has him wondering how long they really were apart.

“Hi.”

“What are you…” then he shifts gears, asking instead what he’s wanted to know forever. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the Southern Water Tribe, visiting my grandmother,” she answers easily, and it’s like they never broke up at all.

"How are you…” he hesitates, but asks honestly, “How did you find me?”

She looks flustered, though it’s hard to tell without the signature pink that adorns her cheeks whenever she blushes. “Did you not want me to?”

“No no! That’s not it. You just haven’t done this in a while." He chuckles nervously, but he's happy nonetheless. "Guess I just wasn't expecting it."

“I know. I guess I just felt really connected to you tonight.”

The sudden spike in his ego made this a lot easier. “Missed me that much, huh?”

She looks like she wants to punch him in the shoulder.

“You must have missed me just as much.”

“I did,” he says easily, reveling in the way she breaks eye contact, blushing, to recompose herself. “I mean, I do.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Look-”

“Listen,”

“Oh, sorry,” he sits up.

“No, it’s ok, you go first.”

Kai’s hand shoots up to the back of his neck instinctively, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat. He pauses and shifts directions.

“Are you...still mad at me?”

“What?” the look of genuine surprise catches them both off guard. “I was never angry, Kai. I thought you were.”

“Oh, right,” his face contorts at the memory. “No, Jin, I was just being stupid.”

"Is that why…" the question dies on her tongue, and he raises an eyebrow at her hesitation.

"Is that why what?"

She eyes him tentatively but it doesn't look like he wants to drop it. "Is that why you haven't come back to Air Temple Island? You thought I was angry?"

Embarrassment washes over the young nomad. Of course she thought about this while he was gone. And now he doesn't even have a good reason.

"I...yeah, a little." He confesses. And when she laughs, his face fills with indignation. "What's so funny?"

"Me, mad at you?" She says, as if stating it would make it easier for him to understand how ridiculous it sounds.

"I mean, yeah." Kai looks at her in all seriousness, and Jinora is reminded of how real their relationship was. How much he really saw her for who she was, flaws and all. "I can act like a real ass sometimes. As patient as you are, I know I messed up."

She grants him a look, as if he had just answered a question correctly. "I suppose.”

"What about you? Why did you only decide to contact me now?"

A faint blush adorned her cheeks, despite her figure being translucent. Jinora takes a deep breath. Kai waits patiently.

"When I was younger, I found an injured bird just outside my window. Mom and dad told me I was very generous to have spent a week or so nursing it back to health. When his wings healed, mom told me I had to let him go, because he was ready to see the world again on his own. As selfish as it seemed, I really wanted to keep him; named him and everything.

"Every time you left for an indefinite amount of time, I always wondered if I was just keeping you here with me, like I did with the bird. If you wanted freedom, I knew I couldn't really give that to you. So...I just let you go."

"Jinora…" she watches as he seems to be at a loss for words.

She lets him sit in his thoughts for a couple minutes, thankful that the silence was not at all uncomfortable.

When he speaks again, it's not as graceful as he planned. “I guess...I’ve had some time to think about it,” he fumbles, and decides to start from the beginning.

“When you saved me from the earth queen's prison back then, I started seeing you differently. You were like a light in my really fucked up life. And I love that...I love you. I still do."

He revels in the way she blushes at this confession, but ultimately finds himself too flustered to maintain eye contact too.

"But then I got really selfish, and I hurt you because of it." Kai looks down, frustrated with himself, but Jinora knows he still has more to say. So she moves closer and her spirit takes a seat beside him. "I know I can't just keep you all to myself. You're not just the light in my life, but to the world too."

She giggles, delighted at his little speech, "That was corny."

"Yeah, well," he scratches the back of head, half flustered, half proud, "I try."

"Kai," she brings his attention back to her, and remembers how much he loves the way his name sounded from her lips. "I'm sorry you felt that way. I got so caught up in work, I lost sight of other things that were just as important to me."

Kai watches her, enamoured by the way Jinora shyly bites her lip and pours out her heart to him.

"I’m sorry I left. I didn't think it sent that sort of message to you."

She laughs softly, and it illuminates the room. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Ugh, Jinora…" Kai runs both hands down his face, both embarrassed and relieved.

"I've had some time to talk to my grandmother. She told me that Great Uncle Sokka also had a long distance relationship.” The late Avatar’s descendant twirled her thumbs, suddenly looking bashful. “It's never easy."

"It just takes a little work, I guess…I mean," Kai winces at the way he just started speaking without thinking this time.

But there was no turning back now. She waits patiently, but anxiously for his next words. This was it, now or never.

"If you're willing…"

Jinora's eyes widen and her heart skips a beat at the implication written all over his face.

"Of course I am."

And just like before, like nothing had changed, he watches her smile and almost wants to scold himself for how ridiculous and pining he must look wanting to reach out and smother her spirit with affection.

“I hate that I can’t kiss you right now,” he blurts, and Jinora laughs.

“Come home then,” she says, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

Jinora does welcome him back with open arms, to answer his question. With her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her entire being so eager to have him back. She smells sweet and familiar and suddenly Kai feels stupid for ever thinking letting this go was the right choice.

He holds her just as tightly, as if to let her know this was real, that he was real. And he feels a thousand pounds lighter when he tells her quietly, lovingly, “I’m home.”

She smiles against his neck, and he doesn’t need to see it to know.

“Welcome home.”

#the legend or korra #legend of korra #lok #tlok #kai #jinora #kainora #kai x jinora #jinora x kai #korra fanfiction #kainora fanfiction #i never know what else to tag my stuff

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

The Colour of Our Voices [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

Every relationship has its own set of difficulties, its ups and downs. It’s just painful that you can’t be together when you want to. You never knew there’d come a point where your goals, dreams, and ambitions would contend with your relationship. It seems like it’s either one or the other and you don’t know if you can pick — if he would choose what you would. You hope that with time, it’ll pass. You try not to show how hurt you are over the missed date night incident even though it makes you overwhelmingly sad. But you can laugh at it a little when you’re faced with a different kind of reaction instead of sadness — rage. “He fucking forgot?!” Yeonjeon is hysterical and her disgust is practically tangible. “Oh my god. I’m going to kill him.” She gets up, but you pull her arm down with a laugh. Jimin’s at work. She probably wouldn’t know where to look for him even if she tried. “Hey, don’t kill him, I still love him.” “Yeah, and it’s a mistake,” the actress says right out and rolls her eyes. “God, I can’t believe I had a crush on that motherfucker. All men are pigs, aren’t they? What an asshole!” “It was an accident.” You shrug. “Uh-huh. Pathetic is what it is.” “He’s been really tired lately.” “Umm, don’t defend him in my house.” She’s personally offended and is still fuming. “He can’t even remember a date. Does he have one brain cell?” “No. He has at least two,” you giggle. Yeonjeon shakes her head, but softens. Suddenly, she puts her hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Listen, Y/N. Just dump Jimin.” Immediately, you burst out laughing. “I love him too much to dump him.” “Well, fame changes people,” she states coldly. “He probably thinks he’s some kind of big shot now because he’s has some stupid role in a movie.” You smile at her sheepishly. It doesn’t seem like fame changed him. More like fame changed his life. It changed yours too — if you could even call it fame. “Anyways, enough about that jerk—” “Yeonjeon,” you warn her with a pout. He’s your boyfriend after all so you’ll defend him till the end. “—how’s your own projects going so far?” “They’re going fine. Rapunzel doesn’t have that many lines and she doesn’t actually sing any lyrics, but in the scenes that she is in, they’re pretty important. I’m having fun. Plus the people there are really nice to work with too.” “You know what?” She snaps her fingers. “Now that I think about it. Rapunzel fits you perfectly.” You laugh at her and she eyes you. “What? It just does.” Someone else had told you that — a boy that you miss dearly.

Jimin’s been having a recurring nightmare recently — one where he’s a four year old again and he’s stacking blocks as high as he can. It doesn’t sound so bad, but always when he has the last block in his hand and goes to top off the tower, he can see it teeter. He knows what’s about to happen, He can see it right in front of him. But no matter what he does, how carefully he deals with the blocks, he can’t stop it from tumbling down. The worst part is knowing the inevitable, but being unable to stop it. To see the collapse before it happens. “Going home already, Park?” The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls, eyes flickering down to how Jimin’s gathering his belongings. His bag and coat are slung over his arms as if he’s being chased by debt collectors and needs to run out as soon as possible. “Why so soon?” Chanyeol throws his arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him in. “I thought we were gonna go out for drinks again tonight.” “I’m good.” Jimin slyly and discreetly moves the actor’s arm off of him. “I think I’m gonna head home early. I’m pretty tired.” “Oh come on. Don’t be a downer. We even have our day off tomorrow. We should celebrate, don’t you think?” Chanyeol grins and looks across the set. “Hey, Director! You want to come with us again?” Yoongi, the camera director looks up from what he’s doing and shrugs. “Sure.” “See? Even Min’s coming. What are you waiting for?” It’s not rare to drink with the other cast members after a long day of filming. Usually outings can range from three to four people to every person on the set. They’re a good bunch but he wishes there weren't so many eyes on him right now. “What else would you be doing at home?” “He’s whipped for some girl at home, that’s why,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “Let him go if he really doesn’t want to come.” “That so?” Chanyeol raises his brows. “You can invite her.” “No, she works fairly early. She’s probably asleep right now.” “Then what are you going home for? Come on,” he insists, and Jimin succumbs to the pressure. // They’re huddled in a private room at the back of the fancy nightclub. It’s exclusive, sofas softer than expected, the back light of the walls creating a sensual ambiance and everything he drinks feels expensive. Jimin guesses this is what fame and fortune buys you. One of the girls working at the nightclub comes over with a tray of drinks, gorgeous with her dress that’s too small and too short, and her cleavage practically spilling out. Chanyeol whistles, tipping her with a pretty bill which she smiles to, and the actor notices the way Jimin diverts his eyes. “This girl of yours must be one hell of a woman,” he comments out of the blue and has Jimin’s eyes widening. “Me?” “Yeah, you, Park. Who else would I be talking about?” The handsome actor laughs boisterously, perhaps having taken one too many drinks. “Apparently they’re neighbours,” Jungkook pipes up, remembering the story Jimin told a few weeks ago. “Oof, brutal.” Chanyeol shakes his head. “If you guys break up, you’re gonna have to definitely move.” “We’re not going to break up,” Jimin instinctively states. It’s almost defensive in a way and he hopes they don’t notice the nervous tick in his fingers. There’s an exchange of expressions around the table. “You’re going to get married to her then?” “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” “Ooh, he is whipped,” Chanyeol sing-songs, but it also sounds sharp. Jungkook frowns. “You really want to tie yourself down so soon? I mean, it’s not a bad thing.” “It is a bad thing,” the other actor corrects, “Jimin’s young and good looking. You shouldn’t tie yourself down so early. You haven’t even begun to experience what kind of girls are out there….” Jimin doesn’t say anything. He takes the shot that’s in front of him. It’s bitter in his mouth, disgusting, but he ignores the actual taste to chase after the free feeling it gives him instead. “You’re cute — girls like that sort of thing. Trust me, you’ll be missing out if you tie yourself down now, Park. You have the rest of your life to be serious,” Chanyeol continues before his eyes flicker to the person across from him. “Right, Min?” Yoongi sighs and Chanyeol laughs, explaining, “He’s divorced. His ex-wife’s some critic who runs her own blog. They had to reach a huge settlement and it took two years in court, but get this, she didn’t change her last name back. She kept Min just to fuck with him.” “That’s enough,” Yoongi pipes up, cat-like eyes narrowed in on his drink. He throws it back and exhales afterwards. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The actor smiles, gripping his glass. “I got married to my high school sweetheart, and it’s an absolute nightmare.” Chanyeol grins and shakes his head, lighthearted in the way he talks and it makes Jimin’s own mouth quirk. “She’s bat shit insane.” Jungkook grins. “Didn’t she key your car?” “Broke my windshield too with a fucking brick.” Jimin blinks hard, unable to believe it. “Christ.” “They’re not crazy at the start, trust me. Everything’s always nice at the beginning — everyone’s in love, doesn’t matter that they like to call up their ex, that they want to forgo condoms and skip their birth control….” Jungkook snickers at Chanyeol’s woes and even Yoongi is amused. “I was an idiot, to say the least,” he sighs. “Not that I didn’t have my own problems, but I rushed into it way too quickly. What can you do, right? It would be bearable if not for the nagging.” “This is why I don’t do relationships,” Jungkook comments with his lips tightly drawn in a line. “Smart man.” He lifts his glass and they clink their drinks together. Jimin’s persuaded to take another shot. “Don’t you ever feel held down by her?” Chanyeol asks, smacking his lips. “Doesn’t she nag or anything?” “I wouldn’t say that….” Jimin considers it and his intoxication makes the words slip out recklessly. “She asks where I’m going. She texts me to ask when I’m coming home. She complains when I’m out late...sometimes.” The brunette shrugs. “She just worries about me.” “Sounds like a burden to me,” Chanyeol remarks. Suddenly Yoongi’s silence is broken. His eyes perceive more than they let on. “Does she ever make you feel bad for doing what you want?” “That’s a good point.” Jungkook nods and leans over to look at the brunette, propping his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. “You shouldn’t feel bad about doing what you want.” Jimin remains quiet. He drinks. It’s silent for a while, unsettlingly so and as each person waits for him to answer, Jimin never speaks. He never lifts his eyes away from the table. Chanyeol ends up clearing his throat. “What’s with this somber mood? Let’s change the subject! Come on, I’m getting too sober to be around you ugly motherfuckers. Shots, people!” They clink glasses together, laughing and moving on from the heavy topic of conversation. But they’re unknowing to just how it resonates with Jimin more than it should. He wants to be here — but you make him feel like he should be at home instead. He wants to perform, on screen or on Broadway — but you make him feel bad for being so busy. He loves you, but he feels guilty for your conflicting schedules, for not seeing you enough, even though this is all he’s been dreaming of, this is what he wanted… Jimin drinks and swallows past the thick lump forming in his throat. // The slamming door shakes you from your slumber. You turn around in your sheets, listening to the oncoming stomping footsteps, an irregular pattern instead of a consistent beat as if someone’s stumbling. The bedroom door creaks open and then Jimin dives into the sheets. He opens his arms and falls to his front, his arm hitting your shoulder. “What are you doing?” You rub your eyes and with a sigh, you sit up. You reach over to flicker the bedside lamp on. “Did you drink?” You can smell the alcohol radiating off of him, and it’s stronger than ever before. It’s surprising considering he’s usually a responsible drinker who always knows how to pace himself. One side of Jimin’s face is squished into the sheets, the other facing you. One of his eyes open. The pair of you stare at each other. “I love you.” The words slur and he exhales. “But goddamn ‘s hard sometimes.” You sigh again, getting up to take off his shoes as he lays there. You peel off his socks too, throwing them onto the ground for him to deal with it himself in the morning. “You didn’t even take off your jacket.” At least it’s his day off tomorrow, so he can get plenty of rest and recover — it doesn’t look like he’ll have a pleasant time in the morning. Unfortunately, the case is not the same for you. You have to wake up in three hours, so you’re not impressed to say the least. You climb over top of him, taking off his coat. Jimin’s arms are limp like noodles and he turns his head to stare straight at you. “‘Hy do you make me feel bad…’bout doing what I want, huh?” “What are you talking about, Jimin?” You go to unbutton his stained dress shirt reeking of spilled alcohol, but he abruptly shoves his hands off of him. “‘Could get so many girls….” “You could get so many girls?” Your eyebrow cocks. “Do you want to get girls?” “Dunno.” “Alright, Casanova.” You smile. “Let’s get you changed and to bed, ‘kay?” As you’re unbuttoning his shirt, peaceful silence settles around. Jimin savours the warmth of your hands on his skin, gazing at how your eyes are concentrated but still sleepy, how messy your hair is from twisting in the bed sheets and turning against the pillow. Your edges are soft in the yellow, dim light of the lamp. You’re practically glowing. “’re gonna break up, aren’t we?” The reaction is immediate. Your hands halt. Your lips fall. Your blood runs cold. “What?” “We’re gonna break up,” Jimin says it like he’s announcing it, like he’s decided himself. Your bottom lips tremble, hands quivering, and you quickly get off of him to collect yourself. You want to brush it off that he’s intoxicated, that doesn’t know what he’s saying. But drunk words are sober thoughts. “What are you saying?” “Do you know who I am?” His tongue slurs heavily, syllables melted together, and the man sits up slowly, swaying from side to side. “Who are you?” Your voice cracks against your will, eyes glossy and looking into his. “Cute — ‘Andsome — young — Park J-Jimin…..” He giggles with a finger in the air and he points at you. “‘M missing out by being with you, did ya know that? ‘Nd why do you make me feel guilty for doing what I want, huh? I wanna to go out and party and drink and meet girls and perform, but I gotta go home to you….sucks, man.” “It sucks, huh?” You swallow hard, fist curling tight into the sheets. “So you want to break up with me?” “’Ts gonna end anyways. Look at us.” Jimin falls onto his back again, cozying up in the sheets. “Don’t even see each other anymore.” “So this is it?” You ask again and again, not knowing where this is coming from, unable to believe that it’s happening. “Where else it gonna go?” You’re silent. You remove yourself from him, bringing your shaking hands into your lap. He lays there like a dead body, but he doesn’t fall asleep just yet despite the temptation being so strong. “What happened to the Jimin I first met?” you ask quietly, a mere whisper leaving your parted lips. You don’t know who this arrogant asshole is — a stranger has entered your home. “’S not here no more,” he mumbles, “Fame changed me. ’M not some sad dude pinning after you anymore.” “Go to bed, Jimin,” you spit out the command harsher than you thought was possible. It goes silent and you watch him sprawl in your bed, limbs spread freely and his chest rising and falling as he snores. You reach over to turn off the lamp and grab your pillow, shoving his head off of it. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and try to sleep out on the couch for the remaining hours. But it’s hard when you’re so restless. // The sunlight pierces through the window and into his eyes. He groans, shaken awake and brought to consciousness and to his head throbbing. His head aches and he feels sickly, the world swirling around him. Jimin gets up and stumbles to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. He tries to wash his face afterwards and brush his teeth. When he leaves, he holds onto the door frame to brace himself and he hears noisy clanging in the kitchen that makes him wince. He staggers out, shocked to see you. “What are you doing here?” Jimin’s voice cracks and he moves to get water to quench his painful thirst. Your back stays turned to him. “It’s one in the afternoon,” you state rather coldly, mumbling from the corner of your mouth. “I asked to come home early. I remembered I’m allowed to do that.” He raises a brow and finishes drinking an entire bottle. “Are you still mad at me for forgetting our date night?” It goes quiet. You don’t spare him a glance, simply putting the dishes away. The loud clanging has him flinching. “I already said I’m sorry,” he reasons, “I got you flowers!” You don’t know what he’s talking about and you don’t care to learn. “Y/N.” You came home to talk to him but now that he’s here, you know that you’ll regret what wants to come out. “Y/N.” “Y/N,” Jimin repeats for the third time. He approaches and secures his hands on your shoulders, forcibly turning you around to face him. “Are you ignoring me?” “Don’t touch me.” You shove his hands off of you, stepping back. His eyes frantically search your hurt expression and he’s utterly confused. “Please. Just don’t.” “W-What’s wrong?” “You don’t remember anything about last night?” you ask him, loudly, enough to strain your own voice. Jimin winces again. “Can you not shout at me? I have a headache.” “You said….you wanted to break up with me,” you whisper, unable to believe it yourself. When you say it with your own mouth, it stings and you want to burst out crying. Jimin watches the way your expression crumples and he pales. It slowly comes back to him in waves, vague but he begins to remember bits and pieces, enough to know what he’s done. “Hey.” Jimin reaches out, stepping closer. But he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry.” “You always are.” Maybe it shouldn’t be a big deal. He was drunk, inebriated, not in full control of his words — but to know he was even thinking about it, to know that he’s lined up the reasons for his dissatisfaction with your relationship, to hear it be said aloud, hurts. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He searches the floor and musters the courage to lift his eyes. “You don’t believe me?” “It’s not that I don’t believe you aren’t sorry,” you murmur, “I just think you’re sorry that I know what you think now.” “Oh come on, babe. Y/N.” Jimin follows you to the living room. “I didn’t mean it.” “Really?” You stop on your heel. You hate this — hate being upset and angry, hate feeling at a loss, hate spiraling out of control. “Not the part where you think I’m basically a huge burden to you now? Not the part where you want to get girls and go to parties and how I make you feel bad about doing the things you want? Not the part where you’re no longer pathetic enough to love me? Or what was it that you said, oh yeah, you’re not some sad guy pinning after me anymore.” “I was drunk.” “Were you? Or were they your sober thoughts?” He sighs in frustration. Your loud voice is worsening his headache. And this isn’t what he wanted to do first thing he woke up — he doesn’t want to argue with you. But he doesn’t know how to make it stop. “I think that it’s unfair you’re using this against me when I was wasted.” “You told me that we should break up because we don’t even see each other anymore. Because what else was supposed to happen to us,” you softly whisper, crossing your arms, holding yourself. Now that he can answer clearly, now he’s not drunk anymore, there are no excuses. “So what is that you want from us, Jimin? Do I really make you feel guilty for doing the things you want to do? Is that how you feel about me now?” “No, that’s not it. I’m...I’m sorry.” “You’re selfish,” you say, spitefully. “That’s what you are. Always have been.” Jimin scoffs outright. “Selfish?” “All you think about is yourself. What you want. What you don’t have. What you’re missing out on. You’re supposed to think about the other person in a relationship. We’re supposed to sacrifice, compromise — and you’re not willing to do that. You don’t think about me for a second, Jimin.” “Are you kidding me? I am trying my best! Everything I do is for us and our future together—” “Really? I thought we didn’t have a future in your plans.” He ignores your low jab. “I took care of you when you hated me. How’s that sacrifice for you?” “Well nobody asked! Did they?” “I love you!” Jimin shouts at the top of his lungs, making his throat dry again. “I’ve loved you longer than you loved me. Even when you were jealous of me, when you hated me, I loved you. And I still love you!” “Then why did you tell me that I make you feel bad for doing what you want?!” you’re sobbing as the last word comes out, holding your face in your hands. Guilt swallows him whole. “Because it does. I feel bad that I don’t get enough to spend enough time with you. I feel bad that we’re always waiting for the other person to come home. I feel bad about going out with the cast when I should be having fun and for taking on roles when I know it’ll be time consuming even though that’s been my dream.” You’re sobbing, shaking your head. “W-What do you want me to do?” “I don’t know.” He can’t find a solution, and he’s most certainly not going to make you give up your dream. Jimin’s not going to ask or make you do anything. Everything caused by ill timing. Caused by stress. What’s the point of being in a relationship when you can’t even see each other? It always seems like you have to choose each other or choose your ambitions. Jimin wants to say boldly that he’ll figure it out with you — that he’ll find a way to do both. He wants to hug you, to embrace you, let you cry into his shoulder as he makes more meaningless apologies. He wants to say that with time, it’ll pass, that your schedules will clear up, that the pair of you will overcome this obstacle. But he can’t bring himself to say it or to step forward. “Maybe we should take a break.” You’re taken aback. A break? So he can do whatever he wants and thinks he can still have you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I don’t know,” Jimin admits. “I think we just need some time away from each other to figure this out.” Without the obligation of having to see you, of having to maintain this relationship, the guilt would disappear. Maybe neither of you would have to feel so bad about yourselves. But you persist in your questions. “Figure what out? Us?” Jimin’s frustrated at why you don’t understand. “Well if you don’t like it, then maybe we should just cleanly break it off with one another. If that makes more sense to you.” “Fine,” you hiss out of unadulterated spite. His eyes widening, mouth dropping open. He’s shocked at your quick answer. Jimin’s rendered speechless, breathless. “F-Fine then…” “Get out of my apartment, Jimin.” You sniffle with your chest heaving. He can’t believe it’s happening. Everything in his mind screams for him to stop, but his body moves on its own. Then the door slams shut.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts jimin fanfic #bts jimin fluff #bts jimin #jimin reader insert #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic

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ghost-ghost-baby · 5 years

Text

Scales final

The backstory???? Is finally done,,,,; now I can just do random aus Nd scenarios bless,,,,,maybe nsfw in future

sorry for any mistakes it is,,,, 1 am nd im tired,,,,,

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / ko-fi / patreon / masterlist /

“The others will start marching towards here, Shigaraki will be in here with you while his army gets ready to defend. I’ll come in and help you subdue him, and then we need to go to your old cabin Y/n, will you be able to get us there?”

“Of course.” Your tone was cold, you still didn’t trust Dabi, you were doing this purely for Denki. The blonde was nuzzled into your side, doing his best to keep his eyes open, you’d been at this for hours, and the collar kept his energy from fully restoring.

“Is that it?” You wanted this over with, it was a straightforward plan, it wasn’t hard to follow.

“Pretty much, Bakugo or someone will meet us at the cabin, and we’ll go from there.” Dabi shrugged, finally standing up to leave and you could have jumped from joy. The door opened before Dabi reached it and you cursed, you just wanted to be alone with Denki to make sure he was okay, that was impossible with Shigaraki there.

“You can go now.” Shigarakis tone was angry, and a weight settled on your chest, this was going to be… a lot.

“I can’t get one minute of rest without those pathetic worms doing something.” Shigaraki had all but collapsed on the bed, ignoring Denki as he wrapped his arms around you, face buried in your hair while he tried to calm down. Was it time? Dabi hadn’t told you when you’d be doing this whole… escape plan.

“They’ve all banded together and started marching towards here, but don’t worry pet, my armies will crush them.” His hand roughly stroked over your hair and you had to fight back a shiver, where was Dabi? Denki had dozed off next to you, the collar and events of the day finally too much for him.

“I’m sure, my king.” You choked out the words to keep him happy, you couldn’t afford to screw up now. A scream stuck in your throat when Shigaraki grabbed your face, nails digging in as his eyes scanned over your form. You did your best to keep your face neutral, but tears still welled in your eyes as you wondered what he’d do this time.

“They’re not going to take you from me again, I don’t care who I have to kill, you’re mine.”

Shigaraki had fallen asleep not long after that, head on your lap and lanky arms somehow going over you and Denki. The door creaked open, finally, and Dabi entered with a few bags he quickly placed on the floor. He placed his finger to his lips, showing you the antimagic cuffs he had as he started walking towards the bed. You continued stroking Shigaraki’s hair, gently moving him off of your lap so his arms would be easy to bind. Shigaraki stirred at the movement, but as you kept playing with his hair he settled back down into a peaceful sleep. Dabi somehow got the cuffs on without waking Shigaraki, a miracle that had you thanking every god you knew of, but that was the easiest part.

“Hey, Denki, can you wake up for me sweetie?” You cooed, pressing kisses to Denki’s face until his eyes started to open.

‘There’s my guy, are you ready to go? Dabi’s got all the bags ready.” It took the blonde longer than usual to wake up, and he was still groggy as he nodded and started to get off the bed. At least he could still walk, but you’d need to get that awful collar off as soon as you got back to your cabin.

“What are we gonna do about him?” You turned to Dabi, who was still standing over the king.

“Gag him if we have to to keep him quiet, when the collar is off of Denki we should put it on him, I have the controller.”

“You know what he’s like, as soon as he wakes up he’ll be yelling his head off, gag him now.” You knew the vile things Shigaraki could say, it would be better like this.

Dabi only nodded, grabbing a gag he had for god knows what reason, somehow managing to secure it on Shigaraki before he woke up. You grabbed the bags as Dabi hoisted Shigaraki over his shoulder, the movement finally waking the king. Red eyes zoned in on you opening the door and Shigaraki was already trying to curse through the gag by the time you’d shut it behind you all.

“Okay,” You grabbed Denki’s hand, shooting a look at Dabi before you turned to the looming hallway. “Follow me, stay close, be quiet.”

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” You were going to punch that smug look of of Dabi’s face, he’d been doing this since you entered the forest.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You hissed, your grip on Denki’s hand tightening as you imagined just choking Dabi. You knew exactly where you were going, but to anyone else it would just look like you were heading deeper and deeper into the unknown. Shigaraki has given up his screaming, opting to just glare at you whenever you came into his line of sight, which you avoided as much as you could. Denki was half asleep, shuffling along like a zombie and only strengthening your resolve to get that collar off. The trees finally cleared, revealing a clearing lined with blackberry bushes, and a smal waterfall surrounded by jagged rocks.

“We’re here!” You couldn’t help the relief that swept over you, now you just had to get them inside.

“What?” Dabi didn’t look impressed, eyebrows raised as he scrutinised the clearing.

“It’s through the water, idiot.” You were so, so ready to be rid of him. Now you just needed to get inside and get the collar off of Denki.

“Okay, you can put Shigaraki on the bed.” You started preparing as soon as you all entered the cabin, guiding Denki to the couch you had. The blonde slumped onto it without a second thought, eyes closing and his breathing evening out within minutes. Good. He’d freak if he knew what you had to do to get that stupid collar off. Dabi dumped Shigaraki on the bed, sitting next to him shortly after and turning his gaze to you. You were rummaging through your cabinets, looking for the box of gems you had somewhere, you couldn’t get the collar off without it.

“Fucking finally.” You pushed aside the fake bottom of a draw, revealing the familiar blue box that you quickly pulled out and placed on the table. It clicked open after a few mumbled words on your part, and your fingers began shifting through its contents. Sapphire, ruby, emerald, where the fuck was a diamond? Nothing else would work for this. You managed to find it after another minute, it was small, about the size of your thumbnail, but it was sharp and considering what you had to do, smaller was probably better. Thank god Denki was fast asleep.

Okay, here goes nothing. You shifted your shirt so the skin of the top of your chest was visable, taking a deep breath as you pressed the diamond to your skin. The key was doing this quickly and efficiently, not giving yourself time to second guess. A hiss left you as the stone first pressed into your skin, deeper and deeper until blood started gushing from the wound, covering the diamond and your hand. You held it there, ignoring the looks from Dabi and Shigaraki, what did they expect? You only pulled it away when it got hot, the diamond now glowing the same red as your blood. Perfect. You pulled your shirt back up, thanking the gods it was thick, before you went over to Denki. He was still fast asleep, and you rolled him onto his stomach so you could see the locks on the back of the collar. You pressed the gem against the lock, closing your eyes and focusing all your intent on getting it off. You didn’t stop until you heard a faint click, eyes springing open to see the collar unlock and fall off. You caught it just in time, gingerly carrying it over to Dabi, who made short work of it and somehow managed to fasten it around Shigaraki’s neck. You didn’t even want to know what was going on between them, Dabi looked far too satisfied.

About twenty minutes of silence passed before you felt something, a warmth bubbled up in your chest and the scales on your hand seemed to glow. A trumpeting noise followed by a thud had Denki shooting up, grinning ear to ear as he grabbed your hand.

“Kiri And Katsuki are here!” He tugged you up, ignoring Dabi and Shigaraki as he pulled you outside. The two of you had barely stepped outside before Eijiro was wrapping his arms around both of you and smothering your face in kisses.

“Oh my gods I’m so sorry, are you two okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“Of course Kiri, Y/n got us through it!” Denki was happier than you’d seen him all week, and you finally let yourself relax. You did it.

“Thank god you had each other.” Kiri gave you both one last kiss before he pulled back, surveying the two of you for any injuries and thank god your shirt was black and nothing showed up. They didn’t need to fuss over you, you’d get help later. You all just needed to get out of here.

“Can-can we go, Kiri? Please?” You were so, so tired, you just wanted to sleep.

“Are you ready? You don’t need to prepare anything?” You shook your head in response to his question, you really didn’t care what Dabi did with Shigaraki, it wasn’t your problem anymore.

“If you’re sure, Mina made us a teleportation stone, it should activate when we all place two hands on it.” Kiri went into his bag, producing a large grey rock that was warm to the touch. Too tired to question it, you placed your hands on it, only having a moment to appreciate how smooth it was before the spell jumped into effect.

“Oof.” You landed on your ass, blinking as your surroundings came into focus and a blur of pink smashed into you. Pain flashed across your chest and you had to bite back a gasp, although you couldn’t stop your body from tensing up.

“What was that?” Mina pulled back to look at you, and as you glanced at your surroundings you saw the others there, Denki and Kirishima were huddled with Hanta, and Katsuki was standing behind Mina. They were all looking at you with varying degrees of concern, except Katsuki, who just kinda looked pissed. Good to know he hadn’t changed.

“It’s nothing, don’t wor-”

“Bullshit it’s nothing. What aren’t you telling us?” Katsuki pushed Mina aside, and you winced as your eyes landed on the blood staining her front. Maybe nobody would notice? Even as that thought bloomed you saw Mina looking down, lips turning into a thin line as she processed what was happening. Guess your time was up.

“I needed a blood diamond to get the collar off of Denki. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.” You waved their concerns off, completely ignoring how light headed you felt. It had been a long day was all.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kirishima’s tone was hurt and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, instead fixing your eyes on Katsuki, who was kneeling in front of you.

“I just… wanted to get back.” You shrugged, gritting your teeth as you felt Katsuki adjust your shirt so the wound was on display. It was still bleeding sluggishly, much to your surprise, you thought it would have scabbed over by now. “I’m sorry, I’m just… really tired.” You barely flinched as Katsuki pressed something to your chest, hand coming up to cover your yawn made you miss the worried looks everyone exchanged.

“You can rest on me.” Mina shuffled behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and gently pulling you back to lean against her.

“Thank you.” You barely got the words out before your eyes were closing, darkness finally claiming your mind.

“Guys, guys, they’re waking up.” Hanta’s voice made you stir, rubbing your eyes before you cracked them open. The room was dimly lit, but you could still make out everyone worriedly peering at you.

“Hey, how long was I out?” You croaked, happily accepting the glass of water Mina pressed into your hands.

“A week.” Katsukis eyes burned into you and you frowned, you didn’t think it was that bad.

“I’m sorry.” The guilt crashed down on you like a wave, all you did was burden them, why did they even bother saving you? The first time or now.

“Hey, none of that.” The blonde sensed your mood drop immediately, lightly slapping your cheek to bring you back to reality. “It’s the past now, no use dwelling on it.”

“Besides, we’ve got so much to fill you in on!” Denki ruffled your hair, and you couldn’t stop a smile making its way onto your face. You shot a questioning look at Eijiro, he was the only one that hasn’t spoken yet. Was he mad at you? Maybe he was regretting bringing you back in the first place-

“I was so scared!” The redhead tackled you a second later, strong arms securly wrapping around your form while he buried his face in your neck.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You soothed, one arm wrapping around his shoulders while you used your other to card through his hair, trying to ignore the wetness from his tears.

“Kir-riiii, tell them the good news!” Denki whined, reaching over to give Eijiro a light shove. When a minute passed without him surfacing, Denki let out a sigh, turning back to Hanta with an expectant look.

“We’re the new rulers of Shigaraki’s old kingdom!’ Hanta grinned, his arm casually slung over Mina’s shoulders. Your eyes lit up as you processed what was happening. You’d get to be home! You’d be able to do whatever you wanted.

“Oh my gods, thank you! Thank you so much!” You reached out around Eijiro, tugging an unexpecting Katsuki into a hug, who protested and grumbled even as he wrapped his arms around the two of you, the others quickly following suit.

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