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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

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Wide Open Spaces

Travis takes you on the annual Kelce family camping trip, your first opportunity to make a good impression with his family, or so you think

Dedicated to @princessmermaid1289 for their birthday!

"I don't think you're putting it together right, Travis." You flipped the white instruction pamphlet around in your hands, squinting your eyes at the diagrams on the page.

"Let me see this." Travis stepped out of the nylon tent, dragging it along the ground with him as he stood up. You passed him the paper, giggling to yourself as you watched the gears turn in his head to no avail. He let out a frustrated huff, throwing the posts down on the ground.

"Travis was never good at the whole reading instructions thing." Jason walked into the campground, placing his and Kylie's bags with the rest of the provisions. "Come to think about it, he's never been good with reading either." Travis flipped Jason the middle finger, earning a hearty chuckle from his older brother. Kylie filed in behind her husband, struggling to hold the cooler in her arms.

"Here, let me help you, Kylie." You shuffled over to grab one end of the plastic container, helping her place it atop the picnic table.

"How is she holding up?" Jason asked Travis just above a whisper, once you were out of earshot. Travis removed his baseball cap, wiping the sweat from his brow. "So far so good."

It started a couple of years ago. Things were going really good for Travis in pretty much every area of his life except dating. He was at the top of his game in football, and his popularity garnered him many a endorsement and brand collaboration. It also meant that women flocked to him in a way they had never before, and he wasn't sure who he could trust, and who was in it for the potential money and fame that came with dating him.

Jason suggested a test, a way to see if the girl was really interested in Travis for who he was and not what he could provide for them. They each were invited on the camping trip for the weekend, and Travis and Jason would put up bets to see how long they could last.

At first it was just some silly competition between brothers, but they quickly realized that it was a solid way to see who was in it for the long haul.

Travis was really hoping you passed the test this weekend. He was head over heels in love with you, and he really saw a future together.

****

You finally got the tent up just as the sun started to set, a cool breeze moving through the campsite. You slipped on one of Travis' hoodies before heading over to the picnic table to help Kylie with dinner prep. Travis and Jason already had a couple of beers in them, the cans collecting by the fire pit as they traded some funny childhood stories.

"Y/N, did Travis ever tell you how he wet the bed until he was 12 years old?" Jason hiccuped as he downed the last sip of his IPA, crushing the can in his hand. You could make out Travis's blush of embarrassment through the haze of dusk. "Oh my god, I stopped when I was like nine!" You let out a belly laugh as you cut up a few carrots. "You say that like its so much better." Jason continued to joke at his brother's expense.

"Why don't the two of you go get us some more firewood?", Kylie suggested, earning a loud groan from the two men. "Let's go man. I gotta take a piss anyway." Travis walked into the woods, Jason stumbling behind him.

****

Kylie looked up at you from her spot, giving you a gentle smile. The two of you had gotten really close over the last couple of months, and you considered her a friend. "Are you having a good time?" You nodded as you rubbed your arms, trying to warm yourself. "I am. I used to go camping all the time with my dad growing up, it was our own little tradition like what Travis and Jason have."

"I'm sure they didn't account for that." Kylie scrunches her eyebrows, letting out a quiet chuckle.

"Didn't account for what?", you asked.

She sighed, wiping her hands on her pant legs. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I really like you, and I think that you and Travis have something. This weekend is a test."

You shook your head, not completely understanding. "A test? What kind of test?"

"A test of your relationship", she continued, "see if you could handle roughing it. I had no idea at the time, but Jason put me through the same thing when we were dating." You felt your stomach drop, your throat drying up. You really cared about Travis, but you didn't think he needed you to prove it. Was he unsure about your relationship?

Kylie placed a hand over yours, offering you comfort. She could see the worry flash over your face. "I know its not what you were expecting, but I get why they do it. All the money and the fame comes with a lot of fake people. They really are good guys. I hope this doesn't make you hate Travis."

"Hate, no. But I am a little pissed." You admitted, letting out a humourless laugh. "I was expecting a relaxing weekend, and instead I find out my boyfriend is trying to test my character."

"If you're up for it. I think I have an idea of how we can give them a taste of their own medicine." You spent the next couple of minutes planning your revenge with Kylie.

****

The last embers from the fire were beginning to die down, exhaustion from the day starting to weigh on you.

"I think I'm going to head to bed." You yawned out, patting Travis on the shoulder as you passed him. "I think I'll join you."

"Actually, Kylie and I were thinking we'd share a tent, and you could bunk with your brother. Just for tonight, we realized we could use some girl time."

"Are you sure?" Travis grabbed your hand, stopping you before you reached the tent.

"Yes, good night." You gave him a quick peck on the lips before walking away.

Travis tossed around in his sleeping bag, groaning as he propped an arm behind his head. He had gotten maybe 10 minutes of sleep before Jason started snoring, a sound that rivaled a bear's growl. Shoving him in the side did nothing to stop the torment, only giving him a few seconds of silence before the snores started again.

The woods were silent aside from a rustling in the trees. Travis listened intently to the sounds around him, his eyelids slowly closing.

****

They shot open to a booming sound, as if something had fallen from the trees.

"Jason. Jason." Travis whispered aggressively, trying to wake his brother up. "What?" he finally groaned, scratching his stomach.

"Did we tie up the food? I think I hear a bear outside."

"Yeah, I made sure of it. There is no way a bear is gonna wander into our campsite. Go back to sleep", Jason remarked as he turned over.

The next sound was much louder, as if some branches had fallen.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason sat up, running his fingers through his hair.

"I thought it was NoThInG?" Travis mocked, sitting up as well. "My wife and your girlfriend are probably fighting for their lives right now in their tent, and you want to mock me?"

"I'm sure they're fine. Like you said, we tied up the food. It was probably just an owl or something." Travis searched for his phone as Jason got up. "I'm gonna go check on them." As he reached for the entrance zipper, the tent began to shake violently.

"I'm getting the fuck out of here!" The Kelce brothers hustled out of the tent, only to be met with a splash of water to the face. "Gotcha!" You billowed over in laughter, watching Travis try to catch his breath, his clothes drenched.

"What the hell was that for? We thought you were in trouble." Travis wrung out his t-shirt, "That wasn't funny, babe."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "No Travis, you know what's not funny? You inviting me here under the pretense that I was going to get to enjoy a weekend with you and your family, but really it was a test to see if I was a gold digger." You thought the whole situation didn't bother you, but as the words rolled off of your tongue, you realized you were truly hurt. Jason made eye contact with Kylie, mouthing 'what the hell' are her.

"She deserved to know, Jason. I really like her." Kylie shrugged her shoulders.

Travis took a step toward you. "Listen, baby, I can explain." You stopped him before he could lay a hand on you. "Just don't. I'm going back to bed, I'll see you all in the morning." You excused yourself from the group before Travis could get another word out.

****

You were wide awake for most of the night, running the last couple of months of your relationship with Travis through your mind, trying to pinpoint if there was ever a time when you had given the impression you wanted more from him than just him. Resolving that you weren't going to get any sleep, you got out of the tent, adjusting your eyes to the bright light of the morning. The campsite was empty, the sun barely visible over the horizon.

"Good morning", you jumped at the sound of Jason's voice, his hands full a tackle box and two fishing poles as he walked over to you. You stayed silent, kind of pissed at Travis' accomplice in all of this.

"Ah, the silent treatment. I know it well, Kylie gives it to me all the time." You let out a quiet chuckle at his joke, tight lipped otherwise. "There she is. I could use a partner for my fishing, makes the whole experience a lot less boring." Jason held up his tackle box, a proverbial white flag for his part in this weekend.

"Don't you think you should ask Travis?" Fishing really wasn't your forte, and you didn't think you'd be a good companion in your current mood.

"Uh, Travis, no. He's never been one for fishing. Besides, I think I owe you an apology for yesterday."

****

You sat on a rock while Jason set up your fishing pole for you, effortlessly flinging the line into the river before handing it to you. "I always said that if I wasn't in the NFL, I'd want to be one of those professional fishers. Just me, Winnie and Baloo on the water all day." Jason hummed as he casted his own line, leaning back on his forearms. You gave him a soft smile, pulling your arms into your sweater sleeves for warmth. You both sat in silence for a moment, listening to the water crash off the bank.

"My dad loves fishing, we used to spend pretty much every weekend either camping or fishing together. It was a big part of my childhood." You reeled your line in a bit when you thought you had bite, recasting when you realized you had just gotten caught on a branch.

"I had no idea." Jason adjusted his hat. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me." You let out a humorless laugh.

"You're right", he nodded, looking over at you. "And I owe you an apology. I really am sorry for misleading you this weekend. Travis has had his fair share of interesting girlfriends, and with everything that has happened in our career, I'm just very protective of him." Jason knew it probably didn't mean much coming from him, but he thought you at least deserved an explanation.

"I really do care about your brother, Travis. I'm not in it for the money or the fame." You swallowed, your eyes beginning to water. You let out a shaky breath, wiping your face with your sleeve.

"I know, I know. You two are really good together. I should have realized a long time ago that you were different. Hell, you're probably too good for my brother." You both chuckled. "Thank you, I accept your apology." Your moment was interrupted when you felt your fishing pole tug in your hands, your line starting to run away.

"Grab it, grab it." Jason instructed, guiding you as you reeled in your line. "Whatever it is, its gotta big huge if its giving you this much trouble!" You used all of your strength, handing it over to Jason when you lost your grip. As the last few meters of line came in, the giant catch was revealed: a tiny fathead minnow, probably weighed no more than a couple ounces.

"Ha!", you called out, allowing yourself to laugh and let the worry from earlier leave you. "You're welcome for breakfast this morning."

****

Travis' eyes lit up when he saw you walking back from the lake. He stood up, wringing his hands together in nervousness.

"We'll give you two some privacy." Jason and Kylie walked off to the car while you approached Travis. "Hi, did you sleep okay?" You could see the bags under his eyes; he probably got as much sleep as you did last night.

"Uh, no. I kept myself awake thinking of ways to apologize to you." You took his hand, your gaze falling as you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles. "Travis, there is no need to apologize. I know why you did what you did. You're not sure who you can trust now that you're Travis Kelce, best tight end in the league." You gave him a genuine smile.

"That's no excuse. You're not like any of the other girls I've dated."

"People keep saying that, but I don't know what that means." You climbed onto the top of the picnic table, Travis settling down next to you. "I just mean, I didn't have any doubts about you before we got here. You mean the world to me, baby."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that, Travis. I really care about you too." Your eyes dropped to his lips, Travis lifting your chin to meet his lips, your kiss soft and gentle.

"Good, the two of you have made up. Now we can all eat breakfast." Jason and Kylie returned with some bread, peanut butter and jelly for sandwiches.

"Wait, you guys didn't get any fish when you went out this morning?" Travis questioned, jumping off the table.

"Nothing was biting this morning, we'll try again tomorrow." Jason gave you a wink as he handed you a plate.

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elvisabutler · 10 months

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me at all of y'all in this little fandom of ours. just slapping the butt. that's it that's my anniversary post. xoxo see y'all next year. for real, enjoy my full post behind the cut.

okay all seriousness y'all, i didn't see the movie opening day, i would have but i have a toddler and all that jazz. what i did do is see it a bit after? maybe a week. and then right after july fourth i made this sideblog to post a fic that was supposed to be a fix it fic for the movie/elvis's life. i remember saying man i don't trust my brain to let me write fic because last time i did any creative writing ( it was rp but it counts, because that's how i'm good at dialogue ) was back in 2016. nothing could have prepared me for the whirlwind that's been this fandom and how it's ignited my creative drive and my brain to be quite honest. i've had some times when there's been a hiccup or two for me in here but for the most part, truly this is one of the best fandoms i've ever been in and it shows in just how much i've been able to write.

i've met some fantastic friends (shout out to my discord wives @butlersxbirdy, @ab4eva, and @precious-little-scoundrel and my in general bestest besties who i try and talk to every day who get their own nicknames that mama is too tired to write out @powerofelvis, @prompted-wordsmith, @blurredcolour, @eliseinmemphis, and @stylespresleyhearted and someone else who knows who she is.) never going to stop being so thankful to @floralcyanide for making the efc even if it died down the way it did. and to @missmaywemeetagain for pink scarf but being a great person to talk to and go HOW DARE U at and @thatbanditqueen for getting my distaste for transatlantic accents and to @be-my-ally for somehow being weirdly on the nose with your guesses/feelings on things. and i'd tag so many other people but i don't want to clog up everyone's notifs.

honesty this movie kind of changed my life. it's given me something to hold on to when things have gotten rough and it's joined the very few movies i hold dear that can instantly give me a pick me up. i've been reminded of how delightful elvis's music is and i've gotten to hear music from him i've never heard. it's- it's been a blessing and one i do really gotta thank everyone for.

just thank y'all and i hope we're all still around for year two or even if we splinter off even more i hope we at least come back together every year. our own little elvis week to add to his birthday week and graceland's elvis week.

#ally talks #elvis 2022 anniversary #elvis 2022

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 7 months

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"Why Wasn't I Enough?"

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 19 instead of 13. Technically set before RttE. Hiccup Left Berk AU + Trans!Hiccup AU. The Dragon Master helped Berk end the Dragon Scourge, now they’re free to celebrate Dreadfall and Hiccup is free to think about the past.

Warning: /

Rating: General

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Stormfly

Pairing: /

Words: 1 905

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Taken for granted, "Why wasn't I enough?"

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Posting Day 19 because Day 13, while also written, takes place after this one. So I'll be posting Day 13 on the 15th because Day 15 is the second chapter to 13, which I'll be posting on the 19th. Confused yet? :')

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

A celebration on Berk. Growing up, Hiccup can’t say he’s seen too many of them. With the threat of dragons looming over them and alliances between tribes shaky, there often didn’t seem any room for them. There was too little food, the weather was too harsh, the most recent raid left too much to rebuild, there were lives lost… and other such reasons. In short, there was no reason to celebrate anything.

Except maybe a birthday. Because someone surviving another year was always a good thing.

So to see the colorful decorations and lights now should leave Hiccup feeling warm. There are a lot of young children on Berk now, more than he's ever seen in his entire lifetime, it should be a joy to see them get to enjoy such festivities.

But… These thoughts can't seem to get him warm.

From the edge of the old kill ring, he watches the village. The glow of the lights and the sounds of music, singing, and laughter can be seen and heard from all the way up here. Hiccup sits with one leg dangling, the other a stump wrapped in bandages. Toothless lies half curled up around him. He watches the scenery as well.

The dragon warbles, wanting to know what they're celebrating.

"It's called Dreadfall, Bud," Hiccup says. "We're celebrating the harvest."

"We're," what a strange thing to say. He hasn't been on Berk since he left when he was 15. His 18th birthday is coming up. Though he wants to join so badly, he doesn't belong with them. He never did.

His stump is all bandaged up, his leg lost for them, but still he’s not one of them.

Though Toothless would like a more in-depth explanation on this harvest feast, he can tell the mood is a little melancholic and so decides to ask later. He puts his head in Hiccup's lap, giving him something to pet. That always seems to make him feel better.

It's silent then. After all this time together, few actual words need to be spoken between the two of them.

Wingbeats approach from above.

“There you are! I figured I would find the two of you here,” Astrid remarks as Stormfly lands nearby. She dismounts with ease and approaches, something held securely in her hands. The Nadder follows her and attempts to preen her. Hiccup is glad to see their bond- still so fresh- growing.

“You did, huh?” Hiccup asks, a welcome smile on his face.

“Well, not here specifically, but I didn’t even bother to drop by Gothi’s because I knew you wouldn’t be in bed,” Astrid takes one shoulder of his as she takes a seat on the ledge with him, Toothless moving his tail out of the way. It makes him glad to see her so comfortable around dragons nowadays.

“I think you know by now that I can’t sit still,” Hiccup responds and Toothless snorts. Oh, if only she knew how bad his rider is at sitting still.

“You can also not sit still in the village, you know? Where we’re in the middle of a party? You could have some actual food for once,” she tells him and hands him what she was holding. It’s been wrapped in cloth to keep it warm. Unwrapping it, he finds a small pie with custard filling.

“It’s a Berk special. I saw that the baker was making some and thought of you, I don’t think living amongst dragons means you can have a lot of pastries,” she explains.

“No, I usually just get fish thrown up in my lap if someone thinks I need extra food,” he states, to which she laughs. And yes, it’s funny now, but she has no idea how often it happens.

There’s a beat of silence as he simply listens to her laugh and enjoys having her near. There was once upon a time when he crushed on her. Hard. Are all of those feelings gone? He’s… not so sure.

“Do you think she’ll ever get to enjoy Dreadfall again?” Then a question comes that completely ruins the mood. At least for him. For him it’s a slap in the face, for her… Astrid is just nostalgic. Melancholic. Like he was minutes earlier.

“IIII… don’t know if she’s out there after all this time. I told you this before, Astrid. I promised that I would try to find her, not that I would,” Hiccup reminds her.

Though she tries not to let it show, he can see the slight change in her expression. Her smile falters, but it takes a trained eye to notice.

She’s talking about Hiccup. Hiccup their heiress, not Hiccup the Dragon Master.

Because she was a girl and he's a guy.

Pastry forgotten, he pets Toothless with a knit in his brow. The dragon's eyes are closed, but he knows he's listening in.

Astrid watches them from the corners of her eyes.

The Dragon Master is here because stories of his many exploits reached far and wide. They heard about how he could control dragons, make them do his bidding. And as Berk was desperate for an end to the Dragon Scourge before they’re annihilated, Astrid took her peers and went to find him. They implored him to help solve their predicament. How lucky they were to find out he already knew what was terrorizing them for three centuries. All he asked in return is that Berk accept and try to live with dragons.

He lost his leg killing the Red Death and thus the Dragon Riders were born. It’s still a relatively young endeavour, but Snotlout has already proclaimed himself the best dragon trainer Berk has ever seen.

Hiccup nearly lost his life saving their village, now he’s their hero, and they will make good on their promise to help him protect dragons.

And now he’s going to try and find their heir… Heiress. Because Stoick’s daughter disappeared one day when the poor girl was only 15, snatched away by a dragon as the rumors go. Just like her mother before her.

Seeing the Dragon Master live so harmoniously with the beasts who took her, there’s some newfound hope that she might still be alive even after all this time. Or that is certainly Stoick’s hope.

His hatred for dragons, it isn’t as deep as the love for his daughter.

Or so he’s been told.

“You should come down with me,” Astrid decides to strike up another conversation. “I think some time spent amongst humans could do you some good.”

“Oh, what’s that? Are we trying to civilize the feral dragon man, Astrid?” Hiccup asks her.

“Well, you could use some manners.”

“Right. Anything Snotlout can teach me?” He teases her back, her laugh causes his heart to flutter. Okay, maybe the feelings are still there.

It’s a shame that, too, will have to stay secret.

His smile falters at the thought, though he tries to force it to stay.

“In all honesty, I guess I’m hoping to make you stay,” after a beat of silence, Astrid admits. “Having you here seems to do our chief some good.”

Hiccup perks up as do Toothless’ earfins. “It does?”

Astrid nods, but doesn’t elaborate. That will be her mystery to hold.

What about him makes Stoick so happy that his people have started noticing? Are it his deeds? Or does he, perhaps, remind him of his lost child? Could it be the similarities in his face? The hair? The scrawny physique? Though he’s not as much scrawny anymore as he is lean. Compact.

Or is it really simply because his deeds have saved the village from being wiped out? Kept the lives of their young children from being snuffed out through raids, famine, or disease?

Maybe it was out of a need to test the waters, but he straight up gave them his name when they first asked. His real name, the one he kept. Astrid had looked at him, expression unreadable, and simply said "okay."

"Okay."

No sign of recognition. What a haircut, some bindings, and boy clothes don't do to a person.

Oh and rumors. Because of course, Stoick’s daughter- who couldn’t focus on household chores long enough before getting sidetracked by her crazy ideas- couldn't possibly do what he does. Though, every rumor speaks of a man, which is exactly how he prefers it, though it still stings.

Astrid and Ruffnut were taught to be warriors, meanwhile Hiccup was desperately taught how to be a wife. Not even how to be a chieftess. A wife. A mother. After all, someone had to protect her once Stoick couldn't anymore and that meant she had to be appealing to someone. It was appalling.

And apparently, there was a suitor on the horizon.

Sounds to him like their heir left in the nick of time.

Astrid rises to her feet, Hiccup and Toothless both watch her. “I’m rejoining the party, I still have to show Stormfly our chicken pies.”

The Nadder squawks excitedly behind her, her spines flex enthusiastically.

Hiccup huffs in amusement. Turns out, Stormfly adores chicken, it’s her favorite food! Her Rider should absolutely introduce her to this delicacy.

“You can get some as well if you plan on joining us,” Astrid tells him, hands on her hips.

“I’m familiar with chicken pies, I did live in a village at one point,” he reminds her. He told her a bit of his past after a bit of questioning. Some bits and pieces to keep it vague enough, he doesn’t want to be found out for who he really is.

Unfortunately- or fortunately depending on who you ask- the twins have spun a story about how his parents were killed when he was very young and the dragons raised him, which is how he got so good at bonding with them.

It’s only true in that the dragons do take good care of him, just like he and Toothless try to protect them. Particularly his inner circle, consisting of a Night Fury, a Deadly Nadder, a Monstrous Nightmare, a Gronckle, and a Hideous Zippleback. All released from the very kill ring behind them.

With one last smile, Astrid leaves them, mounting Stormfly before the two fly off.

Now finally left alone again, Hiccup’s smile disappears and Toothless warbles at him quizzically.

“I’m okay, Bud,” he assures him. It was a pleasant conversation, but for him, there’s a bit of an aftertaste. Everything on Berk gives him that aftertaste because everything reminds him of his past.

A past in which people didn’t like him or anything he did. When everyone else’s idea of giving him a bright future was to make him worthy to be married off and have children with. When no one could’ve ever thought the embarrassment of Berk could ever be the Dragon Master they ran to for help.

Upon first coming to Berk as his true self, he was surprised to find that Stoick’s daughter was missed as much as she was. All this talk about finding her, all this worrying, recounting the stories they have of her… Why did he have to disappear for people to stop taking his existence for granted?

His hands find his dragon again, who lifts his head again. They’re at eye-level.

"Why wasn't I enough, Bud?" He asks and Toothless purrs, nuzzling him. He throws an arm around him and holds him close, in need of his comfort.

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

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Play Me A Song

Paring: Tom Holland x fem!reader

Summary: This is based off the video of Tom playing guitar that he posted on Instagram:) Tom facetimes you to help brighten up your day.

Warnings: none

A/n: Not me using fan fiction as a coping mechanism for my stress, yet ONCE AGAIN.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

✧───── ･｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

“Hellooo, gorgeous girl!” Tom cooed as his face popped up onto your phone screen.

You let out a nasally giggle, the side of your face snuggling deeper into the pillow Tom would use when he was over at your house.

Tom tilts his head at the phone, a hint of a smile on his blush colored lips. The action caused his mop of chocolate brown curls to slightly bounce, catching your attention. You longed for the feeling of running your hands through his soft hair. You missed the way it felt between your fingers and how it would make Tom nuzzle closer to you.

“How was your day? You sounded a bit upset on the phone.” He checked in, voice soft and sweet, yet full of concern. His brows furrowed, causing a wrinkle to form between his brows.

You breath in, smelling the hints of him on your pillow. He was miles away, FaceTime allowed you to see and talk to him, though it wasn’t the same as him being beside you. If you were together right now, he would probably envelop you with his protective arms, pull you into his warm chest, and press kisses all over any bit of your exposed skin. His curls would tickle against your neck while he buried his head into the small space between your neck and shoulders—though you wouldn’t mind the tickle because it would remind you that he was there with you.

You sighed, “Today was a rough day. My professors have been piling work on us and I got called into work on my day off. I haven’t even gotten to start that research paper for class—I’m just so burnt out. I’m tired of trying, Tommy.”

Tom pouted, bringing the camera near his face to feel closer to you. He only felt the heat of his phone screen against his face, but he could still feel the light vibrations of your voice through the phone’s speakers. He placed the speaker of his phone slightly atop his chest, so he could feel the rhythm of your words against him. It reminded him of the days you two would cuddle after the both of you had long days at work. You would tell each other about your days and bask in the feeling of being in each other’s arms. He missed the feeling of being close to you.

“I know you have a lot of work to do, but you need to give yourself breaks, darling. And don’t tell me that you don’t need a break, you’re human (y/n), there’s only so much you can do in a day.” He began. Tom knew how you could get when college got overwhelming. Sometimes there were weeks where you would throw yourself into work, with no sleep, minimal food, and too many cups of coffee. He adored the diligence you had for your education, he wished he could’ve had that when he was still in school, but he wanted to make sure that you were taking care of yourself.

“Listen, you got this, I know you do. You’re the most intelligent and hard working woman I have ever met in my life. There’s nothing you can’t do, because I know, one way or another, you’re gonna find a way to do it. You always do. I just don’t want you to forget to take care of yourself. I know your education is important, but so are you.” He finished, a small smile forming on his lips. You hum in response, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself Tommy.”

What you say seems to reassure him, his shoulders visibly loosened up and the smile on his face grows a bit wider. Your own lips turn up on their own, reciprocating his smile.

“How about you, how was your day?” You ask him. Tom sits up and leans against his headboard.

“Well they’re still renovating the house, so Harry and I decided to rent out a place not too far from mum and dad’s. We actually had lunch with them, I got to see Tessa—gosh, I wish you were here right now. Tess was bouncing all over the place and giving everyone kisses, you would’ve loved it. And Paddy! He’s gotten so much taller since I’ve last seen him, and his voice keeps getting deeper, it’s actually embarrassing for me to be beside him because I’m older and I sound like I’m the one going through puberty.” He rambled, one of his hands making gestures and his face making expressions as he spoke. You loved the way he could just go on about a certain topic, especially when it came to his family. As sad as it was to see him leave for the UK, you were also happy because you knew he’d get to see his family.

He continued to talk about his day until his leg bumped into something, causing a hollow thump to emit from the object.

“What was that?” He leaned forward, the sound of his sheets rustling as he moved to grab the object filling your speakers.

“My guitar.” He grunted, holding the instrument up. “Remember, you got this for me for my birthday!” He proudly reminded you. You had gotten him the Ed Sheeran edition Martin Guitar after he had been going on and on about wanting to learn how to properly play the instrument. At the same time, he had a little obsession with Ed Sheeran and his music, so when you saw the guitar in the shop, you thought why not? You knew he would love it.

You fondly chuckled at him, “Yeah I do! You even promised to write me a song one day after you opened it.”

The last part of your sentence caught his attention, “I will write you a song one day, I’m very serious about that promise, love.” He pointed at you.

“Oh, are you?” You tease him.

“Yes, I am. In fact, ever since I’ve gotten back home, I’ve been practicing again and I’m doing much better.” He confidently told you.

“Can you play me a song?” You softly ask him.

“I can play you ‘Grow as we Go’ by Ben Platt. It’s the song I’ve been practicing.” He placed his phone against a pillow, using it as a stand. He placed the guitar in his lap, positioning his fingers on the frets and strings of the guitar.

“Yeah, play anything. I just wanna hear you play.” You mumble, your voice coming out in a muffle against Tom’s pillow.

“Just a warning, it’s probably not that good.” He mentions, shooting you a playful look.

“I don’t care.” You smile. He starts to softly strum the opening of the Ben Platt song and you couldn’t help but smile. He looked away from the camera, trying to focus on the notes and giving you a good look at the side of his face. The light shines part of his face, leaving the features you can see dark in the shadow, though it didn’t stop you from making out his gorgeous brown eyes. His long fingers move fluidly along the strings, creating a sweet melody on the guitar.

He stumbles a bit, making him whisper “Bollocks.” The little hiccup didn’t stop him from playing and so he continued to strum the guitar. You decided to stay quiet, letting him be in the zone. He messes up again, this time saying “bollocks” louder than the first time. You see him slightly shake his head as he regains his focus and places his fingers on the proper strings again.

You fondly watch him as he play, admiring the man you call your boyfriend. His fingers twitch on the string causing him to pause. He sucks his teeth, a bit of a frustrated grin on his face.

“Mmm.” He looks at you before turning away, “Okay.” He plays again, brows furrowed together in concentration as he tries to play the part of the song his keeps messing up on. You couldn’t contain the giggle that came out of you when he cringed at the sound the guitar made when he tried to play past the note. He pauses looking at the ceiling and tries to figure out the next notes.

“Alright, last time.”

“You’ve got it.” You encourage him. Your words give him some confidence and he shoots you a sweet smile. He readjusts the guitar in his lap, this time keeping his eyes on the strings as he plays. He strums the song again, starting off slow then slowly getting faster. Though his pacing was off by a bit, the song still sounded great nonetheless. You were thoroughly impressed.

He stops playing sitting back against the headboard, “I don’t know why I speed up though. I don’t know why I decide to do it so quickly.” He says into the camera.

You laugh, “It still sounds great though, I really enjoyed it.”

Tom tilts his head at you, teasingly squinting at the camera, “Even with the amount of times I kept stopping?”

“Yes, even with the amount of times you kept stopping.” You laugh, adjusting your phone. Tom puts the guitar aside and grabs his phone. He lays back on his bed, his head resting on his pillow and his curls sprawling out on the cushiony white surface. One of his hands rest behind his head as he stares at you.

“I’m gonna keep practicing. So the next time I see your beautiful face I can serenade you with a song and my guitar.” He muses, a lazy grin on his features.

“That sounds like something out of a chick flick.” You snort. He shoots you a playful glare, “Shut up, you love it.”

Tom knew you were a sucker for chick flick gestures. Kissing in the rain, watching the sunset, you name it.

You sigh, scrunching up your nose, “Yeah, I do.”

“But only from you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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359 notes · View notes

wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IX

Word Count: 3,087 Warnings: PTSD. Children. Fluff. Angst. Emotions. Dialogue heavy bullshit. Author's Note: Welp... this is it, y'all. I posted the first chapter of this on March 4, 2021, and it's coming to a close today on April 5, 2021, and I'm... a goddamn mess. I'm not ready to let these characters go, both the TF boys and my own character in Leah. I really appreciate all your kindness and encouragement throughout writing this, my whole heart belongs to you. Thank you, I hope you love this as much as I love you.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Her room is painted like a sunrise. He remembers the first time he went up there, like it was the first breath he ever took. All rising pinks and melting blues.

He wanted her to feel that freedom from the beginning.

Leah’s hands climb his back, a kiss pressed to the hot skin between his shoulder blades as he dips to pluck his peaceful little girl out of slumber.

“Baby, let her sleep.”

But he’s shaking his head, careful with hers in his hand, “she can sleep later, I need her with me now.”

“Hmm,” she hums, turning him to guide him back to their bedroom, “keep that enthusiasm.”

Their shuffle is quiet, Luna’s big eyes slipping back to sleep nestled into her fathers shoulder.

He’s been home for over half a year and as he crawls back into bed, baby and wife clinging to him, part of him still can’t believe it. That after everything he told her, she let him stay. That, like tonight, she’s soothed the new nightmares like the old. That he celebrated Christmas with them, Luna’s first.

That he watched her lift herself up and take her first steps. That after all he had done, those first steps were towards him.

That he helped blow out the candles that he helped light, on the cake he helped make for the little girl who has her daddy’s eyes. His dimple. His smile.

One hand splayed across each of their backs, he’s talking to Leah but directing it at Luna when her bright brown eyes open again to find his.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, Leah’s soft hand falling on his under her small back, “I’m sorry that mama and papa woke you up.”

She reaches a tiny hand up to his face and he melts into the small touch of her, his heart swelling at the unbelievable luck he has in chances granted again and again when a little, “papa,” tumbles forward in the softly lit room.

He feels Leah jump and his eyes snap to hers before they both fall back to Luna, just over one year.

“She just sa—“

“Say it again, baby,” Leah coos, tears spilling over Frankie’s eyes.

She doesn’t understand but as she grabs for him, the small voice repeats, “papa,” and he didn’t know his heart could feel so full despite all the compounding moments of fullness she’s brought to him. That they both have.

He bites his lip while looking into Leah’s glassy eyes and knows that her heart is just as swollen in this moment and all the others.

“The next one’s first word will be mama,” his hand finds the small swell of her lower belly, “I promise.” —————

She presses a coffee cup into his hand before taking a seat across from him on the living room floor, baby toys and blankets strewn across the space between them.

“What happened?”

He takes a deep breath, finding the words he spoke out loud to his team in Lorea’s mansion, “A serious fuck up.”

“I figured that much, Francisco, but what happened?”

So he tells her and she lets him.

He tells her about the seventeen grand of Santi’s own money. How he promised himself no live fire and let himself and his desperation to give her and Luna and himself the best lead him into shattering his soul again. Ripping it up as life drained from the eyes of his fellow human beings and how he didn’t even have the protection of a flag on his shoulder to ease a semblance of that pain. How even if they were bad guys, they weren’t his bad guys to worry about.

He tells her about the helicopter crash, the result of his own greed for the money and for a lack of conflict led to more loss and conflict. How he doesn’t know if he’s the one who fired first on that village but he knows he fired, an automatic weapon slung across his shoulders as easily as the diaper bag he carries through the grocery store for her.

He tells her about the crumbling mountainside, how all he saw at the bottom looking down was himself never coming home to his girls. How that’s when something within him finally snapped, when he and Will silently decided to take the reigns from Tom and Santi’s hands.

He tells her about the fire, burning hundreds of thousands of dollars to keep warm in the freezing air that wrapped around the Andes. About the gunfire that followed them through the rocks in the morning sun.

About standing over Tom’s dead body, the relief and guilt crashing inside him like a warm front meeting a cold one. How he thinks he’ll feel those both every day that he wakes because, unlike the survivor’s guilt easing through you on active duty at the knowledge that this just happens sometimes, this time was different.

He tells her that, after all of that, he threw millions of dollars down a snowy ravine in the middle of Peru where no one would ever see it again, not even his girls who needed it so much because he realized it wouldn’t be fucking worth it for them to have it if it meant not coming home.

He tells her how he almost shot that kid in the jungle. How he would’ve shot every kid standing between him and the boat to get home to his own.

He tells her that he thinks, at the end of it all, Santiago and his plan ended up doing more damage to that country than not.

She listens intently, focused wholly on him. Her face never breaks but he can see the cogs turning behind her eyes, trying to take it all in. Trying to understand.

“I understand if you want me to leave, if you never want to see me again,” he reaches out for her hand, a shiver of shock running through his spine when she doesn’t pull away from him.

Blinking as the words catch up with her, her head shakes, “I just got you back, Francisco, you promised me you wouldn’t leave again so why the fuck do you think I want you to go now?”

“Because what I did is unforgiv—“

“It’s not, there are terrible men in this world who do worse everyday,” he sees the slight sheen of tears coat her lashes, “and you helped stop one of them.”

“There will be others to take his place,” he says around a sip of his drink, his coffee gone cold in the spaces between all his words.

Her hand gives a squeeze to the one it holds, “there will always be others to take his place.”

His breathing evens out, anchored in his chest by a warmth he doesn’t deserve, “there's something else you need to know.”

He tells her about the five million dollars they were able to make it to the boat with, “we signed it all over to Molly and the girls. Will and Benny and I, we decided to do so while Santi was sleeping. We figured, ya know, at least we were coming home. It wasn’t really money we were losing since it was never ours to begin with, Tom’s family lost everything and they didn’t even know it.”

The tears do come now, streams running down his face, “I couldn’t stop thinking about how close you came to losing everything and not even knowing it too.”

His stunted words around the hiccups in his throat draw Luna’s attention, her babbles reaching out to him the way she tried to soothe Leah’s over the weeks prior. Their attention is on her now, eyes wide as she lifts herself with the couch for leverage.

She toddles one step towards his still shaking body before tumbling forward, his hands dropping the now empty coffee cup and Leah’s hand to catch her.

He pulls her small body close, hiding his face in the crook of her neck to inhale the scent of baby lotion. As she giggles in his ear, he looks up to Leah’s soft face, “the boys and I still took three hundred thousand.” —————

“You're fucking insane,” Deana doesn’t quite whisper into Leah’s ear, “a whole ass baby with another one barely even a year old, have you heard of a condom?”

“How many mimosas did you have already, D?”

Kristyn struggles with her key in the door, a large bag in hand, “judging by the slight slur, I’m going with about three so far.”

“Fuck off, K,” she points, turning back to Leah, “I'm just saying that if that big goofy idiot husband of yours goes on another of his boy’s trips, I will kill him this time.”

Her fingers are still quoting around the air as the threat falls around them, Frankie’s attention at the other end of the room grabbed away from the pureed carrots of Luna’s lunch.

“Well,” Kristyn interjects, holding the bag forward, “that’s why I come bearing the gift of one Benjamin Miller, he couldn’t be here because of a boy’s trip.”

“What do you mean?”

Leah looks back at Frankie, his eyes now turned to the conversation. She sees the pain and confusion there, he didn’t know.

Kristyn follows Leah’s gaze before looking back at the older sister in front of her, “he promised me this was his last one and he’s sorry it had to take place during your baby shower but,“ she holds the bag out again, “he says you’ll like this one.”

“It's not a shower,” Leah rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kristyn interjects, “a sprinkle. Whatever.”

“It’s not even that since, ya know,” she looks down at the tiny bundle in her arms, “he's already here.”

“A birthday present then,” she beams, “Benny says he’ll set it up when he gets home.”

Frankie’s laughter finds them now, choking around the baby food he’s trying to convince his stubborn daughter of—she’s not and she’s learned how to voice that disgust with all thanks given to her Uncle Benny.

“Baby, it’s another military surveillance camera.”

Kristyn laughs, “yeah, our whole house is strung up with them at this point but they come in handy to watch the neighbors since I’m nosy.”

“When did they leave?” His voice is small, a slight worry behind it.

Kristyn lets out a breath, “about four hours ago, he made me promise not to tell you until he was gone.”

He just nods his head, a silent clock beginning to tick in his brain. —————

It’s been two weeks since he heard from Ben or Will.

The boys have been here day in and day out since they came home last year, always were before that and even more so now that all they truly had was each other and the families they were making with and around each other.

Benny ran through Kristyn’s apartment complex screaming her name so loud as he started to bang on her door that he was met with a baseball bat. Now that idiot was going to be his brother because the sight she was met with was one of Benjamin Miller on his knees with a ring in his hands.

They gave them space with the baby’s arrival, small and short visits until Leah felt ready to have them all over again. He spoke to them that morning as he shaved the night’s stubble away, they talked like they were coming by and how they couldn’t get enough of their new nephew. How they were getting him the best present.

Frankie runs his forefinger and thumb along his mustache now, the compromise of facial hair he settled on. He didn’t want his full and sparse beard but he also felt lighter at the way Leah laughed into him with every brush of his lips.

He’s pacing the living room, bouncing the baby as Leah and Luna nap upstairs. There's only silence and the soft gurgling of a newborn when the quiet knock comes.

Already close to the entryway, he closes the distance and whispers a silent prayer to himself. A prayer that this isn’t bad news. That this is Will or Benny, not using their keys out of courtesy to the newness of little life inside his home.

He opens the door and is met with the tired eyes of Santiago Garcia.

“Hey, Frank,” he says. All bravado of his being seeped from him and replaced with, what sounds like, apology.

He adjusts his son in his hold, ushering the shorter man in so the warmth of the house doesn’t keep seeping out, “I thought you were in Australia.”

“Yeah, well,” he turns to face Frankie again as the door closes, “I make some really shit decisions sometimes.”

Frankie scoffs, half a laugh hidden in the sound. He’s not wrong but he’s not exactly right either.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He’s walked through to the kitchen, the shorter man falling in pace beside him, “we’re a dry household right now with the baby and my therapy bu—“

“Nah, Fis-Frank,” he stutters, “just came to talk to you. And Leah. She around?”

“She’s resting but I can pass along a message if I like it.”

Santi reaches into the leather folder he always carries around and produces a booklet, the one from the lawyer in St. John’s.

But different, a different cover and date, a different name stamped across the front.

“The boys sent me to give you this alone, said we needed to talk about a few more things than just this. Said I needed to apologize to you and to your wife, that I owed you that for so much but especially roping you into that shit last year.”

“Water under the bridge,” Frankie replies softly, changing direction to move through to the living room, “I gave up on an apology a long time ago and Leah never expected one, but nobody’s mad at you.”

Frankie carries the bassinet into sight from the kitchen before walking back, “what is this, Pope?”

“It’s your cut, we went back.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re stupid and greedy and we fucked ourselves up getting it in the first place so we figured we’d go back and we figured we fucking owed you.”

Frankie squints at the shorter man, searching his eyes for the hint of a joke he’s not laughing at. There is none. His cold brown stare is dead serious.

“This is my apology to you, Fran—“

“Frankie,” Leah’s voice filters into the room, he can hear her sleepy shuffle as she pads across the carpet now, “did you feed Santiago while I was asleep or should I?”

“I fed him, baby,” he calls over his shoulder.

He looks back at the man who helped shape his life, tears welling in his eyes, and hears Leah talking about ordering Chinese for dinner as she crosses the threshold but he doesn’t hear her. He can’t hear anything over the squeeze around his midsection, Santi’s quiet strength taking all of his air and senses.

He lets go as quickly as he grabbed him, Leah’s presence heavy in the room now and he crosses the room to gather her in his arms, a kiss pressed to each cheek and then her hair. He’s careful not to hug as hard as he had Frankie, conscious of her still healing body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between them, “for everything I’ve done and everything I wasn’t around for.”

She’s trying to catch her breath, trying not to cry herself, “it's oka—“

“I should’ve been here for you guys.”

Her small hand comes up to pat the curls, a little more gray than a year ago, “you are now.”

He pulls away from her, a hitch in his voice as he says, “can I hold him?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “but you gotta wash your face and hands, no tears or snot on my baby.”

He mumbles to himself about how that makes sense as he moves to the sink, fumbling over the soap in the holder as he shakes with nerves.

She makes her way across the kitchen, wrapping her still sleepy being around that of her wide awake husband. The low lying winter sun is filtering through the windows, bathing everything in soft, warm light.

She sees the golden cover of the booklet on the counter and taps it, “what's this?”

Daylight Family Trust is stamped across in big bold words.

“That was the boy’s trip,” he whispers, “that’s our cut.”

He watches her as she slowly reaches for the document, the one that explains how this all works and looks between the men.

“How much?”

Santi rips a paper towel from the roll, “about thirty-five million.”

Frankie holds her as her knees start to give out but she’s still looking at Santi, she’s still looking for the joke he never made.

“Daylight's your call sign, you know,” he says cooly, “all the wives get one too, did he ever tell you?”

She shakes her head, looking at her husband now and thinking of all the times that very word fell from his lips.

“On our last real deployment,” Pope continues, “he was flying as the sun was setting and the sky was pure gold over the desert—“

Frankie’s eyes never leave hers, arms tight around her now.

“—he said it reminded him of the way the gold flakes in your eyes reflect the sunlight back at him, he called you Daylight until he got home and shed the callsigns altogether.”

“Frankie?”

He presses his lips into her forehead, his hand a heavy weight on her lower back that says, I’m right here.

“Your daughter has the same golden flakes in her eyes, like you, Daylight.”

Frankie runs his thumb along the swell of her cheek, "all I wanted to do last year was get home to you both, all I wanted was to make it right and see that reflection of light back at me through you both again.”

He leans down to softly press his lips to hers before nuzzling his nose into her hair, “our son has them too, the same gold in his eyes, it was the first thing I said to Ben when I walked out of the delivery room.”

"It was the first thing they said to me," Santiago says, "when they got off the plane."

“Like me?” Her voice is soft, the heaviness of sleep still clinging to her limbs.

“Mmhmm,” Frankie hums, “like Daylight.”

191 notes · View notes

howisavedtheworld · 3 years

Text

i got you | matsukawa issei

genre: fluffy 2 the max, fem!reader x frat guy!mattsun (but not like the annoying disgusting frat guys LFSJDFJS) college!au

warnings: alcohol/drinking, drunk ass reader sfsjdfsd, its really up to you if its underage LOL

a/n: matsukawa is the love of my life. i know he would take good care of his gf if she was drunk as hell. im undecided if i like how this came out but im posting anyways! ty for reading :D

wc: 1.4k (crazy bc i wanted it to be less than 1k lol oops)

you are not a disaster drunk.

at least, that is what you’d known to be true in all your years of alcohol consumption. oftentimes, you were the assigned mother of the group when your friends spent a night downing shots in a sleazy bar. you’d held back hair and kept a colossal number of heads from falling into public toilet seats when their escapades turned left.

it wasn’t like you quite minded either.

you figured it was better to be the safe haven than the one needing saving.

matsukawa issei, on the other hand, is a downright disaster drunk.

every time he passes his limit, which he often does, he loses most of his motor functions, and becomes heavily reliant on anybody willing. every word he does manage to get out is followed by a hiccup. then a burp. and finally, a foreshadowing gag.

you’d seen it before, and frequently had to drag his disorderly six foot frame to bed after he hurled into your toilet.

you knew what you were signing up for.

after all, you’d met him at his very own frat party.

he’d been drunk enough to spill an entire white claw on you and promptly begged to make it up to you with your favorite drink of all time. you had to explain to him that it wasn’t an alcoholic beverage, but he still insisted on treating you anyways.

eventually, he became your boyfriend and you adored him despite his inability to drink in moderation.

the only thing that you found semi-endearing about his inebriation was the fact that he forgets that the two of you are separate beings. instead, he clings to you like duct tape, his burly arms clutching your waist and head lolling back and forth between your shoulder and neck affectionately.

he especially likes to speak when drunk, slurring and whining things along the lines of:

“you are so pretty, you do know that, right?”

“how did i get so damn lucky?”

“you’re the best girlfriend ever.”

a sliver of you considers that he says these things purely out of intoxication, but you like to believe a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.

you never brought these moments back up to issei in fear of his dismissal of them. instead, you cherish them secretly, stroking his curls while he lays with his head in your chest when the night finally ends.

you continue to indulge these whimsical scenarios in which he actually does mean the things he says, and it works for a while. the little untold truth feels harmless.

it isn’t until the roles were reversed that you find yourself in a frenzy.

hanamaki, issei’s best friend from high school and another member of his frat, decides to throw a party for his 21st birthday. that meant booze was oozing from every corner of the enormous communal house, and sweaty bodies were scattered around every inch.

issei had told you prior to the party that he actually wasn’t going to drink, explaining that he was still recovering from the previous night in which he and hanamaki drank a dangerous amount that left him vomiting for hours.

“this night,” he exclaimed earlier that day with a foolish grin. “this night is yours, babe.”

you’d had a stressful week anyways, and figured you might as well take advantage of the free alcohol.

it had been a while since you’d drank. naturally, you’d forgotten the importance of pacing.

though the shots initially burned in the back of your throat, everything you downed started to taste more and more like water and the space around you felt less and less tangible. you were sure mattsun had been at your side all night, but time blurred to a point where you knew little of what was truly going on.

unsure of how much you drank, your eyes eventually opened to see you were slumped against issei’s broad shoulders with your legs wrapped around his waist.

“i cant believe it, babe.” a strong hand rubbed circles into your back as he hiked you up the stairs leading to his apartment. “i thought you only drank a few shots, but next thing i knew you were just gone. look how the tables turned, am i right?”

he let out a soft chuckle, finally reaching the door of his room. your head was spinning rapidly, and you groaned, trying to move back to make sense of the space around you.

he lets out a curious hum, but a hand moves to keep your head in place.

“no can do, babe.” the sound of a key jingling and door shifting lets you know you’ve finally made it back. “i’m glad you’re up, but if you move too quickly, you might vomit. i got you.”

you let out a whine, but your head drops back into the dip of issei’s shoulder.

how had you gotten this fucked up?

again, you didn’t mind taking care of him or any of your other friends, understanding the nature of college, but to be on the receiving end meant to endure your self-inflicted humiliation.

“alright, let’s get you some water. oh wait—no, i might have some gatorade left in the fridge.” he mumbles to himself, navigating around the kitchen island.

your eyes fluttered, far too heavy to open, and your body focused instead on processing the sounds around you.

the fridge opening.

a soft tsk.

tap water flowing.

the soft pad of his feet.

a door opening.

he had finally softly situated you (or at least tried to) in his bed, but a heavy pang ravaged your skull from the change in position, forcing you to loudly groan.

issei hummed knowingly, and his hand quickly moved to support the back of your head.

“here, baby. here. can you drink this for me?” he coaxed.

your eyes blinked open to see him holding a glass of water closely to your face, straw dangling in front of your lips.

you complied, hoping the water would make your insufferable headache dissipate.

“that’s it, thank you. drink it all if you can. if you want more, i’ll get you more.”

you do finish the glass, and your head falls back into the hand behind it.

you’re too ashamed to look at him, but you feel his eyes on you.

the empty glass against the table.

his soft breathing.

“you feeling okay, baby? do you think you wanna throw up?”

you shake your head carefully, fearing too much movement would trigger another session of heavy pulsating.

“okay, baby. i’m here. whatever you need.”

his hand behind your head tenderly found its way to your scalp, softly massaging the skin.

you had no idea, but you were letting out appreciative sighs.

“that feels nice, babe? okay, i’ll keep going then.”

you finally got enough of a grip on yourself to glance up at him.

he was staring down at you lovingly, lips turned upward in an unabashed smile.

there was no hint of the shame or disappointment you feared he would have towards you. actually, the only thing you could sense from him was love.

“i-issei.” you managed to whisper.

“yeah?” he softly spoke, looking at you expectantly.

“i’m sorry.”

he shakes his head in disbelief, immediately moving to sit in front of you.

“sorry for what? for having a stressful week? being a college student?” he let out an exasperated laugh, fingers still rubbing your scalp.

“you don’t have to apologize to me. how many times have you done this for me? you’re my girlfriend. i’ll always take care of you, you know? i’m lucky i even have you. sometimes i don’t even believe it.” he murmured.

“that i got you. the kindest, most beautiful girl in this world. that you gave me, some random guy in a frat your time of day. i’m always shocked. thank you for choosing me.”

your body froze at the impromptu confession, and your feelings of chagrin and fear dissolved into nothingness.

it was evident that issei loved you, that his drunk words didn’t even compare to his sober ones.

“i love you.” you weakly whispered back.

he leaned in to press a light kiss to your forehead.

“i love you, too. you know i got you, babe.” he said, smiling. “forever.”

#matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu x reader #mattsukawa issei #matsukawa issei fluff #not sure how to tag yet lol #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #matsukawa x reader

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shinebrightlikeanarwhal · 3 years

Text

Random SF ideas

It has a lot of Travis ships because that's my feral lil bby. I'm having fun keeping him from bullying people by bullying him instead lol

Every time he enters school Sal mutters “anything can happen in the Bronx”. Todd is the only one that doesn’t understand.

Travis is emotionally constipated and will take it out on others, but later do small things as his form of apologizing. Philip and his mother are the only people that understand him and understand why. Sal thinks he may be bipolar and Larry has probably called him the r-slur under his breath. (Stinky boy probably would say it openly if not for Sal's disdain for that word).

Maple and Travis bonding over jewelry and make up. Travis won’t admit it to anyone but her but he likes the way Maple accessorizes. Obligatory Chug appreciation to keep on her good side, later forms a healthy and wholesome friendship.

Travis and Larry fight verbally. It doesn’t get physical unless Larry loses control and shoved Travis. This prompting a snarky reminder that Larry is no better than Travis’ own father. They cuddle and fall asleep later tho, after Sal puts them in their get along corner.

Nicknames. Travis’ weakness is nicknames. Lisa discovers this and shows Larry and Sal who abuse this power. Travis’ tan cheeks are bright red anytime he’s out public with them because of their stupidly sweet nicknames. Their go to for reactions are baby(boy), sweetheart and bottom

Shameless PDA when Sal is jealous. Travis learns the hard way how easy it is to make him jealous when a hand is in his waist and holding him close to the shorter. Fingers tracing any exposed skin to keep Travis focused on him. Sorry Lar, you took up too much Travis time..

Travis’ mom being an absolute babe. Apple if her eye is her sweet boy. Probably passed while he was young and had to watch him grow in that unhealthy environment.. maybe reaches out to Sal for help since he’s more intuitive. Def terrifies Larry a couple times as a prank. He hit her son, bully or not, it just felt right to braid his hair to his bed post a couple times and paint his nasty thoughts on his chest.

Travis hates surprises and loud noises because of his father. They don’t learn that until they throw a surprise birthday party with cheering and loud pops of confetti balloons, his panic attack damn near gave him a heart attack. (He refused to accept apologies for something they didn’t know. Instead demanding they spoil him for the rest of the week as compensation for his hospital trip on his birthday)

I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Service. Animals. Mr. Phelps legally obligated to give him a service animal and Travis is somewhat saved from Kenneth's abuse. Taking more time outside for walks (the dog can’t bare letting Travis stay in the house for long with his father home). He genuinely bonds with other students over his new dog (the dog allowing contact when not in uniform but if Travis’ needs are present will attach itself to Travis’ hip.

Religious trauma and coping. Because PLS, can we please address the amount of abuse because of the Bible?? That boy may stay and follow the proper words of his lord. Or he could detach himself from the church entirely (especially because of the cult!)

Travis ships: Salvis and Larvis

Asked out: Oh. Oh no. How did they fall for Travis?!? What did they do to find that feral little kitten so cute?? Was it they dyed hair? The dresses when he shows off more legs than they anticipated? Him apologizing and changing for the better?? What happened to him to make him so interesting!? Sal absolutely starts approaching Travis cautiously. Taken aback when he's greeted with a warm smile and compliments. They start to grow as friends and spend time together often. Sharing eachother with their friend groups and on their own. It takes a couple of years before Sal nervously asks Travis if he would be interested in getting closer. Travis doesn't understand and Sal just awkwardly blurts out if he would try dating him... for an experiment or anything. Travis is excited, he wants to be closer and happily hugs onto Sal as his answer.

Larry is a lot ore aggressive. Cornering Travis and glaring down at him. Demanding to know what his game is. Travis doesn't fight he just nervously asks if Larry hates him. Larry almost says he does but gets distracted by the trembling and cowering kitten before him. Fuck, he can't possibly hate Travis. Larry instead starts approaching Travis. At first Travis is afraid that Larry will hit him if he doesn't like something he does. Larry hates to admit it, but Travis infested his mind. Dreams were no longer sacred when teenage hormones and a new love interest were involved. Many a times he had to look away when Travis were a particular skirt or dress because his dreams seemed to run rampant with those items. When they finally talk, Travis initiates it. He Pushes Larry into a bathroom stall and demands he explain himself. He's staring at him like a piece of meat and following him around. Larry is scaring HIS friends. Larry doesn't even hesitate to pounce on Travis. Mouth to mouth and hands on ass. Travis surprised but kinda into it allows the kiss until Larry gets too handsy. He returns to his friends with an angry red hand print on his cheek. It takes a month of apologizing Travis finally agrees to give Larry a chance. (Larry tells his mom and dances around the apartment that night)

First kiss failures: Larry got too into the kiss and starts feeling up the poor boy. Sal pecks him in his sleep and never tells Travis. He just happily holds the memory of kissing his sleeping princess.

First dates: Larry tries to show Travis the fun things to do in this sleepy little town. Travis is excited just to go anywhere other than church and school. At first there are a few hiccups, maybe weather, maybe places are crowded or cancelled. But it still ends well with the boys passed out in the truck, snuggled under a blanket Larry stores with a big smile on their face. Sal is much more romantic. Candles and flowers. Dresses up nice and styles his hair in a neat bun. He wants to impress Travis and assert he can be the man for him by presenting more masculine (Travis snorts and tells him even in a dress Sal could fight a bear). Its a simple dinner at home with Gizmo as their lazy server, sleeping on the couch in a little suit. The night ends well with the boys enjoying a night stroll and admiring the calm and almost desolate surroundings of Nockfell.

First Times: Sal does NOT expect Travis to offer it. In fact, he almost shattered his favorite mug with the tight grip he put on it. Travis thinks this means Sal doesn't want him, but no nono, Sal wants it/ He wants Travis bad. That simp wastes no time scurrying to their room, cleaning his bed and all necessary items are prepared. He was well stocked for... college purposes, but Travis offering to give Sal his first?? (Yes. He did a victory dance and scream in the tree house when he thought he was alone.)

First Time: Larry would waste no time, grabbing Travis and making sure, this is what he wants. Larry may sleep around before they got together but he would never expect Travis to offer his first time so soon. Travis agreeing and Larry in tears hugging onto the confused man. He has never been so gentle with a partner and savored every second, sound and action. It may not have been Larry's first but he was more than happy to say it was his best. Larry would 100% scream to Sal about it later though. He is a man that appreciates his partner and would be an aftercare fiend. Relishing in any reactions Travis gives him while massages and treats the poor tired bum.

Living together: Hell hath no fury like Travis on cleaning day. The boys no not to be in his way if he has his cleaning apron and swiffer. The only one allowed to interrupt his most sacred day is Gizmo and any animals they adopt. Larry has to moderate his metal music or sleep on the porch, he tried to test Travis and found the porch uncomfortable during a rainstorm. No ghost hunting after 11pm. If you even think Travis will allow you in the house after hunting ghosts he will promptly pack your bags and ship them off to your parents. Sal has his own room dedicated entirely to clothes and accessories. His prosthetics he tries to hide at first but after a harsh scolding from Travis (while he literally hand cleans every single prosthetic so Sal doesn't get an infection) Sal starts putting them away where he feels comfortable and clean. They don't expect Travis to be semi nude half the time. Especially before they marry and start a family, no pants. Never wearing pants. Larry hams up the free skin. Sal is too embarrassed of his sinful thoughts.

Proposals: Travis would be terrified of marriage after what happened to his mother. If they were to propose they ould make sure he is fully comfortable and settled in their new life. They would make sure he is loved and never feels any of the fear his father had instilled in him. Larry mentions marriage in passing to gauge his reaction. Ig Travis tenses, he kills the conversation and instead distracts Travis. If Travis reacts positively he would sneak a ring on his finger and just smirk until Travis realizes and smiles. Sal =, however, is sneaky. Keeping close tabs on Travis. If Travis starts showing signs of interest, he would 100% plan the biggest proposal for Travis and make sure he feels cherished during every moment.

#travis phelps #larry johnson #larry x travis #sal fisher #sal x travis #salvis #larvis #laravis #sally face au #sally face #Travis having the absolute power over his simps #Lisa would be surprised Larrys boyfriend is the Phelps boy she saw on the news

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jelly-belly-fish · 3 years

Text

I wrote another story. My friends really wanted me to post this one, so here it is. Be warned, it has my own headcanons in it too.

TW: Cursing, Bullying

The First Meeting, Pt. 1

“C’mon, ‘Dreadgory’! Hurry up!” Xavier yelled at the boy.

“I-I’m coming,” Gregory sweetly stammered in response to his fellow classmate.

Giving the Glamrock Freddy plush he was holding a final squeeze, Gregory placed the bear plush back down on the gift shop shelf. He wanted to buy it so bad, but guess it’ll have to wait until later.

“I’ll come back for you,” he cooed softly, giving the plush a soft pat on the head, “I promise.”

The plush only gave silence as a response. Just the happy little expression sewn on its face. Gregory smiled softly back at the empty response.

“C’mon, sissy!” Gregory heard Jaxon call out to him next, “The meet and greets are starting soon! We don’t want to be late because of your slow ass!”

“Language...” Gregory whispered as he ran over to his group of friends. They all slouched and sat around the giant fountain near the grand entrance of the PizzaPlex. There were four of them: Xavier, Jaxon, Zachary, and Ian.

Xavier was a ginger with an undershave haircut. It was both smooth and spiky at the same time. Gregory always thought that the fashion trend of the boy was too mature for his age, but he didn’t question the leather-jacket-wearing 4th grader, less he wanted a bruised jaw again like last time.

Jaxon was the oldest fourth grader in Gregory’s class. With his almost-white-blonde hair and being the fastest one in gym class, he was a crush for every girl in their grade. Gregory couldn’t think of one girl who didn’t want to spend reading time with him or trade food with him at lunch. Anything to get his attention.

Zachary was probably the nicest to Gregory. Then again, that’s not saying much given how many times he dunk Gregory into sinks and dumped food all over the boy. The African American boy wore a white, zip up hoodie and blue shorts. Zachary stuck his tongue out at Gregory as he approached.

Last there was Ian. He always wore black and blue and had green eyes that always seemed like they were emotionally dead. He laughed at the most random things and told terrible jokes. And if Gregory didn’t laugh, he always got what was coming to him...

“Took you long enough, egghead!” Xavier hissed as the boys started to get up from their resting positions, “I swear if we miss these events, I’ll—“

“Xavier, shut your face!” Zachary sneered, “The more you complain to Gregory, the higher chance we’ll miss the shows! C’mon!”

As the boys started making their way to the escalators, Gregory felt a tight grip on his arm. He nervously turned to see Xavier squeezing his arm. Gregory gave Xavier a fearful look.

“This isn’t over, Evans...” Xavier hissed, thrashing Gregory’s arm down before going to join the others.

Gregory shook his head quietly, kneading his arm.

“They’re my friends...” Gregory reassured himself. Then he started to follow the group of boys up to the other parts of the PizzaPlex.

XXX

“Does everyone have their tickets?” Jaxon inquired the group as they approached the Green Rooms.

Ian giggled slightly.

“I don’t have any tickets! I’m gonna see Moondrop!”

“Seems like you guys would get along...all creepy and tell weird jokes...” mumbled Gregory under his breath, looking at the glossy, tiled floor.

“You got something to say, Dreadgory?!” Ian snapped as he grabbed the boy’s shirt collar, pulling him in close.

“You need to be nice to us, Evans,” Jaxon snarled, “you don’t want to be a crybaby who plays by himself at recess again, do ya!?”

Gregory’s heart pounded fast. He could feel the tension in the air as Ian tightened his grip on his shirt, still glaring at him with those dull green eyes.

“I-I’m sorry...” Gregory’s eyes started to sting. His brown eyes were now squeezed tight as he prepared for their punches.

Gregory didn’t get any punches, but the floor greeted him with a harsh slap as he fell onto it. His breathing hitched as Gregory shakily got onto his hands and knees. Head still low, Gregory looked back up at his group of friends. They all towered over him now.

“We’ll let you off this time, shorty...” Jaxon sneered, “It is your birthday after all.”

Ian broke out in hysterical laughter.

“Awww look at da little baby! Is he going to cry?!”

The rest of the boys started to snicker along. It was true, Gregory was going to cry.

Gregory could feel tears start to drip from his eyes. He tried to stay strong, but he could feel himself cracking.

“C’mon guys, let’s leave the birthday boy to his birthday tears!” Xavier cackled.

They all started to leave, talking amongst themselves about what animatronic they were going to see. Jaxon to Roxanne Wolf, Xavier to Montgomery Gator, Zachary to Glamrock Chica, and Ian to Moondrop.

The only one left was the main star himself: Glamrock Freddy.

He was for the birthday boy.

He was the only thing Gregory was looking forward to seeing on his birthday. The only thing to make his day better. Gregory looked down at the blue and white Fazbear Entertainment ticket in his tiny hands. Gregory then held a small smile on his face. Wiping away his tears, Gregory stood up and made his way to the Green Room of the one and only Freddy Fazbear.

His heart started jogging in his chest again. He was both excited and scared at the same time. He wasn’t the biggest fan of animatronics, but there was something about Glamrock Freddy that he loved so much. His kind demeanor, the way he cared about every child he met, his powerful vocal chords when he spoke and sung, he was like everyone’s dad. Everyone’s weird, robotic, bear dad.

As Gregory approached the green room for Freddy, he saw a red curtain draped in front of it. His pulse quickened. Why were the curtains closed? Picking up his pace, Gregory ran to the front of the curtain. There was a white sign in front of the sparkly, red curtain. Gregory’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“OUT OF ORDER.”

No.

No!

NO!

NO! NO! NO!

Gregory’s teeth gritted together. He sucked air through his teeth as tears poured from his eyes.

This had to be fake. It couldn’t be real.

Gregory could sense the teasing and humiliation coming already if the other boys founded him like this. Founded the only dream he had for today to be crushed.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.

He just wanted to hide away forever.

Without even thinking, Gregory dashed into the curtains and into the room behind.

It was a dark room. The only light was the little sliver coming from the cut between the two curtains. Not seeing anything around him, Gregory fell onto his face. A pained grunt slipped past his lips as his face squished into the firm, velvety carpet.

That was the final straw for him.

Curling up on the floor, Gregory hiccuped the smallest of sobs. He laid there for awhile, silently crying over his birthday being ruined.

“It’s not fair...” Gregory pulled himself into a tighter ball, “It’s not fair, it’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair?” A mocking tone asked behind the boy.

Gregory snapped up and scuttled backwards.

In the darkness, the only light being their phone flashlights, were Xavier, Jaxon, and Zachary.

They were all different however, and certainly not for the better. They were all wearing masks of the characters they all went to see. There were not visible eyes in the masks, making them look like empty voids in the darkness. They stared at him eerily, sending chills down Gregory’s spine.

“Did the baby boy not get what he wanted this year for his birthday?” Xavier questioned further. “Did he want to be forgotten?”

Gregory shook his head quickly. No...

“You know, Xavier,” Jaxon said, in a overly exaggerated thinking pose, “I heard there’s something special about these animatronics...especially Freddy...”

Gregory didn’t like where this was going. He slowly started to scoot back.

“Freddy has a special way to treat sad birthday kids!” Jaxon laughed. “He EATS them!”

“Wh-Wha...” Was all a shaken Gregory was able to say before getting snatched up by the bullies.

“And we gotta keep the bear happy and STUFFED, now don’t we Gregory?”

They flashed their lights onto the animatronic who was hiding, decommissioned in the shadows of the room.

Gregory kicked and screamed for them to let him go.

“You did this to yourself, runt,” Jaxon warned, speaking through his Roxanne mask’s wolffish grin, “You just HAD to be upset on your birthday!”

As Gregory continued to cry out louder now, Jaxon clamped a hand over the boy’s mouth, muffling his screams.

Zachary jumped on top of the small stage that Glamrock Freddy stood on. He felt around the animatronic’s chest and stomach like he was searching for something.

“Hey Jax!” He called out over Gregory’s muffled cries, “How do you open this?”

“Press his bowtie, stupid! Just like how my mom showed us!” Jaxon scoffed, struggling to keep a grip on Gregory’s squirming torso. Xavier did his best to control Gregory’s legs.

With a click and a hiss, the bear’s broad chest opened. With only the phone lights as his guide, Gregory stopped struggling for a bit and stared at the now opened chest. In the harsh lighting mixed with complete darkness, the chest cavity of the animatronic looked like a dark void...ready to swallow Gregory whole.

Gregory thrashed about even more now, like a fish trapped in a net. He wanted to cry and scream for them to stop, but Jaxon’s hand only made him make suppressed yelps.

They brought him closer...and closer....

Finally, with a good and quick shove, Gregory was forced into the tight darkness. Gregory quickly turned his head around to see the opening of the chest cavity snap close behind him. Gregory was now soaked in enclosed darkness.

“NO!” He cried.

Gregory pressed himself against the sealed entrance. Sweat made his hands clammy as he pounded against the plastic wall. Tears flooded his eyes as he anxiously knocked against the fake material.

“PLEASE LET ME OUT!!” He begged, choking between sobs, “PLEE-EEASE!!”

His cries only got muffled chuckles in response. Those chuckles made Gregory grasp onto reality. A silent fearful look took over Gregory’s tear stained, sweat covered face.

“Listen to him, the fuckin’ idiot...” A softened Xavier cackled.

“Oh, if only Ian was here,” Jaxon wheezed, “He would be laughing his ass off right now...”

Gregory’s good heart wanted to remind them of their language, but he forced himself to stay silent. That didn’t stop his tears from flooding though. Hitched breaths were sucked in through his teeth.

“Guys... I think he’s been in there long enough,” Zachary whispered, “I don’t want to get in trouble with my dad about this.”

“Oh shut up, Zack..” Xavier snapped, “The little bitch just needs to learn that him crying is so annoying..”

“Yeah,” Jaxon agreed, “No wonder no one is friends with him.”

Gregory’s heart froze. The dreaded reality finally sat in. The one he fought so hard to not accept. Tears continued to flow as he leaned against the plastic wall, sobs ripping from his throat.

Gregory truly was all alone in this world.

As he sat there, bawling his eyes out in the darkness, Gregory couldn’t help but feel something, or someone, watching him. Watching him...and watching the bullies outside his tomb. He felt the omnipresent stare on him. It felt angry. It felt judgmental. It felt...protective.

Gregory looked around the tight space. There was no room for anyone else to be in here. Heck, there was barely enough room for him to be in here. His knees ached with cramps. His feet were pressed against the metal wall behind him. Gregory wanted out...and he wanted out now. And he wanted the feeling of being watched to go away too. It certainly wasn’t helping.

Despite his silent pleas, Gregory continued to stay in that chest cavity, and the feeling of being watched only got worse.

“C’mon guys,” Jaxon sarcastically laughed, “Let’s leave the little birthday boy to his little gift from us. I’m sure he’ll want to be alone to enjoy it alllll to himself.”

That one sentence brought back the fear and dread Gregory had only mere moments ago.

“WAIT!!” Gregory shrieked, “YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE ME IN HERE!!”

He continued to knock and slam his hands hands against the plastic wall. They seriously couldn’t be leaving him here...they couldn’t be...

“Oh, I think he’s loving it so far,” a much more distant Jaxon called out, “Have fun in there, Dreadgory!”

A burst of the boys’ laughter erupted again, suddenly being even more muffled by a curtain swooshing. Soon, the laughter faded away, only leaving Gregory in complete darkness. Complete, eerie darkness. The only sounds were Gregory’s cries and pleas, hopelessly trying to get their attention, to make them come and get him out of this stupid chest cavity. All he got in response was his cries and knocks echoing in the tight space...

After what seemed like forever of begging and tears, Gregory’s screams dialed down to soft whimpers. He hugged his knees and held them up to his chest. Gregory’s body was soaked in sweat. His forehead was beaded with the salty liquid. The dark air and his clothes were now dampen from the sweat and his tears. Still in utter darkness, Gregory continued to sob quietly, thinking of what just happened. Were his friends right? Did he really deserve this?

The little birthday boy sighed, wiping his tears from his eyes.

“Maybe they’re right...” he croaked, “M-Maybe I...I do deserve this..”

Gregory then buried his face into his knees, his eyes beginning to sting again.

“I’m all alone...” he shuttered, “Tr-Trapped in here... forever.”

“You’re not alone.”

Gregory’s head shot up. His heart began to pound quickly again. He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

“Who...” Gregory panicked, “Who’s there?!”

“Do not be afraid, little one,” the voice softly continued, “I’d never hurt you.”

The voice...it was rumbled like thunder and as gruff as rusty metal, but it was gentle and quiet as a butterfly. And most of all, it sounded familiar.

“Gl-Glamrock Fre—“ Gregory started, only to be interrupted again.

“Let’s make this more comfortable,” the voice proposed, “They’re gone now, so it’s safe to come out.”

There was a soft click outside. A click of a button? Gregory’s heart fluttered. Could this really be him? There was a hiss and more clicks. Gregory could feel cool and new air flush against his face. The chest cavity was now open.

Part 2 coming very soon!

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #glamrock freddy #fnaf sb #fnaf gregory #fnaf fanfiction #fnaf headcanons #fnaf oc #???#i mean kinda #fnaf glamrock freddy #fan fiction #people really seem to like my stories #so here’s this

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

hello!! i am really really sorry if this sounds pushy or somethin but, will you ever publicly release that post swearth drabble you made?? i just curious

Today is actually the scheduled day, and on my partner's birthday no less, how fitting! Originally posted to my kofi for early access to supporters, now it's here for everyone!

Synopsis: Swerve and a human reader share a talk when he awakens after Swearth.

You were the first thing he thought about when he woke up, or so he would tell you later. Moments after he'd confessed how it was your touch, your tiny body clinging so tightly to him, that had welcomed him back to the land of the living. Apparently that had been the clue he needed to realize he wasn't dead.

It had been just you and him in the medical bay for hours following the... Swearth Incident, save for brief check ups from Velocity. The crew had given the two of you ample space and alone time once it was confirmed Swerve would soon awaken, both out of respect and to avoid the talk that would doubtless be needed between the two of you. There had been more than one occasion where you'd drifted off in the eternity it had taken for him to completely return to consciousness, your much smaller body protectively clinging to his beneath a blanket some unknown visitor had been kind enough to lay over you.

It seemed silly now, but you'd actually been angry when he'd come to so casually, yawning and rubbing his visor as if he was just waking from a nap. There'd been happiness as well, obviously, but you were still struggling too deeply to pretend everything was okay. Quite frankly, things had never been less okay between the two of you.

Had you not been able to project down onto his fantasy world, joining the rescue party despite the copious limits of your biology, who was to say you'd have ever seen him awake again? He'd been hiding away in his room for months, dissuading you from visiting him by claiming there was "a huge mess that I'm too lazy to clean up"... Knowing that you weren't sure which hug had last been with his real self hurt more than you were ready to accept.

"Y/N...?"

Anger was briefly swallowed by a tsunami of relief when he sleepily murmured your name, his helm turning to let your face reflect on the newly polished surface of his visor, where your tear slicked expression dissapeared as you hugged him as securely as his broad shoulders allowed.

"I thought I'd lost you..."

A knot in your throat prevented any further words from tumbling out, but the sobs that started to shake your whole body conveyed your thoughts just as well, sending a surge of hot tears splashing against his chest. Arms thicker than you wrapped gently about your smaller body, as calmly as if he were comforting you after a nightmare. A slight tremble in his grip made you hiccup in despair, your experience with his rather frequent hugs telling you the exhaustion from his still recent brush with death was still weighing him down, as ordinarily he would hold you like a lifeline for even the most casual embrace. Too many terrible things were finally registering as real far too quickly for you to process them all.

"I thought... when they called me into the medical bay..." You lost the tirade you'd been saving up to a storm of long buried grief. The memory of that call would forever haunt you, and now it was so recent the words were still burning in your ears, even though they'd been delivered so carefully... Agony from the sight of a familiar body lying broken on a medical slab made you nauseous, enough that only his increasingly desperate hug kept you grounded enough not to puke. Words poured forth in a cracked whisper, all the fear you'd been holding back for his sake rushing out of you without restraint, and interrupted only by an occasional hiccup or sob. "First Aid said you had days... That we'd been talking to a hologram for months, while you... you..."

The servos holding you tight maneuvered you to look him in the visor, keeping you in a loose hug while he put on what was probably intended to be a reassuring smile, though it failed to convince. "Hey, it was no big deal! Just my old shoulder wound playing up!"

"No big deal?" you repeated incredulously. A full body wince beneath you made it seem as if the words had physically hurt him, and while your heart ached as it always did when he was in pain, your other feelings could no longer be contained. He needed help for the suffering he'd endured in private, but in doing what he'd done you had nearly lost the one you cherished more than anything in the galaxy. You couldn't be expected to just let that go.

"You nearly died! You were dying for months!" you said, disbelief still strong at the very idea. The bot you'd adored had been dying in secret with no symptoms, making it impossible to truly believe he was okay in this moment either. It seemed as if he might crumble beneath you at the slightest movement, but you kept talking, refusing to be quiet. "No one knew, not even me, that you were wasting away while we thought everything was fine! I didn't know! How many times did you hold me, or tell me you wanted to be together forever, while you..."

Sobs made it impossible to breathe, and therefore impossible to talk.

"Y/N, I'm sorry..." Swerve said, softer than he'd ever been before. Careful servos pulled in your crying body against his and stroked your shaking shoulders, allowing you to vent everything you'd been enduring. Whether it took moments or hours before you were mostly quiet, he didn't interrupt you for anything, and he was silent until you were and he spoke again. "I never wanted to hurt anyone... I never wanted to hurt you... I... I didn't even know how bad of shape I was in."

"But you knew you were lying." you said, getting back to the core of the problem. Awareness of his condition mattered far less in the face of what he'd known and kept on doing. Though he did flinch yet again, Swerve didn't deflect this point, and instead nodded glumly in agreement.

"That... yeah, I did."

"To everyone." you emphasized, pushing for an answer in regards to why. Not a single soul on the ship had known what was happening, until it was almost too late. Had Skids not acted so quickly and carried his friend to the medical bay directly... You made a mental note to thank him later, then returned to the present when the minibot in question finally looked ready to really talk.

Taking more than a few starting vents, he finally got his thoughts gathered and his nerves primed, but every single word was unnaturally heavy. "It... it really didn't seem like a big deal. You were the only one who ever wanted to see me, in my own place, but it felt like I was doing you a favor..." Swallowing hard, he managed something like a smile and tried to sound reassuring, even if only to himself. "We still got to talk and everything else!"

There was too much to sort through in his partial explanation, thus you only stared. You'd always known he had issues when it came to self worth, but to hear him say teetering on the edge of death was no big deal? That by ridding you of himself he was doing you a favor? It wasn't something you could really wrap your brain around, but you supposed that wasn't important at the moment, not compared to what still needed to be done. There were more questions to be asked.

"You're hurting, and that's... I know you'd never try to hurt me, but you did. I want you to feel better, and I'll help, but I have to ask..." you said softly, finding the strength only as you came to each individual word to continue. Swerve showed in his braced expression that he anticipated something heavy was coming, a question he really didn't want to answer, but he didn't do anything to stop you.

"Y/N..."

Trying not to cry but still hiccuping, you forced yourself to keep looking in his visor. This wasn't supposed to be easy, after all, you repeated in your head as you finally croaked out the question. "Did you think about me at all? What this would do to me? Did you really think I wouldn't care?"

Something within him, something physical, seemed to break quickly and painfully. You felt it in how he flinched his much larger body as you lay curled over him. The unique way his visor light sputtered when he was hit with deep emotion told you he was reeling, and in that moment you forgot all about the complexities of the situation.

"I... I didn't-" he choked out on a sob, vents pulling air back and forth quickly in the Cybertronian equivalent of breathless crying. Heart breaking, you registered in some deep part of your brain that a dam he'd been relying on had just cracked. Embracing his helm against your chest, you gently stroked his cheek, whispering his nickname to try and convey your support.

"Swervy..."

Clipped by sobs, his words tumbled out mostly coherently, and you held him as they did. "I r-really thought you could... could do better. I'm just h-holding you back and... and if I wasn't there... but I couldn't make myself stop seeing you!" A few hard sobs stopped him for a good minute, at which point your shirt began to dampen with his tears. What you were hearing had been simmering for ages, and as much as it hurt to hear, you knew just letting it out was progress. That didn't make it any easier to listen as he continued...

"The holo... it was s-slow and made it like... like I was saving us both from hurt by slipping away. I didn't have to end things, we could pull back bit by bit and then... then you'd find someone better... but I didn't pull back at all, did I? I even made a second you, because I'm too selfish-"

You couldn't let him finish that thought. "Stop. No more of that."

Swerve looked surprised at your firmness, and admittedly had reason to feel as such. Swearth had included a holomatter of you already, albeit one that lived completely separate from his split personas... It had been you in the simplest, happiest of ways, living your dream life on his fictional escape from reality. Clearly he expected you to still be furious at what had only made you sad.

"B-but I ruined everyt-thing! If I'd just been brave enough to break up with you before-"

"I don't want you to break up with me!" you cried, lifting your upper body to look down at him. Emotions raged inside you with enough ferocity to make you tremble, and for an instant you had to gather yourself. You'd known he was suffering, that he struggled with inadequacy, but for it to have gotten so bad? How had you not known he felt like this?

Swerve looked absolutely baffled at your words, as if he'd heard you wrong or misunderstood. "But... I-"

"I love you! Even if there's some voice in your head that won't let you believe it, it's true! I want to be with you, and even after all this I still do!" you insisted, holding onto him as if he might vanish in a flash like before. Unable to stop yourself from crying at the raw emotions you didn't have the ability to handle, you wiped away the tears on the back of your arm, fighting to keep talking despite the pain. He had to know how you really felt, and if this moment was the only one you could break through to him you were going to use it. His cheeks were hot in your hands as you cupped his face. "I just need you to work on getting better! No more hiding, or lying, or any of that, I want you to be with me as you, because that's who I fell in love with!"

Swerve was totally silent, his little dentae gap showing between his slightly parted lips as he stared at you. His feelings were beyond guessing, but you were growing exhausted, too much to even hope you could keep this up. Sniffling, you laid back down over him. The frame beneath you was warm and alive, but just that morning it had been... he'd been so close to leaving you. Then again, he'd felt fine all the times you'd held him in the prior months, how did you know this was any different?

"I want to be with you. The real you. I don't know how to be sure this you is real either..."

Exhaustion dragged you down against him, and you lost the ability to even lift your head as it all seemed to sink in. You hadn't wanted to make this about yourself, but your pain was just too intense to shove aside. Tears, more than you knew you had, continued to fall onto his chest. As they dripped onto the newly cleaned armor, you felt him suddenly shift beneath you. Curling up partway, he scooped you up completely in his arms and hugged you close.

"It's me this time, babe. A hundred percent. I k-know it's hard to believe that, but I... I want to help you trust me." he said, shaky but firm as he made his promise. For all the hours you'd spent listening to him you'd never once heard him use such a tone. There was conviction in the depths of his visor as he held you close, tapping his forehead against your forehelm. While you could also see pain, there was a desire to fight it now. His request for help came on a quiet murmur. "I don't know how to do that, but I don't wanna hurt anymore..."

"I can help with that. Not all by myself, but I'll be here for you as long as you try." you vowed, stumbling over your words as you found them. There was a strange solace in the idea, as if planning your recovery together was healing in and of itself. Too relieved to care, you pressed your face into his cheek. The faintest hint of his usual scent; sweet energon blends and brews, was still apparent beneath the sterile medical air. It soothed you as you allowed yourself to rest on top of him. "From now on, no more hiding this stuff. We're gonna get you feeling better, I promise."

"I love you..." Swerve whispered, hopefully but tentatively. A lifetime of doubt wouldn't just dissapear after one massive event, you knew that, but the start was good enough for you. Kissing his tear stained cheek, you held him close, hoping your unconditional love was clear in every word. It would be a journey, but you hoped someday he'd understand how much you meant it.

"I love you too, Swervey. Always will."

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light imagine #lostlight #lost light #idw #tf #ll #my writing #swerve x reader #swerve #swearth #kofi

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nctworststuff · 3 years

Text

Pairing- Boyfriend!Renjun x nospecific!reader

Warning-Death,Cancer

Genre: Angst

a/n: Here what you guys got after a months I’m not post anything. Also Thank you my friend,Lucy because helping me a lot :). Hope you guys like it

He always with you

He avoided meeting with you lately. You missed to spend time with him so much. You missed his scent, his hugs, his kisses, his presence, but most importantly, you missed him.

You recently spent a lot of time in your apartment, all by yourself. Watching movies, drinking hot chocolate and staying under your fluffy blanket. Sometimes you went to hangout with your friends, but not as often as you used to. However, today you couldn't take it anymore. I have to visit him, now!

Deep inside you knew that he would never cheat on you. What if something bad had happen to him? Maybe he got sick or maybe something in his family came up? You didn't know. Helplessly you scrolled through your media social. Usually, he would be active on Instagram. Always adding things to his story or at least posting the pictures he made. But ever since 3 weeks ago, you haven't seen him post a single thing. As if he vanished.

You took a look at your photo gallery on your phone. It's filled with pictures of you and Renjun. Everytime the two of you had met in the past months, you had taken at least one picture. Are you okay, renjun?

You didn't want to waste your time anymore, so you walked into your bedroom to change your outfit. You arrived at his house that felt like a second home to you. Big dark clouds covered the sky and sun. It may rain soon. You slowly walked to the door and opened it with the spare key Renjun gave you not so long ago.

You couldn't see him when you entered. Maybe he is in his bedroom? You steped further into his apartment. It was a big mess. You tried to comprehend what could've happened here. The TV was on, adding some noise to the otherwise quiet space. Some old snacks that have neither been fully eaten nor thrown away, covered the floor. It surely wasn't healthy for him to life in all this trash.

You finally went upstairs and pressed the door handle down slowly after knocking and getting no reply. Who knows, maybe he's sleeping? However you suddenly heard a faint crying sound instead of the silence. What's happening to him? Thousands of thoughts were running in your head, creating one scenario worse than the other. "Renjun?" You softly called out his name and fully opened the door. He turned his head and body to look at you, surprised by your arrival. His eyes were more red than white and his face looked as white as freshly fallen snow did.

"Y/n? W-what are you doing here?" He looked at you with what you could only assume was an angered expression. You slowly approached him and sat down on his mattress beside him. You hesitantly leaned your head on his shoulder and put your hand on his thigh, joining his own one. Oh, how often you had fiddled with his slender fingers before. They were just as beautiful as the art they created, but now they were just dried skin and bone. You were convinced, something bad happen to him!

"And why are you crying?", you asked him in return, probably a bit too late, but not that it matered anyways. He kept quiet for about a minute, before taking a deep breath and forcing those awful words out of his mouth. "I have a disease! I-I have cancer..." He closed his eyes tightly to hold himself back from sobbing. The fear that lived within him ever since the doctor told him he was going to die earlier than expected, suddenly skyrocket in your presence.

Shutting you out in the hope of making you forget him, had been so much easier than seeing your heart break right in front of him. You didn't deserve the pain he caused you, so why...? Why are you still here y/n? Why couldn't you stay away from me? "So that's the reason why you pushed me away? The reason you avoided me? Why didn't you tell me? Renjun? Explain it to me. Please explain everything." you looked at his eyes that beared so many emotions, while he bit his chapped lips.

"I-I don't know. I... I was just so, so scared. Actually, I-I knew I had cancer... It... They told me a year ago."

His confession was interrupted by a hiccup. He started crying again and put his hand on his face. You've been together for 3 years and he kept this a secret for all the time, telling you just now? "I-I'm only going to live for one more week. My doctor said there is no other way for me." Why? Why did he need to leave like this? Couldn't he be healthy and grow old with me? Searching in your confused and helpless mind you looked for a solution.

"Hey, i-it's okay. Its not your fault! I-I could spend all my money for your surge-", but he cut you off with a harsh movement by his hand. "You heard what I said. There's no chance, y/n!" Now your eyes were filling with tears, blurring your sight. This can't be true! "You said you would never leave me. You- You promised." The tears poured out of their home, painting a wet line down your cheeks until they dropped down your chin, falling. You too, felt like falling. You were so angry, but not at him, no, he didn't wanted this either. You were angry at the situation. At the fact that you couldn't do Anything.

Watching your little emotional breakdown, Renjun stayed quiet. After he had avoided meeting you for so long, seeing you come back to him, crying with him, still caring for him, there was only one thing he wanted. "Y/n? Can I ask for one last thing, before death is taking me?" He moved his hand to your shoulder, pressing it softly. "Anything for you, Renjun!" You desperately looked into his eyes, meeting his softened expression. "I just want to spend my last week with you. Please. One last time?"

Day 2

Standing in the kitchen for about half an hour, you had made a healthy breakfast for the two of you, since he loved your cooking. You poured some hot porridge into his favourite bowl and placed it on the tray. Walking slowly to not drop anything you brought the food to his bedroom. He was still asleep, looking utterly peaceful.

While you put the tray on a near small table, you called his name softly, to wake him up. Upon hearing his name, his eyelids fluttered open. Still a bit sleepy, he rubbed his eyes and gave you a questioning look. "I made some porridge for you. Should I... feed you?" You smiled at him shyly. He could just nod his head, feeling exhausted even after taking such a long nap.

You sat down beside him and took the spoon to feed him. He followed your every move as you put the still warm porridge in his mouth. A big smile suddenly stretched across his cheeks. "I knew your cooking would never disappoint me!", he complimented, making you giggle. Yet, you couldn't ignore the sad feeling in your chest, knowing you had to accept the fact that he was going to die soon. Only five days would be left after today.

Of course Renjun noticed the way your expression changed. “I dont like to see you sad. Please smile for me” He grabbed your other hand too, making you smile. The smile only he got to see. You don't even know if the sweet smile you were currently wearing on your face would show up for another guy, but for now it seems like it is just for Renjun, who finally noticed the bracelet on your wrist.

"You still wear that bracelet?” His eyes fixated on your wrist. You just watched him with sparkling eyes, while thinking back to how you got that gift. “Of course! It looks so pretty and it bears a lot of memories for me!” He smiled at you with just the same sparkles glowing in his eyes, making your heart beat unbelievable fast in your chest. You didn't knew why, but the comforting feeling of love, the love created between the two of you, filled your now shared room. Softly touching your own cheeks you felt how they heated up.

“It's- wait... I gave you the bracelet 5 years ago, when it was your birthday? A-and we still didn't turn into lovers that day, did we?”, his eyes widened. You simply nodded and started chuckling, him joining not much later. Of course you could still remember the day he gave you the precious bracelet. He was being so shy back then, when he planned to give it to you. Haechan, Mark and all the other dreamies kept hyping him up, after he gave it to you.

“You know what? I really can't believe our relationship will just end soon. I really thought we would last longer. I'm sorry!” He smiled at you again, but this time it was a sad smile. You sighed, closing your eyes in agony. “It's not your fault, it never was, Renjun! After all, these moments are the most precious ones that we have. Trust me, I will love and remember you until I take my last breath!” I'll really do! Besides bringing it up first, you hated talking about his disease so much.

Not because you blamed it on him. Not because you couldn't believe, he was going to die soon, no. You hated talking about it because you feared being left behind. You hated the fact that you'll eventually forget about him. That you'll forget how he smelled, how his hands felt, how his hugs felt. And the worst thing was, that you'll forget how it felt to be loved by him. When did all your laughter turn into cries?

Day 4

"Look! It's your favourite flower!” Renjun points his finger to a small bunch of flowers in the middle of the park. You loved going to this park with him before and today wasn't any different. Softly swining your linked hands back and forth and slowly walking near your favourite flower felt like one of those cliché moments from a drama. Especially when you kneeled down to smell on it.

The heavy, but lively smell of the rose lingered in your nose, bringing up even more memories. Renjun gave you one of those exact roses, when he had confessed that he liked you. A small grin made it's way to your lips. “It looks so pretty.”, Renjun said while putting his arm around your shoulders, “Pretty like you!” You couldn't help, but roll your eyes. This was typically him. Renjun loved to compliment and tease you at the same time

You loved the moments when he was simply being himself. He was acting different. Usually he would be rather harsh, or how people liked to put it, ignorant towards other people’s feelings. But he always cared for you. You were his soft spot. It was only normal that couples had little fights from time to time, but renjun never let the two of you be angry at each other for a long time.

He always was the first one to apologize, or if it wasn’t his mistake, he would still want to make up, inviting you to do something that you liked. His classic line which always worked was weather you would want to eat some food ugh him. It was one of the many personality traits that you liked about him

“Ah! I really want to draw the pond and swan over there! It’s unbelievable pretty!” He excitedly took out his paintings tools and moved the stuff around until it stood perfectly within his reach while drawing. You just followed him and tried to not get in his way.

Tipping the smallest brush into the water glass, he started to draw the perfect scenery in front of you. He truly was talented at this. You couldn’t help but admire the way he let the colors dance on the Canva “Your drawing is so unbelievable. It really does look like it’s real”

His face lit up,once the words left your mouth “This is the last painting I”ll before I’m gone. I want it to be perfect!”he still smiled at you, but his eyes showed how he truly felt. The sadness dominating any other feels. Once again, you sighed. It has been almost 3 years, since you’ve been a couple and now you two just stood there, waiting for him to leave

Quickly noticed How your mood shifted towards a bad one, you tried to change the topic

There will be enough time for me to sad once he left

“Do you remember that this place is the first place we met and-“ “The place where I confessed my feelings for you?” He finished your sentence with a smirk. Chuckling you nodded at the statement

That day he called you and asked you to meet him at the park “ can you cell me?” was that he said, when he actually was going to confess to you. You can’t forget that day. You never will. It’s a very precious moment to you, even if he stuttered a lot and the confession felt really awkward too

“Your birthday is this week, isn’t it?” Renjun suddenly asked. You stopping your thoughts. Right, you totally forgot about your birthday. Surprised you just hummed and nodded. “What do you want for your birthday?” You didn’t need to think twice “I just want you stay alive and healthy. I wish you could always be my side” you smile confidently

That will never happen

It was obvious to renjun, but to avoid you sadder he just smile sweetly at you instead of responding “Can we go somewhere after this? Maybe the shopping mall?” You asked him. He looked at you and hugged you close to his chest “Of course!”

He would spend his time with you wisely and make sure that every precious and special moment will never be forgotten

Day 7

I can't lose him! Please!

You buried your face into his shoulder and grabbed his sweater like your own life depended on holding it. You couldn't believe he was going to die in less than a day. He couldn't... Your fragile, pathetic hope only faded more when he started coughing. In the last few days his condition extremely worsened and you tried to understand why people needed to suffer before dying so much. Isn't death enough?

“It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?”, he quietly asked while stroking your back. “Yes” Your answer was barely loud enough to hear, being muffled by his neck. Still, you hugged him only tighter, afraid of finally losing him. “Y/n, I'm so sorry if I'm not able to be with you tomorrow to celebrate your birthday.” You knew what’s he meant. No, this couldn't be happening! Why were you suddenly to dumb to accept it?

“Please find a better guy than me. A guy who will make you happy, who will stay loyal to you and only loves you. Find a guy who will stay by your side forever. Don't find another guy who'll make you feel dissapointed.” You wanted to tell him, that he never disappointed you, but he already pulled you into a sweet kiss. His lips felt so soft. Soft but rough. It was like your first kiss with him. It was like your first night with him. But in reality, it was your last kiss with him. Yet you saw it as another moment that had been created in this special time.

“You know... I am never going to stop loving you!” You said and looked at him. His face was so pale, you could see the soft blue shining through it. “Me too, honey. There are 7 billion people on this earth but I fell in love with you. We have been a long journey together. Everyone can fall in love but not everyone has a happy ending with it. I'm sorry that I couldn't keep my promise, Y/n!” I know, Renjun.

The worst part for you was that it all happened so fast. But somehow you still hoped this was only a dream. That you would wake up to a healthy Renjun wishing you a happy birthday. Finally the clock was showing 12 AM. It was your birthday. Sounding just as sleepy as you felt he whispered a soft “Happy birthday, Y/n!” He stroked your hair while looking at you with loving eyes, a smile on his lips for the last time, before you both fall asleep under your shared blanket.

Not knowing, that they were his last words.

Day 8

You woke up from a deep slumber and moved your blanket. You saw that Renjun was still ‘sleeping’. Softly you shaked him to wake him up, with no sign of success. He didn't response in any way. After a few more times of you trying to wake him up and him still not moving an inch, you tried to recall which date it was today.

No, it can't be.

Yesterday was the last day you would spend with him. One week. Seven days. All moved by faster than you could remember. In your final hope you searched for his heartbeat, but you didn't hear anything. You couldn't. Now you would need to accept the fact that he was gone. Forever.

You start sobbing. "Renjun, please wake up. Please!" Despite your wobbly arms, you shook his body, screaming so uncontrollably loud that it even hurt your ears. It's my birthday. Today is supposed to be a happy day. This has to be a nightmare. I'll always be by your side. Resonating in your mind you hear a faint voice, but you just ignore it. Renjun was right. Not everyone has a happy ending. And you were certainly one of them.

I'm sorry for breaking our promise

©ɴᴄᴛᴡᴏʀsᴛsᴛᴜғғ@/ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ

#nct 127 #nct dream #nct #nct u #nct 2021 #nct imagines #nct angst #nct scenarios #renjun #nct drabbles #renjun drabbles #renjun angst #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #renjun x reader #nct x reader #nctzen #nct 2020

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iamcayc · 3 years

Text

Sounds of Gojo | Chapter 15: Playful

A/N: Ooooh my lord, I'm sorry for the delay in posting!

Here's some sweet smut for you all <3

🚨 TW 🚨 This chapter starts with some flashbacks to Kaya's personal trauma, so references of sexual assault, death, neglect ahead

Cigarettes and rum. The pungent smells of both stick your nostrils while you fingers race across the ivory keys.

You can’t hear anything, not even your own heartbeat.

Your parents watch in the distance, haughty smiles taunting you as you struggle to keep up with a metronome waving frantically from its perch on the grand piano. The living room is drenched in harsh, white light, cleaning all the color out of the room except for the ruby puddle surrounding Alexander’s limp body on the floor.

You want to scream, but a palm I’m all too familiar with covers you mouth with its pair gropes my breast.

Tears stream down your cheeks and your breath comes in sobs.

“That’s it, sweetheart, stay focused on the music.” His voice is raspy and thick with intent as he palms your breast hard.

“Good girl, Kaya…”

Your heart thunders in your chest as his hand goes lower, pulling the hem of your uniform skirt up your thighs. Every ounce of you begs your body to fight back, to scream, to do anything but freeze and let this all happen again.

“… Kaya.”

Your breaths come in faster, shorter. Alexander starts to decay in front of your eyes while your parents turn their backs to you. His hand cups your mound and a strangled sob finally breaks past your lips.

“Kaya!”

You start to shake, your body trembling.

“Kaya!”

Satoru’s beautiful blue eyes are wide and dark with worry as he looms over you, his thumbs swiping tears from your wet cheeks. You inhale a slow, shaky breath that still sounds like a sob as the nightmare recedes back into the hole it’s claimed in your memory. He mutters a curse before lying back down, pulling you against his chest tightly, his face pressed against your hair as his hands rub your back slowly… soothingly.

“It was just a bad dream, kitten,” he murmurs.

Rationally, you know this. Especially since this particular nightmare pops up every so often just to remind you that you’ve lived though something extraordinarily traumatic.

But that doesn’t stop you from suffering the panic attack aftershocks for a few days.

The rational part of your brain knows that what happened to Alexander wasn’t your fault.

Just like the rational part of your brain knows that your abuser can’t hurt you anymore.

It’s just that the irrational, shattered, fucked up part of your brain seems to be in the driver’s seat right now and you can’t figure out how to say any of this without sounding like a complete fucking lunatic—

Large hands with familiar callouses cup your cheeks and force you to look in his aquamarine eyes.

“Breathe with me, Kaya.” He inhales slowly before holding the breath for a few seconds. You make a lame attempt to do the same, except it comes in like a sharp gasp and your chest wants to burst from having to hold it in while managing your racing heart.

Satoru exhales slowly, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones with the gentlest touch. You mimic him, the exhale going a little more smoothly than the inhale.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs before repeating the exercise.

You mind calms as you breath with him, focusing on the feel of his skin against yours and the lessening pressure in your chest as the panic seeps back into the night. How many years have you spent lying in bed, smothered in your emotions until they decided to give up on you? Too many, honestly.

And now, knowing how utterly safe you feel with a man who has yet to reject you and your baggage, you’re at a loss.

Once your heart slows and the sobs turn into hiccups, you pry yourself free of his hands and slip out of the bed to wash your face. You don’t dwell on the fact that Satoru just witnessed a solid ugly cry, complete with snot. Instead, you splash some cool water on your flushed skin and pad back to the bed after blowing your nose for good measure.

You almost turn on your side to hide, but the giant in your bed snakes his arms around your middle and pulls you over to face him again.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” you mumble after a moment. Satoru frowns and gently flicks the tip of your nose.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Want to talk about it?”

He’s asking you honestly, which is refreshing. Most just badger you until you tell them, but there’s a stronger foundation of trust with Satoru, more so than you had even felt with Zeyan.

“It’s a variation of the same dream I have every year on my birthday.” You start picking at invisible lint on the linens. “Sometimes it’s just a flashback, but foggy, more distant. Sometimes, it’s all the worst parts of my trauma smashed together until I’m lost in it. Tonight, it was the latter.”

He keeps quiet, his fingers trailing along the edges of your body gently. The smell of his sleepy fragrance continues to ground you in the moment, rather than getting lost in the memories.

“I kept feeling his hands on me.” Satoru’s fingers pause on your hip. “My parents just watched me struggle to play while he kept touching me. Alexander was on the floor bleeding out—decomposing as my parents ignored me. I couldn’t get any part of my body to move, I couldn’t stop him, again.”

You suck in a shuddering breath and snuggle up closer to his body, startling him. He recovers quickly, snaking his arm around your waist and working his thigh between your legs to close up any gaps between the two of you. Your body responds automatically to the pure intimacy of the position sending heat through your core, your nerves alert and lust yawning despite the early-morning hour.

“But you woke me up before it got any worse,” you murmur against his chest. His fingers sketch nonsense against the skin beneath your tank top, every stroke feeding a sense of need you didn’t expect after such an intense dream. “So, thank you for that.”

Shifting your hips, you ply a bit of friction to your clit against his thigh. A lick of pleasure flares in your belly at the contact, a flare that kindles something stronger when Satoru’s hips flex into your stomach, his cock hard and needy. He releases a shaky breath as his hands become more insistent: the left pulls you in for a hungry kiss while the right guides your hips into a slow, steady, sultry grind against his thigh. You pull at his lower lip with your teeth, instincts taking over as you melt into the pure pleasure coursing through you. Your mind stops considering the dream and your birthday; instead, you lose yourself in the building frenzy between the two of you.

Your hands come into play, weaving your fingers into his hair and nudging his body on top of your, the feel of his weight as comforting as it is intoxicating. Satoru moans into your mouth as your grip tightens in his hair, pulling at the strands just enough to lace the pleasure he feels while grinding his cock against your mound with a sting of pain. Still, you can sense his hesitation in his languid motions.

As his tongue laves against your neck, you arch up against his chest, reaching down to grip his shaft with a firm hand. His lips separate from your skin with a gasp.

“Stop holding back with me,” you pant, stroking his cock slowly. He rises up on his palms, his head hanging to watch you work his throbbing, leaking manhood. After a second, his hips start to match your pace, pumping to meet your hand as he chases the sensation.

“I don’t—fuck… I don’t want to trigger you.” Your hand tightens. He groans and pumps against your hand harder. “Goddamn, you feel so fucking good.”

Leaning forward, you nip at his earlobe and rub the weeping head of head of his cock against your drenched cunt. He hisses a breath as you work the slick along his shaft.

“I need you, Toru.” His pace quickens but you let go of his cock to get his attention. Aqua eyes with pupils blown with lust find yours. “All I ever want is for you to fuck me and make me yours, over and over again. Please.”

He practically snarls at you as he hooks one of your legs over his arm, his large palm gripping your ass cheek and spreading your pussy wide open as he sheathes himself in you. You both cry out at the feeling, his balls slapping against your ass and the wet, indecent sounds of him thrusting into you filling the night. You will never get enough of feeling him inside of you, against you, on top of you. Sweat-slick skin gliding against each other as you buck your hips to meet his—you just fucking need to feel him deeper, harder.

Fuck. The way his cock stretches your tight pussy sends you higher than any drug or spirit could.

Your lips claim his. Calloused hands spread your legs even wider. Your bodies do everything they fucking can to just meld into one being. Rational thoughts are so far out the window they might as well be in space. All that’s left is the feeling of you milking his cock and his lips nipping—sucking marks all over your skin.

The keening cry you make as your vision bursts into white and incinerating desire floods your body is met with a drawn out groan that pitches higher as he cums with you, pumping his sticky mess into you in an erratic but hard rhythm.

Pure, primal satisfaction settles into your body as you run your hands through Satoru’s damp hair, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. He makes no moves to shift his position, even as he shudders from the hypersensitivity of his cock as you adjust your hips to avoid that gods-awful cramp that tries to separate your pelvic bones from the rest of your body. His gaze locks with yours as you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks, still breathless. His fingers brush limp curls from your face.

“This.” You feel no hesitation as you answer. His mouth quirks into a smile.

“You want to spend your birthday with my soft cock plugging our cum inside you?”

Wrinkling your nose, you flick him mercilessly between the eyes. “No! Jesus, why are you like this? I meant, I want to just be with you today!”

Annoyed by the ruined moment, you jab his side as extra punishment. He squawks, as per usual, and rolls off of you to avoid the next attack. You glance at the clock as you scuttle towards the bathroom; it’s just after 4 AM. A disgusting hour to be awake.

Satoru joins you after a moment, both of you cleaning up quietly before he playfully ushers you back into the bed, curling up around you before you can try and put on a new pair of panties or even a shirt.

“I’m all yours,” he murmurs against your shoulder before kissing it gently. “For as long as you want me to be, kitten.”

Your stomach jolts, warmth blooming in your chest as butterflies take flight in your gut. You lace your fingers with his, nestling into his embrace further instead of responding verbally. You know he didn’t mean within the limitations of today; he meant for the long-haul—the conversation you two dance around like idiots and never really hash out the details.

His slow, even breaths lull you back to a dreamless sleep before your brain can run away with this new information.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re like a cat?” Satoru asks as you yawn for the tenth time on the train. You’re thankful that the route to Shimokitazawa is fairly direct from Yoyogi, though you continue to wish Natsumi opened one of her cafés closer to your apartment so you didn’t have to haul your ass so far when you want some of her famous French toast.

He pulls you closer to his chest, your back all but sealed against him on the crowded train. You know he’s being sweet to cover up the territorial nonsense kicking up against the wandering eyes around you, but in a weird way, you find it flattering.

“All the time.” You glance up at him, catching a glimmer of blue beneath the retro sunglasses from the first time you met. “Kento points it out all the time, to the point that nearly all the gifts he gives me are cat-themed. And it’s no surprise that Yaga made Apollo a cat, either. I’d get some serious side-eye for yawning all the time or asking to take breaks to nap during our training sessions when I was younger.”

A sky-blue eye winks at you from beneath the sunglasses and it pairs up with the Grin. “But you’re my sleepy lil’ pussy, aren’t you?”

“Seriously?”

The Grin widens and the arm curled around your waist shifts, his fingers slipping under the boxy sweater to make contact with the bare skin of your stomach. It’s an innocuous touch, but your body instantly responds with a flare of want and a rush of pleasure at his attention.

It’s annoying how quickly he can get you going.

“I bet I can get you purring right now, too.” His fingers trail along your stomach lightly, the lack of pressure but obvious intent doing exactly what he wants them to: make you wet. “Maybe I ought to give it a try, seeing as you’ve got every guy’s attention right now.”

He’s not wrong. Most of the men on the train have been eyeing you since you stepped on, even though you had Satoru hot on your ass—not to mention most of the men are with their partners or far too old for the attention to be anything but creepy. But, the quiet, wild side of you can’t help but bask in the attention. It’s not like you’re an exhibitionist. No, you’re just petty enough to want to make all the women staring daggers at you insanely jealous for stealing the attention of all the men on the train and call the hottest one of them all yours.

You cock your head to the side, exposing the side of your neck—and the vicious hickie he left there this morning. You can’t see his eyes, but his fingers dare to slip lower on your abdomen, skirting the waistband of your leggings. His cock presses against your lower back with pride as he brings his lips over the bruised skin with a sultry smile.

“Now, that’s not fair, kitten.” He chuckles against your neck just as his fingers slip beneath your leggings, tugging playfully at the band of your thong so the friction taunts your clit just right. “You know I’m weak against seeing all my marks on your gorgeous body, especially your neck.”

“What are you going to do about it?” you taunt, your eyes glancing at the station announcement. A smirk pulls at your lips as you press back against him, earning a rumbling growl and a nip to your neck.

“I have half a mind to warp us out of here and show you exactly what I plan to do about it,” he retorts with a low voice. Fluttering your eyelashes, you snatch his sunglasses, slip them on and dart out of the train just as the doors open to your stop.

You laugh at his yelp of surprise as you dodge and weave through the busy station towards the exit. This playfulness—your instinct says to brush it off as a fluke, a spur of the moment kind of thing, but you know that isn’t really true. You’ve always been playful, even as a kid.

It just got buried beneath the bullshit somewhere along the way.

Not just because of Alexander; though, yeah, he was a big dump of emotional shit.

Just life.

College.

Work.

And, of course, avoiding anything that threatens the tiny semblance of peace you’ve found after stitching yourself back together.

You know you’re at the disadvantage, what with Satoru’s height giving him a bird’s-eye view of your moves, making it easier for him to warp to you. But you still run off, dodging the tourists and locals alike as you rush towards the café. You can feel his aura blur and solidify as he warps tiny steps to close the gap, but you can see the Sleepy Sheep Café sign getting closer and the training you pushed through with Maki and Kento pays off with a final sprint towards the door.

“Got ya!” he shouts as he reappears in front of you so your only choice is to run into his arms.

A peal of laughter bubbles out of you as he spins the two of you away from the door, somehow avoiding the curious on-lookers. He starts laughing with you as he finally sets you down, stealing his sunglasses back before kissing you soundly.

“When did you get so fast?” He pulls out your inhaler from your bag, priming it for you as you catch your breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huff, mostly because your lungs are on fire. “I’ve always been fast.”

He gives you a look that you ignore as you suck in the medication, holding your breath while holding his stare. After a second, he shakes his head and starts to usher you inside the café; the scent of fresh baked goods hits you like a delightful ton of bricks. You release a slow, steady breath and steel yourself to deal with the ogling girls at the hostess station.

“Welcome in, sir!” the faux-blonde chirps, promptly ignoring you. Unruffled, you look around the café for the head of curls you know is here somewhere while Satoru asks politely for a table for two. It’s only when you’re being led to a table near the kitchen that you hear Natsumi giving directions in the back, her no-nonsense tone making you smile.

“Here is your seat, miss,” the hostess says crisply, indicating the chair right next to the kitchen’s doors—one of the worst seats in the house. A weary sigh escapes as you pull out the chair, making a mental note to start looking for restaurants with male hosts.

“I thought I heard your laugh earlier.”

Natsumi appears from the kitchen, her expressive face set in a deep frown as she takes in the table, especially your seat. Her sharp eyes pin down the hostess, who stares at her, wide-eyed.

“I’d love to know why you sat my best friend and her boyfriend at the worst table in the café on her birthday, of all days.” Satoru watches the exchange with keen interest, chin resting on the heel of his palm as the hostess’s eyes dart between you, him, and Natsumi. You almost feel bad, except that your pity won’t save her from Natsumi’s wrath.

“I-I didn’t realize… I didn’t k-know she…” the girl stammers, eyes landing on Satoru as if he’s going to swoop in and save her from her own petty grave.

“Yeah, I gathered you weren’t using your brain so much as your eyes,” Natsumi drawls. She takes the menus and your hand, pulling you along as she leads you back up to the front. “I’ll be taking care of them. Get back up front and let the others know that Kaya Nissen is a VIP from here on out, you hear me? Pull this petty shit again and you’ll be fired on the spot.”

Your new table is at the very front, by the main windows. Natsumi places the menus on the same side of the four-top, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table with a sigh.

“Sorry about that. If I’d have known your sorcerer is such a chick-magnet, I’d have warned the girls ahead of time.” She pulls her hair up into a messy bun before fixing her eyes on Satoru, assessing him in that intimidating, quiet manner that tends to make men squirm.

You wave her apology away. “I’m used to it when going out with him. Besides, you had no idea I’d show up today, of all days.”

Her eyes land back on you, brow raised. “True. I can’t say I’m not stunned to see you out and about today, let alone hear you actually laugh like that.” She glances at Satoru. “Kaya’s laugh is most-recognized part of her. Ken and I could find her in a crowded mall instantly growing up.”

He looks at you, tucking a stubborn curl behind your ear to expose the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Today is only the second time I’ve heard it.”

“You’re definitely hotter than Man-Bun,” Natsumi notes, completely redirecting the conversation. You and Satoru turn to her, blinking in surprise. You had completely forgotten about that weird run-in at the bar. “What was his name again?”

“Geto.” Satoru goes still for the smallest second before relaxing back into the chair again, draping his arm casually along the back of your chair. You put your hand on his thigh, feeling the hidden tension in the muscle there. “Sorry, I forgot to mention this last night. We went out with Kento a few nights ago and this Geto guy started making a pass—”

“A very lame, chauvinistic pass,” Natsumi interrupts.

You roll your eyes and push on. “Yes, yes, a very blatant pass at me. Ken stepped in but he made a comment about you, so I got a bit defensive.”

“What she really means is she got pissed and put him in his place in the greatest way.” Natsumi snickers as she remembers the night, which surprises you considering how many shots of tequila she’d had that night. “Took his shot of Jameson like a fucking champ and told him that you’d ruined her for all other men.”

Satoru grins at that, his brow arching with smug interest. You sigh, silently cursing Natsumi for giving him something to hold over you for the foreseeable future.

“Right, and then I compelled him to forget me.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully as he listens, probably thinking about how likely it was that your compulsion actually worked. “But Ken wouldn’t explain how he knew him, or how Geto knows you.”

He shrugs, running his other hand through his white locks idly. “We were close back when we were in high school, you could say we were best friends. Then, we grew up and started down different paths. He’s a teacher at Kyoto Jujutsu Tech, their principal’s right hand goon, really. I’m surprised he was in Tokyo at all, though.”

“I didn’t see anyone else with him that night,” you recall, leaning back against Satoru’s arm as you try to remember that night. You certainly remember puking your guts up when you got back home thanks to the Jameson.

“Hmm. All the same, try to avoid being alone with him, yeah?” He looks down at you, his smile bright but tense at the corners. “If he finds out that we’re together, his interest in you will only get more problematic.”

“Sounds like a dick,” Natsumi points out, crossing her arms. Satoru chuckles as he nods in agreement.

“More or less.” He leans forward, his smile a little brighter, a little less forced. “Now, I heard you have the best French toast in Tokyo.”

You watch the pair of them discuss the best toppings for French toast with a soft smile, the kernel of concern you’d felt when talking about Geto forgotten as you fall back into the blissful bubble that’s become your birthday. Even when Sumi grills Satoru about his salary, apartment, and all the standard points a best friend hits to make sure their other half is well-taken care of, you can’t help but feel like you’re in a dream; when was the last time you laughed this freely, this often?

He dips his head to steal a kiss when Natsumi leaves to prepare the food. You feel his smile against your lips as you automatically let the kiss linger on, the hand you’ve kept on his thigh slipping higher along his inseam.

“I’ve ruined you for all other men, huh?” he teases. His breath warms your cheeks as he nuzzles your neck, no fucks given about the other people in the café watching you two with interest. The hand draped across the back of your chair moves up into your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp expertly and doing some ridiculous things to your nerve endings.

“I knew you’d latch onto that,” you reply, a little too breathlessly than you’d have liked. You palm the growing bulge in his pants once before leaning away and poking him in the chest to keep him at bay. “Behave. We need food and then we can pick this back up later, deal?”

His blue eyes simmer as he looks at you over the rims of his glasses. “Deal.”

Being warped to his apartment the moment you step into the empty alley by the café doesn’t surprise you in the least.

Getting stripped naked and pressed up against the floor to ceiling window of his apartment while he eats you out from behind surprises the fuck out of you.

The noises he makes as his tongue works your clit makes your knees buckle. Your palms flatten against the glass, everything about the situation fogging your head with lust. The idea of being seen—your desire to be seen in such a lewd, exposed position short-circuiting your reason. He works a finger into your hole, the invasion pulling a low moan from you as your legs widen for him instantly at the pressure.

“I love the way you respond to me,” he chuckles as he kisses the small of your back, just above your ass. Another finger slips into you, his pace steady and slow. “My sweet, needy kitten.”

“Toru, please. Please don’t stop,” you whine as you flex your hips back to meet his fingers.

He rises to his feet, his fingers never stopping while his other hand smacks the rounded cheek of your ass sharply. “I have no intention of stopping, sweetheart. This is what you deserve after teasing me all day with that sweet ass in those leggings. Not to mention getting me worked up on the train, or while your best friend interrogated me over brunch.”

He spanks you again, making you whimper and clench at his fingers. “Besides, it’s my kitten’s birthday and she wants to spend it with me. That means spoiling her rotten so she can’t think about anything but how much I’ve ruined her for other men, right?”

You’re never going to live that one down.

Your retort dies in your throat as he pushes a third finger into you, sharp words melting in a drawn out moan. Three sharp thrusts push you harder against the window before his fingers are replaced with his tongue—fuck. You love the way his tongue dives into your dripping cunt, laving at your interior walls with a hunger you hope never leaves him.

“O-oh, fuck. Oh, fuck!” His tongue drags over your tight asshole as his finger slip back into you. “Toru, Toru, Toru!”

The sensation of his tongue prodding your puckered hole combined with the pads of his callouses massaging your fucking G-spot has you seeing stars, the edge of your climax right there. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

I need more.

“That’s it, kitten. Cum all over my fingers.” He bites the swell of your ass. “Cum for me, babygirl. Do that, and I’ll give your pussy exactly what it wants.”

His voice is your undoing. The low gravel tones pushing you over the edge, your walls clenching wildly at his fingers as your words become a slur of his name and—fuckfuckfuck.

Chest heaving, you ride out your orgasm on his fingers and acknowledge the relentless need still churning in your core. You look at him from over your shoulder, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown. He’s still fully dressed and it’s a problem.

“Toru, fuck me, please,” you beg breathlessly.

His lips tip up into a grin as he starts shedding his clothes faster than you’d ever seen to date before he crowds you up against the window again, your ass smearing your slick all over his cock as he kisses you hungrily. Fingers pull your hair back, giving him better access to your mouth as the broad head of his cock pushes into you, the stretch blissful. He groans into your mouth as you reflexively squeeze his cock with your pussy, his hips rolling steadily into yours to get as deep as he possibly can.

“You feel fucking perfect,” he moans, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder as his hips thrust into you at a steady, deep pace. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I constantly want you. I’m fucking addicted to you, the way you feel, the sound of that fucking gorgeous laugh.”

His teeth nip at your neck, making you whimper and arch your back, getting his cock even deeper. His hands work your tits, pinching at your dusky nipples in time with his thrusts. You’re a live wire; nothing but sensory overload registers in your brain as he fucks you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your life. The wet sounds of your bodies joining together echo in your ears, mingling with his grunts and moans as he plays your body like an instrument, pulling whimpers and gasps and cries from you in a raw and wild symphony.

“You’re fucking mine, and I want everyone to see you come apart on my cock.” His pace shifts into a steady pounding as he pushes your torso against the cold glass. The change in temperature on your skin makes your pussy clench his cock. “That’s my babygirl. Cum on this throbbing cock.”

You were close before but as his fingers slip between your swollen cleft to rub your juices over your clit, a strangled scream leaves your throat as you tumble head-first into another orgasm, your body spasming against the cold window and his sweat-covered chest. Praise drips from his lips like honey as he grips your hips with his large hands and pulls you back to meet his cock faster and faster. He ruts into you mercilessly, the pressure of another climax building in your core.

“B-baby, please… fuck, oh god.” Putting words together isn’t working. “I’m… fuck! Toru, I’m going to—”

His shallow pants match yours as he works your clit with his fingers again. You scream just as your knees finally give out, but you don’t hit the floor. Instead, you collapse onto his bed thanks to a perfectly timed warp, his hips never stopping their rhythm as he overstimulates the fuck out of you. Like animals in heat, the two of you are a pile of grunts and whimpers, his cock urging you on to gush all over him. Just the thought of it—good fucking gods, you need to give him that. You know that’s what he’s after, why he isn’t stopping.

Another scream rips from your throat as all the stimulation finally breaks you. Tremors shake your body as he half-groans, half-yells your name like a holy litany, pumping his own release into you before you both collapse into a still-connected heap.

It feels like it’s taking years for basic communication to come back to you. Your thundering pulse all you can hear as it matches Satoru’s, his heartbeat pounding against your shoulder blade from where he still lies, catching his breath.

“Well,” he pants, “that confirms it.”

It’s ridiculous, how much effort it takes you to reply, “Confirms what?”

“You’ve ruined me for all other women.”

You know your heart would leap if you had the energy to let it. Instead, you let out a weak laugh and lace your fingers with his, the sentiment acknowledged with his hand squeezing yours.

“Another thing.” He rolls off of you, pushing you over gently onto your back while he remains propped up on his elbow. Aquamarine eyes shine brightly as he presses a sweet, slow kiss to your lips. If time stopped—hell, if the world fucking ended right now, you would die happier than you’ve felt in over a decade. That truth settles deep into your bones as you memorize his face in this moment, a moment you know both his walls and yours a nothing but a memory of a past life. When they finally crumbled, it’s hard to pinpoint; all you know is that this is the clearest you’ve ever seen Satoru Gojo and it’s the clearest he’s ever seen you.

“What?” He smiles and lets his lips barely brush against yours.

“Happy birthday.”

#jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #gojo saturo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x oc #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo is a little shit #geto suguru #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara #smut #writing #gojo satoru #also on ao3 #ao3

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somebodycall911onabc · 3 years

Text

More post 4x13, Maddie-centric, a little Madney, a little Buddie. I just want her to be happy. Warning for a lot of emotions in this one, folks.

Maddie is elbow deep in soapy water when her phone starts ringing. She tells Hildy to answer (being a parent has definitely taught her the wonders of technology, unlike Eddie) while she shuts off the tap and reaches for the dish towel.

“Hello?” She asks, seeing Chimney’s name scrawled across the screen. It’s been two hours since he last called—not concerning, but a deviation from the usual.

“Maddie. Are you OK? How’s Jee?”

A bad call, maybe. He could’ve lost someone.

“We’re good,” Maddie says, stealing herself. She hates to lie to him, but she’s being honest in the way he means. They’re not hurting in any way he can fix.

He breathes out a whistling breath over the phone. “Good. Good. Thank God.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. No, I mean. I’m fine. But… Jesus…” He mutters something too low for her to hear. “It’s Eddie. He’s in the hospital — alive — but, but he got… he was shot, clean through the shoulder. Some psycho opened fire on the LAPD.”

Maddie’s heart drops to her stomach, where it stays for another hour until Chimney walks through their door. She’s holding Jee-Yun, who’s wailing like her little lungs are about to give out, but she and Chimney find each other like magnetic poles. She steps into his arms and wishes that the whole world could just drop away. Just her, and Chimney, and their daughter. That would be enough.

“It’s all over the news,” Maddie says. Jee-Yun seems to have been stunned into silence by the unexpected arrival of her dad.

“Athena says they’ve got some of the best people in the department on it,” Chimney says. “They’re gonna catch him.”

“They’d better.”

“Yeah well, otherwise, they’re going to have Amateur Detective Buck on their hands again.”

Jee-Yun starts hiccuping, picking up where she left off, and Chimney steps back to lift her out of Maddie’s arms. She lets go without a fight. She’s so tired of fighting.

“Don’t even joke about that. I’m sure he’s losing his mind—he hasn’t answered any of my calls or messages.”

Chimney attempts a smile. Or maybe all along he’d been going for that twisted grimace. “Bobby’s corralling him, don’t worry. Your brother isn’t going to do anything stupid.”

“Like drag Athena into an active investigation to chase down the man who stabbed you and kidnapped me?”

“Yeah,” Chimney says. “Exactly like that.”

Maddie turns her head to look out the window. She knows what he’s going to say in answer to her question, and she can’t bring herself to look at him when he does. “So what are you all going to do? What happens when someone targets the entire Las Angeles Fire Department?”

“Our jobs,” he says, and Maddie closes her eyes. “We have to, Maddie. We called in C-shift today, but we go back tomorrow.”

“OK,” Maddie hears herself say. What else can she do? How can she tell him that she’s afraid they’ve avoided tragedy one too many times, that she can see them all running to the end of a line, nothing but a long fall below them?

She feels like someone froze half of her in ice, then told the other half to run for her life. She feels fathoms deep in very dark water, but someone is screaming in her ear to swim up, up, up.

When Chimney pulls on the bullet-proof vest, Maddie doesn’t say anything. The human throat wasn’t made for the drawn-out scream inside her head.

Maddie doesn’t visit Eddie while he’s at the hospital. Between Jee-Yun and her own shifts at work, there isn’t time. She feels a little bad about that, but despite their small social circle, she and Eddie haven’t gotten that close over the years. Buck takes up all the air and space when he’s around, a wildfire that she and Eddie chase around and keep from burning up the furniture. But Maddie feels like she should have been there while Eddie was confined to a hospital bed, watching his friends risk the same fate as him when they pulled on their uniforms—she feels a sort of kinship with him. With that helplessness.

So she shows up at his door a week later with Jee-Yun and dinner.

Buck lets her in, which has ceased to be surprising as a general rule, but seems a little suspicious in these circumstances. She hasn’t heard anyone mention Ana’s name since the shooting.

“Jee-Jee!” Buck shouts, whisking Jee-Yun from Maddie’s arms.

“Oh, hi, how are you,” she mutters, watching Buck as he kisses Jee-Yun’s nose and grins. He looks like he needs a long shower and an even longer nap. But Jee-Yun giggles at him as he makes faces and smacks his lips. It’s sweet. It only hurts a little, seeing how good Buck is with her, when sometimes Maddie still thinks of him as that little kid she stitched up every time the world knocked him down. It only hurts a little that for Maddie, getting Jee-Yun to smile is like pulling out her own teeth with rusty pliers (i.e., really goddamn difficult).

“Hey, Maddie,” Eddie says, reaching the door. He nudges Buck aside to make room for Maddie to come in. “It’s good to see you.”

Maddie looks at his cast, at the way Eddie hunches in on himself and the blue-black bruises beneath his eyes from exhaustion and blunt-force head trauma, and feels so goddamn guilty. She should have come sooner. She should have tried harder.

“Hey,” she replies, wiggling the takeout bag, “I come with nourishment.”

“By all means,” Eddie says, sweeping his hand out to the hallway. Maddie leads the way to the kitchen, Eddie slumping behind her, Buck cooing at Jee-Yun and somehow managing not to walk into a wall.

“I figured something light and healthy would be best,” Maddie says, dropping the bag on the counter.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much doctor’s orders,” Eddie agrees. He peeks inside the canvas tote and pulls out a container, opening it up to reveal a big, green salad. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“It was no problem—“ Maddie starts, but she realizes Eddie is wrinkling his nose in disgust, not gratitude. “Oh, shut up and eat your veggies. There’s chicken in it,” she adds with a laugh.

“Where?” Eddie snorts, eyeing the salad like it might come to life and strangle him with leafy hands.

“Chris! Guess who’s here!” Buck, who hasn’t heard a word of their conversation, barrels into the living room where Chris is sitting on the floor with a host of action figures.

“Don’t—don’t let her put anything in her mouth!” Maddie calls after him.

Eddie chuckles and takes a seat at the table. “How’s it going with her? With Chimney?”

“Us?” Maddie keeps her eye on the living room situation while she sits down across from Eddie. “We’re fine. How are you? Buck seems to be living in your back pocket lately.”

“Yeah, he’s been…” Eddie trails off, and Maddie glances over to see him looking at the living room. She turns her eyes back to see Buck sitting cross-legged on the floor, cradling Jee-Yun while showing Chris her tiny fingers. The first time he held Jee-Yun, Buck had lost his mind over her fingernails. They’re so small, he’d said reverently. How could anything be so small?

“I wouldn’t be here without him,” Eddie finishes. “I think I’m going to ask him to move in.” The way he says it isn’t a joke, isn’t something light-hearted about being down an arm or how Buck is free labor. He sounds contemplative. Wondrous.

“Oh,” Maddie says. “But what about… I mean, won’t that be kind of weird for Ana?”

“Buck didn’t tell you?” Eddie asks, turning back to face her and fishing a fork out of the bag. “Ana broke up with me.”

“Oh, my god.”

“I know. But it wasn’t like what happened with Chimney. Ana had the guts to say it to my face.”

“Jesus, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was the right call. I’m not upset, actually.” Eddie pokes around the container until he finds a piece of chicken, throwing Maddie a smile as he picks it up. “It was the easiest breakup I’ve ever had.”

“Well, that’s… good.” Maddie pulls the bag toward her and lifts out her own salad. She’d gotten Chris chicken fingers and fries, but Eddie doesn’t have to know that. Not until he finishes his grown-up, post-ballistic-surgery food. “Then should I ask what your intentions are towards my brother?”

Eddie chokes on his lettuce. She flashes him a smile while he struggles to swallow. “He is a strapping young man,” she adds. “Very… able-bodied.”

“You’re evil,” Eddie says, laughing.

“No, just observant,” she counters. “Every time I called Buck this week, he was either with you or Chris.”

“I keep telling you people that Buck’s suspension wasn’t my fault. I was unconscious when it happened.”

“All I’m saying is, my brother wouldn’t risk losing his job for just anyone.”

“You think so?” Eddie asks, smiling down at the table.

Maddie takes a delicate bite of spinach and pomegranate seed. “My brother spent a long time running, Eddie. I always thought he was just running away, but he was running toward something. The 118 is his family. But you and Chris are special. He would bleed himself dry if it meant keeping the two of you safe.”

Eddie’s fork is paused halfway to his mouth.

“Don’t take advantage of that,” Maddie says. “If you can’t say the same for him, you need to let him go. I’ve seen him hurt too many times, Eddie.” And she doesn’t mean just Abby—she means their parents. She watched Buck drag himself through hell for a love he shouldn’t have had to fight for. She means herself, too, because she knows that the years he spent thinking she’d chosen Doug over him had cut him deeper than she had any chance of healing. Even now that he knows the truth, there’s a scar.

“You’re a good sister.” Eddie lowers his fork and meets her eyes. “I wasn’t really expecting the shovel talk a week after getting shot, but I promise you that I feel the same.”

“Well, good,” she says. Then, “Oh god, I really did corner you while you’re—I apologize. That was thoughtless and rude of me.”

Eddie just laughs. “Please, Shannon was a wreck the whole first year. She actually forgot my birthday.”

“Oh, Chimney would never let that happen,” Maddie says, feeling a genuine, soft smile cross her face. This is the first time in a week she hasn’t felt the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. It’s an unexpected, but welcome, break. “He starts dropping hints at least three months in advance.”

“I wasn’t really around to remind her,” Eddie says. “That’s my biggest regret, really. Not being around more when Chris was little.”

Ah, there’s the familiar, soul-crushing weight of the world again. It was a nice minute, while it lasted. “It must have been hard to be away from him. I can’t even imagine…” Maddie swallows, but her food tastes sour, acrid. She can imagine. She has. She’s fantasized. About walking out the door. About not coming back.

“That’s the thing,” Eddie says, “it kind of... I mean, I missed him, and I missed Shannon. And now? I would rather get shot a thousand times than leave Chris. But at the time, it was easy. Ridiculously, insanely easy.”

Maddie watches as Eddie runs his hand through his hair, a twisted smile taking over his face. “What kind of fucking father chooses a war zone over his own wife and kid, you know? I kept telling myself it was for them, it was for us. But really I was just scared. I was terrified of it, of being a husband, a father. I didn’t know how to be those things.”

There’s something unfolding inside Maddie’s chest. An old hurt, an old fear, unraveling for her to finally grasp at its edges and see the bloody, wretched mess. “I don’t either,” she admits. She hasn’t said that to anyone. Not Buck, not Athena, not Josh. Certainly not her parents. Because that thing inside her, that little girl curled in on herself to hide away her broken heart—her parents had a lot to do with it. “I’m so scared. All the time. She’s tiny, and perfect, and I’m… I’m not good enough.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Eddie says.

“No,” Maddie says. “I’m going to ruin her, Eddie. I’m a horrible mother. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this.”

“Whoah, whoah.” Eddie reaches his hand across the table to grip hers, tight. Maddie raises her other hand to her face to wipe her eyes. “You’re doing great, Maddie. You’re really good with her.”

“No, I’m not. Not really. I mean, Buck is more of a natural at this than I am.” He’s in the living room, letting Jee-Yun chew on the collar of his shirt, while Chris is talking and gesturing wildly with his hands. Buck looks happy. He looks rapt, focused. All in.

“I don’t think anyone’s naturally a good parent. I think it’s supposed to be hard. That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”

“I just don’t want to hurt her,” Maddie says, watching Buck, watching Jee-Yun, watching Chris. This beautiful tableau of a family that she wants so desperately to be part of.

“That’s normal. That fear is… hell, Maddie. That’s parenthood.”

“How do you deal with it? How do you walk around with that, knowing… knowing any moment, you might fail?”

Eddie tightens his hold on her hand, pulls on it slightly to bring her focus back around to him. “I’m going to tell you something I told Buck a long time ago,” he says. “You’re going to make mistakes. It’s not like there’s some test you can study for and get the perfect kid at the end. What matters is that you love them enough to keep trying.”

Maddie remembers Buck, what feels like a lifetime ago, staring down their parents. Love me anyway, he’d said. “It’s that simple?” She asks, feeling hollow. Feeling like she failed before she even crossed the starting line.

“Of course not,” Eddie says. “It’s hard work, loving someone. But you’re not in it alone, either. You’ve got all of us.”

He’s right. Maybe she can put a little bit of the load down, once in a while. Maybe she doesn’t have to be crushed by all that weight.

“I’m sorry,” she says, cracking a smile, “all we’re doing is talking about me.”

“Trust me, it’s a relief,” Eddie says, smiling back. “All anyone wants me to do is talk about how I’m feeling. I’m sick of talking about myself.”

“It’s nice to know you’re not the only one with problems?”

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

They share a raw, honest smile, and Maddie does feel a little bit lighter. “I’ll be sure to come back for more sage advice,” she says, pulling her hand away.

“Next time, bring pizza,” Eddie says. It makes Maddie laugh.

When she gets home, she puts Jee-Yun to bed and looks at her. Just takes in that fragile nose, the impossibly delicate eyelids, her perfect, untidy mouth. She thinks about how she’s been scared her whole life—of upsetting her parents, of hurting Buck, of losing Doug, of leaving Doug, of finding love.

But all those fears, they brought her here. So maybe this is just another journey, and maybe it’s OK to be scared.

When Chimney gets home the next morning, he crawls into bed with Maddie and Jee-Yun. Their daughter had started fussing at three in the morning, and now they were both exhausted. But Maddie holds on tight, holds Jee-Yun close, and when Chimney wraps his arms around them and drops a kiss into her hair, Maddie hears him say, "my two best girls. How did I get so lucky?"

And she thinks, this. This can be enough.

#it's not perfect but I worked kind of really hard on this and I'm feeling some type of way so here you go #for anyone who wants to cry about Maddie #ray writes #madney #maddie buckley #how did this get so fucking LONG #long post

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magioftheseas · 4 years

Note

I don’t actually have a specific bingo square in mind, but what I’ve always wanted to see in komahina (or, like, any komaeda ship) would be komaeda dealing with trauma involving planes. It’s just an easy to exploit thing that I feel is underutilized. I guess an easy one would be Survivors Guilt?

Alright another one for the @badthingshappenbingo and cross-posted to Ao3 here.

It’s as short as the last one but I like to think it’s much sweeter.

Warnings: trauma and mental instability. Self-explanatory.

“...mae...da...! Komaeda!”

“Mm...?”

It was still dark out save for the bedside lamp they had, which was now illuminating Hinata’s stricken face.

“Hinata...kun?” Heavy with sleep and confusion, Komaeda squirmed and struggled to push himself up. With a yawn, he gently touched the other’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Aha, don’t tell me I kicked you.” He smiles easily, head lolling to the side in a tilt. “I’m sorry. You’re a kind person, so you’ll forgive me, right?”

“Komaeda.” Hinata’s expression remained grim, his tone urgent. Komaeda’s smile widens, yet he still flinched when Hinata grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. “You were having a nightmare.”

“So I did wake you?” He can’t help but laugh softly even as bile threatened to rise up his throat. “That’s really embarrassing.”

“You started crying.”

And to Komaeda’s dawning horror, Hinata’s fingers brushed against his cheek and came back damp.

“You were crying for your parents,” he clarified solemnly. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The words came before he even needed to think. Even someone as useless and wretched as him could get this right. “Oh, no, Hinata-kun. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bother you about something so insignificant as...”

Hinata covers his mouth. He cuts himself off immediately in response. Hinata grumbles at him, no surprise there, especially when he pulled his hand away as if burned.

He’s disgusted. From someone like mine, he’s definitely—

“Stop.” Hinata’s firm reprimand does get him to pause. Grimacing, Hinata added, “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not like that. It’s... It’s just urgh.” He trails off into an inelegant sputter. “Urgh.”

“Urgh,” Komaeda repeated with slight amusement. He watched with growing amusement as Hinata’s cheeks burned red and Hinata himself got so much more flustered, burying his face in his hands as he let out a beleaguered groan. Komaeda chuckled at this. “You don’t like it when I talk badly about myself, but you still react like this around me. You’re so funny, Hinata-kun.”

One might call it hypocritical, but... In reality, it’s because Hinata-kun’s so kind.

Hinata even flinches. How he wanted to soothe those worry lines on the other’s face.

He remembers how fearful his parents had been, too—

“Ah.” Komaeda swallowed, hearing his heart thump erratically in his ears. Had it been like this since he woke up? How troublesome. “I, um. I’m kind of thirsty. I think... I’m gonna go get a glass of water.”

“Yeah?” Hinata does turn to look at him, and he has a serious look of concentration. Honestly, under normal circumstances, Komaeda would’ve fawned over him but right now—he just wanted to get away.

He’s fortunate enough not to trip. Though, his stomach sinks when he hears Hinata rustling and padding after him.

“Me, too,” Hinata offered pretty lamely. “I’m thirsty, too.”

He pats Komaeda’s shoulder as he passes by, taking the initiative and fetching two glasses. Notably, he gets ice for one and forgoes it for the other. Knowing that Komaeda always preferred his drinks ice cold while Hinata preferred it a little lukewarm. Done without a word, because catering to him had just become routine to Hinata at this point.

I don’t...

“You’re white as a sheet,” Hinata said, setting the iced glass in front of him and feeling his forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What even is there to talk about...” The words slip before he can think. Komaeda just twists away, stricken. “I’ve become enough of a burden already.”

“You were dreaming about your parents,” Hinata said, making him stiffen. Hinata sipped at his own water coolly. “When I asked you out, I did consider the fact that you’ve been through a lot. It wasn’t a burden so much as a responsibility I took... Hell, I wanted you to rely on me long before that, too.” He takes another sip, and his cheeks are tinted red again. “When you asked to be friends, I wanted...that.”

Hahaha. He’s so cute. So cute it hurts.

“It’s silly,” Komaeda murmured, tracing the rim of the glass. The chill comforts him, because it had been so warm in the wreckage. Too warm. Actually, it had been so hot he thought he was scorching. When he was discovered, he almost died of dehydration...how funny was that? “I accepted my parents’ death years ago. To still have nightmares about it is... Ridiculous.”

I even have nightmares about my dog. Pathetic. And...

He dare not even think about what happened in despair.

“I shouldn’t have survived,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have survived that. I shouldn’t have survived the riots. I shouldn’t have survived the simulation. But I did. Because I have Ultimate Luck.”

“I shouldn’t have survived the Kamukura Project,” Hinata pointed out bluntly. “But I did. And you did. We both did, even when others didn’t. We’re alive and that’s...”

“A burden,” Komaeda said.

“Not a bad thing,” Hinata corrected, albeit awkwardly. “I’m...glad you’re still here.”

Haha. Hahahaha. Ahhh.

“I’m glad that you’re here, Hinata-kun.” How utterly ridiculous. Why was he now—? “D...Did you know? While in despair I... I would... I would sometimes watch videos. Videos upon videos of...aircraft vehicles...”

“Oh.” Hinata sighed, setting his cup aside. “Oh, Nagito.”

“Sometimes there’d be survivors,” he whispered, snuffling as he rubbed at his eyes. God, they stung. “But survivors usually got mauled soon after. At least Naegi-san’s sister...” He laughed weakly and pitifully before his breath caught. “I... I asked for those videos to be made... Those videos were...gifts...”

Hinata embraced him tightly and fiercely, squeezing him as he fell apart.

“I was so lonely. So, so, lonely. I never got to see Mama and Papa very often. I saw so many ads for island resorts. I thought, for my birthday, wouldn’t it be nice if we all...?” He wheezed, choking on a sob. “It was nice... It was such a beautiful, beautiful place that when it came time, I didn’t want to leave...”

“It’s okay,” Hinata murmured into his ear, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to carry this alone, Nagito.”

Hinata holds him, doesn’t even complain when his shoulder gets soaked through. Just keeps petting him and whispering gentle reassurances. What a wonderful idiot he is.

Komaeda hiccups when trying to laugh.

“I... If you die, too...”

“It’ll be hard,” is Hinata’s response, and it’s sardonic as it is kind. “One of Kamukura’s talents is Ultimate Survivor.”

Survivor...

Sniffling, Komaeda does peer over Hinata’s shoulder. Their shadows stretch out, entangled into one entity.

“Survive with me, then,” he found himself saying, gripping Hinata’s back. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Hinata Hajime didn’t hesitate for a second.

#Magi answers #anonymous #Magi fics #KomaHina #bad things happen bingo #bad things bingo

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onyourzeus · 3 years

Text

12:15 am | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: 12:15am pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: fluff, small caps words: 2.4k

author’s note: extra fic for tonight, just all around fluffy bf!yonk getting a call from his drunk s/o in the middle of the night. do enjoy.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

younghyun loves the grind. but if there’s anything else that he looks forward to during a hard and long day of working, it’s the feeling of coming home once he’s done. he makes sure to take off his shoes with as less noise as possible, knowing the fact that his roommates slash bandmates are enjoying their sleeping hours of peace and solitude.

with just a loose shirt and boxers on, he finally feels less restricted and more comfortable in his own skin. the urge to clean himself of sweat, and polluted air that had clung on him with a nice, hot shower is tempting— but the exhaustion in his heavy shoulders and drooping eyelids convince him otherwise.

he’ll hate himself for dirtying his sheets, but tomorrow is sunday which means it’s time to do his laundry, anyway.

tossing his used clothes in the hamper, he prepares his body to get swallowed by the softness of his comforter, and the warm void of his thick blankets. of course, before he passes out entirely tonight, he doesn’t forget to send you a text. the one important thing he shouldn’t miss out on.

really tired. gonna crash in 2 seconds. text you tmr, love you

usually, younghyun would wait until you respond because the many heart emojis that come his way act as his goodnight kiss while the two of you are apart. besides, you normally reply in an instant which is a habit he’s worried about, really, since you need some rest too.

he tries to fight the sleepiness away from his senses, but the more he sits on his bed, back hunched and ready to collapse, the less energy he has left to wait for your message. he frowns, suddenly wondering about your whereabouts. you always tell him first hand if you’re too busy to check your phone throughout the day, and younghyun appreciates the thoughtfulness. even if he couldn’t reply “okay” right away, the two of you have a shared sense of understanding as to how your kind of long distance relationship works by now.

sighing, he eventually puts his phone on the bedside table and plops himself in the covers. it feels really, really good to be in his own personal space now, and younghyun thinks he deserves to rest longer than normal tonight; it was a pretty productive day in the studio. he finished another collab with an artist he’s been meaning to contact for months, and he was glad it came to fruition with great success. he also managed to write a few arrangements for the band’s upcoming album, even if the group decided it was too early to work on it yet.

younghyun believes it’s never too early as long as inspiration is present. if he didn’t so much as write down possible lyrics or harmonies on a piece of paper every day, he’d slowly feel his motivation being sucked out of him. if he was being honest, that was one of his worst fears as an artist, so every day is work for him, it just depends on how much he wants to get done in a day.

as his thoughts fizzle out in his mind, his consciousness brings him to dreamland until a constant vibrating noise disrupts him from his end table. younghyun is about to pull the sheets over his head, thinking nothing of the sound but an annoying notification from something unimportant— but then he remembers you.

with his second guess being right, younghyun has a twinge of guilt in his throat for believing you were not worth it to get up from the coziness of his bed. rubbing his eyes to seem more awake, he picks up the call and greet you in a whisper.

“hi, baby, what’s up?” younghyun says, voice low and hoarse from multiple recordings in the studio.

“cheese,” you mumble on the other end, voice rather solid and awake which causes younghyun to perk up a bit.

“what was that?”

“cheeeeese, brian,” you slur, elongating the repeated word as well as saying it in a higher pitch. immediately, younghyun senses the somewhat incoherent mumble in your nevertheless pretty voice, and judging from the fact you unironically called him by his english name, there was only one explanation: you’re drunk.

he finds himself smiling as he answers, “are you home, babe?” he wasn’t angry about you drinking, he does remember you telling him a few days ago that you might go out with friends but you weren’t sure when. maybe tonight was the night and you just forgot to remind him; no big deal.

“i think so?” you hiccup, followed by a soft chuckle. younghyun’s heart soars at the sound, and it pains him at the same time that he couldn’t be there to hold and take care of you. he leans against the headboard, making himself more comfortable as he listens to you ramble on.

“all i know is that— burp— it was wendy’s birthday… or was it her cousin? cause she was there too, and i never met her before and— oh my god, i don’t even remember her name i’m such a bad new friend— whatever, anyway, it was someone’s celebration and we bar hopped to a lot of places and it became really sweaty and loud and at one point i had a flamingo shot in my hand and and—”

“hold up, flamingo? you mean flaming?” younghyun interjects, chuckling at your jumbled up story. he imagines you shaking your head as you whine at him for interrupting you. “no, nooooo. it was red and fiery and there was a lot of smoke and i’m sure it represented the beautiful, long-legged bird called flemings.”

this time, younghyun couldn’t stop himself from choking out a laugh, and in turn you huff from the other end, and refuse to continue further.

“i’m sorry, go on. please, i’m interested with what happened after you took this mysterious shot that starts with an f.”

“are you sure you won’t laugh?” he hears you quip in a tiny, slurring voice, and it his chest tightens at the thought of making you go through this drunken state alone. younghyun cards through his hair in frustration towards himself, realizing how much he misses you in the moment. he doesn’t want you to stop talking, god if he can only see your lips move in person—

“i promise, babe. so, what happened next?”

“if you say so,” you mutter indignantly, but proceed with the story even though you’re unsure of where it’s going. “um, actually. that was it. i think i took everyone’s flamingo shots in their hands and next thing i remember, wendy or her cousin or whoever it was tucked me in bed and now i’m in the kitchen eating cheese.”

the string of words you had uttered made younghyun feel three emotions in succession: one, impressed that you were able to down more than one shot while he’s not there to monitor you; two, relieved that you confirmed your safety inside your apartment; and three, plain confusion as to why you didn’t stay in bed and instead, eating what you say is cheese while on the call with him.

“can we turn on the videocall?” he asks gently, and you hesitate.

“i don’t look cute right now…”

“you’re always cute. please?” he tries to sound convincing, knowing that you do get insecure when your face is flushed red from the alcohol. even still, he doesn’t tire from complimenting you otherwise.

“okay,” you relent, and younghyun’s heart skips a beat anticipating the sight of you on his phone. he turns on his camera, and he’s appalled at what he sees: daar under eyes, no make up on, and a face that describes weariness to a T. in this case, it should be him who feels insecure looking the way he is, but he’d take the risk if it meant seeing your face.

“hello? is this thing on??” after a few seconds of lag, your screen cleared up and younghyun watches you poke the camera repeatedly. “bri, it’s so dark in here am i even alive right now?”

you never fail to lift his mood up during an exhausting day of activities— as your schedules collide against each other, and there would be less time for moments like right now, younghyun only asks for a few texts sent his way as reassurance that you’re still with him. you always comply, and sometimes younghyun doesn’t get to uphold his side of the commitment during the rare days that he just want to shut off the world.

still, he’ll wake up from a text with your name on it, and the hearts he missed the night before. and he feels whole, and ready to take on the world again.

so this time, younghyun wants to make you feel heard— and seen, as these days work seems to occupy more of his time and burden him with the pressure of exceeding his own expectations. you don’t like seeing him worry about how he’s doing in the industry, so younghyun does his best to appear cheerful and curious in front of you— or his phone, at least.

“yes, you’re very much alive right now, babe. are you really eating cheese at this hour?” he shouldn’t have asked. it was obvious the thing in your hand was, in fact, string cheese being eaten in the most ungodly fashion, but it’s you— and younghyun would rather watch you bite into it, cringing inwardly, instead of passing out with another day longing for your presence.

“let’s eat cheese together,” you suggest, shoving the half-bitten string cheese into the center of the camera as if it was a mic being handed over to younghyun. “do you want to eat cheese with me, bri?” you ask again, tone small but hopeful. you put your hand down, and younghyun finally has a full view of your face.

you had taken your makeup off, judging from the bare skin and slightly smeared lipstick on the side of your lips. your hair was splayed out down your shoulders, a combination of curly and straight strands framing your beautiful face. he surmises you used a curling iron this morning, imagining the frustration on your facial features as you try to make it work.

“briannnn, cheese?”

younghyun focuses on the present, and he notices the glimmer in your eyes amidst the only light coming on your end was his screen’s brightness. he shakes his head slowly which causes you to pout.

“no thank you, baby, you can have it all.”

“but i saved some for you, right here. you get the other half. just like you’re my other half. hehe, get it?”

“yes, baby, that’s very sweet and clever of you.”

“you should hire me as your lyrics… manager. maker? lyrics person? lyricist!” you grin widely after figuring out the right term, and take another bite off the string cheese.

“i think you’re doing a great job at being my girlfriend, though,” younghyun tells you, and it takes a few seconds for those words to process until he hears the eventual whine, and covering of your face with your free hand.

“babe.” no response.

“baaabe.” you mumble something he couldn’t hear. younghyun takes in how adorable you are, and doesn’t pester you for a minute. this bothers you, apparently, as you peek through your fingers and catch him doing one of his silly faces that corners you to laugh abruptly.

“not fair!! you know that works every time,” you whine in defeat, and younghyun can only smile proudly in response.

“you know,” you start off, and younghyun prepares himself for another stream of consciousness on your end before you continue, “even if we’re far away from each other, and that we can’t eat cheese together, you’re still the best boyfriend in the entire galaxy.”

if there’s anything else that younghyun loves apart from the feeling of coming home after work, it’s the feeling of being loved by you.

he waits for you to finish your string cheese, and you argue that you’d like to eat another one. but it was getting late, and younghyun didn’t want to look even more tired on call, so he urges that you two fall asleep while the call goes on.

as he wiggles back inside the covers, he watches you struggle to get your whole body in the comfort of your blanket. his hand holds on the phone as he readies himself to sleep sideways.

“stupid blanket,” you mutter in annoyance, deciding to take one leg out of the warm sheets and at last, feel content on your bed.”that’s better,” you sigh, eyes falling asleep before younghyun.

“comfortable?”

“not really.”

“oh, why not?” younghyun asks.

“you’re not here beside me.” and your answer breaks his heart.

younghyun is pretty good at consoling you with his words at times when you need it, but you beat him to it this time.

“it’s okay though, younghyun, i can get by like this for now. i know—” you yawn in between, “you’re working super hard for the next comeback— actually, you work no matter what project you’re doing, babe. you’re insane, i hope you know that.”

it was younghyun’s turn to blush, and hide his face in the pillow. the drowsiness is making him soft, and weak from denying the truth in your words. he can definitely agree with a lot of people in his life that he needs to take it slow some days. and when it comes from you, he then knows to take that advice seriously.

“i do know that, baby.”

“it’s not bad, though!!” you object, zooming in to your eyes as if to let him know you’re saying it as a good thing. younghyun chuckles again, lifting his face up so he can witness your goofy antics once more.

“i think it’s… really badass. you go younghyun,” you yawn again, dropping the phone as sleep attempts to befall upon you. “sorry, my hand was getting numb.”

“that’s okay, go to sleep now.”

“no, you.”

“that’s literally what we’re trying to do, babe.”

he hears you snicker, and with that he felt it was okay to lay his phone next to him, too. he probably wouldn’t see your face in the morning on the call anymore as his phone wasn’t fully charged at all. however, as he hears you quietly snoring on the other end gives him a sense of security, and the status of his dead phone battery doesn’t matter so much for now.

“i love you,” he whispers into the night, eyes closing in, smile taking him to dreams where he can hold you tight.

“love you more, younghyun.”

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #day6 x reader #young k imagines #young k scenarios #young k x reader #young k au #brian kang imagines #brian kang scenarios #kang younghyun imagines #kang younghyun scenarios #by:jiae

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omniswords · 4 years

Text

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 8

now that La Joconde is over, i can give a lot more attention back to Chronicles. i know we’ve been wicked overdue for an update, so thank you so so so much for being patient with me as i’ve been working through it. i really hope you like today’s update, and that you can give it a reblog if you enjoyed it so other people can too 💙🎶💖

boy i sure hope these orders didn’t have one of those “send your cutest delivery boy” requests

i mean, on the one hand, i’m flattered and my boss is absolutely right

but the things you do for Bread, smh.

It was bound to happen, Luka keeps telling himself as he loads up his bike, and as he straps on his helmet, and as he rides over bridges and through busy streets to get his work done. His stomach’s been turning ever since he checked the delivery tickets, and every anxious feeling’s been flitting under his skin, and it was only a matter of time before he’d have to make a delivery to Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s literal, actual, entire house.

(Well. It didn’t actually have one of those “send your cutest delivery boy” requests. But it did ask for him by name. And he’s barely been able to keep still, with his name in her voice buzzing in his head, ever since.)

The other households don’t do much to ease his mind. At best, the rides and the thirty-second interactions numb him, but only for a short moment. Every time he mounts his bike again and pedals away, he’s reminded that he’s one step closer to her place.

It shouldn’t even get to him as much as it does. He’s been doing this job for ages now, in spite of what little upward mobility there is. It gets the bills paid, and he’s good enough at what he does that the place gives him steady hours, and admittedly, it’s nice to peek into the lives of strangers for all thirty of those seconds. The birthday party he’s accidentally interrupted, where he’s suddenly hailed as a hero because he’s got pizza. The post-breakup night in, where a guy he’s never even met sounds like the screeching drag of a bow across a violin bridge. The family who’s too tired to cook because the mother has cancer and the father’s tired of barley soup and pasta and the daughter, who’s still living with her parents in her late twenties because she has to, only just got home from a bit of overtime.

(Most of these are just fancies, of course. He’ll be the first to admit he lets his imagination run away with him sometimes. But he’ll also be the first to say that someone in the world must be living like that. To someone in the world, that has to be real.)

Besides. He’s been to the bakery plenty of times before, knows well enough that the Dupain-Cheng family lives just above it, which is just about as fanciful as he’d expected. He’s spoken to Marinette a handful of times. He’s been on the business end of her witty words, wherever she got them from. Hell, he even gave her the note.

It’s just that… that’s the bakery. Not her house.

He’s never peeked into her story. Never even thought beyond what she’s allowed him to have. And he knows that whatever he sees will be real.

Luka’s mostly running on auto-pilot by the time he makes it to Tom and Sabine’s, and part of him has to wonder if it’s because he’s been at this job for too long, or if he’s been to the bakery too many times for his own good. (Honestly, he’d wager it’s a bit of both.) The bakery is closed for now, so he texts the number on the ticket—maybe Mr. Dupain’s, maybe Marinette’s.

He’s never texted her before. He doesn’t even have her number.

Should he ask for her number?

Would she even want his? Or would she feel like the creep because he’s the one on the clock?

Before he can ask himself any more questions, the light to the bakery turns on, and the front door opens, and the tinkling of the bell grabs his attention. And there’s Marinette, in a camisole and heart-patterned sleep shorts and slippers. And there’s black, and there’s a little lace right on the neckline, and—

And he’s staring.

And she’s starting to blush.

He tries his best to cock his brow, and holds up the delivery box. “You rang?”

God, he wishes that could have come out smoother.

At least Marinette laughs. Even if it might have just been a pity laugh. “Papa,” she says, trading the box and the paper bag for a few bills. “I guess he knew you worked there or something. He, uh… suggested. Very… very firmly. That we order from this place, once he found out we were considering it.”

“We?”

A whistle interrupts them, soft and low and sounding halfway impressed. Luka catches the glint of glasses and a flash of reddish hair as Marinette whips around and hisses, “Would you go upstairs? You’re supposed to be picking a movie!”

“Are you kidding? This is the movie!” The redhead, whoever they are, calls out, but the sound of footsteps receding tells him it isn’t long before they’re in the clear again. Just the two of them, caught in an interaction that probably should have already ended. And he’s stuck wondering if she doesn’t want it to end, either—because maybe they’re not quite in the clear, or at least, she isn’t yet. She’s got a whole best friend upstairs, probably waiting to grill her on every little detail.

(Every little detail of what? It’s just him…)

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she turns back to him. “Sorry. Best friends, right?”

Luka manages a shrug and a weak laugh of his own. He doesn’t much feel like talking about how his best friends are his literal blood and the thing almost constantly strapped to his back. And that most of the people who approximate friendship are on the other side of a screen and will probably never see him in real life, whatever that is. “How long have you known her?”

“Long time. Since she moved here from Martinique. We were basically attached at the hip in like, middle school.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot; to Luka, it doesn’t go unnoticed. “It’s hard for us to meet up anymore—travel journalism, studying abroad, all that stuff. We only really get to FaceTime these days. Other than that… it has its hiccups here and there, but I love her. You know? And sometimes she can be a little, uh… overzealous? In what she does?”

“I heard that!” a voice comes from the stairwell.

Marinette doesn’t even have to turn and glare for the rest of the footsteps to fall away. “Sorry,” she mumbles again. “You didn’t exactly come here to hear chunks of my life story, did you.”

“I don’t mind your life story,” he says, thumbing through the bills to count them. “With a job like this, I get to carry a little bit of everybody with me, and hearing about your best friend beats the eightieth guy trying to tell me about his divorce and how women are just trying to suck us dry.” Then his brow furrows, in spite of his own sarcasm, and he looks up. “You gave me extra. Like, way extra.”

“Oh, uh…” Marinette laughs nervously. “Yeah, I guess that’s a habit I picked up. Tipping is a thing in the States. People think you’re a jerk if you don’t do it, so my brain sort of… went on autopilot.” She rubs the back of her neck, maybe out of modesty, and Luka can’t tell if it’s because of the amount of money she gave him, or because of the experiences she’s had.

“Well…” He counts out the extra bills. “Here, you should take these back, then—”

“No, no.” She shakes her head, gestures as if to push the money back towards him. “Don’t worry about it. Keep it.”

“As what? A souvenir from New York?”

Marinette grins. It’s slow, and lazy, and it might make his heart thud in his chest at a hundred kilometers an hour, and he’s definitely thinking, don’t look at the lace, do NOT look at the lace. “Think of it as me making up for all the times I could’ve let you have a napoleon on the house, but didn’t.”

Luka blinks at her a couple of times. More than a couple of times. Too many words are bubbling in his throat and behind his teeth, desperate to get out, but his brain can’t catch up with any of them, and he doesn’t even know what order to put them in besides. Part of him wants to figure out something smooth to say, part of him wants to laugh like an idiot and thank her, and part of him wants to take the worst leap possible and ask what she’s doing on Saturday. But before he can prioritize any of them and put his dignity even more at risk, a holler comes from upstairs—”Marinette!”—and he jolts back in attention. He crumples the money in his fists and swallows his heart back down into his chest, and if he looks closely, Marinette’s cheeks are turning bright red, and her teeth are sinking into her lip as if… holding something back.

“I better go,” she says, nodding toward the stairs and taking a step back. She’s standing on the sides of her feet, and it’s honestly adorable. “Keep the change. I mean it, okay?”

Luka wants to protest—wants to say something about how his mother always told him never to take a single euro he didn’t honestly work for. Instead, he crumples the money in his fist, nods dumbly, and pockets it. “Hey,” he says, just as he senses she’s about to turn on her heel and speedwalk back up the stairs.

Marinette looks at him, and in the moment he gets that bubbling-word feeling in the back of his throat again. At least the mortifying thought of asking her out has died down, but it’s been replaced with something worse: the reminder that, for some reason, she and his sister know each other. Is it weird? he wants to ask. Are you sure it’s not weird seeing me? Is there something going on? Did Jules do something to you? Did you do something to her? Are you mad that I didn’t say anything? Are you okay?

Are you okay, Marinette?

Instead, he clears the words out of his throat, and shakes his head, and he hopes Marinette isn’t running a million worst-case scenarios in her head the way he does when someone looks or sounds even mildly displeased. He hopes she isn’t blaming herself the way he does when someone looks like they have something to tell him and then… don’t. “Next time I swing by,” he says, “will that napoleon be on the house?”

Her expression doesn’t take very long to go soft, even though her grip on the delivery box tightens. “Who knows?” she murmurs, and it’s… strange, how the tongue-in-cheek traces in her voice comfort him more than they put him on edge. “Guess you’ll just have to come back and find out.”

Then she turns on her heel, nearly bumps into the counter on her way to the stairs, and—and she really does spare him one more glance, the kind that says she’d wave good night if her hands weren’t full. Without much thinking, he does the waving for both of them, with a smile he knows is nervous and crooked spreading across his face. And then he’s the one to bump backwards into the door, the bell above giggling and announcing his clumsiness, before he stumbles to his bike and speeds away. He knows better than to text and bike, even if he could brag that sometimes he’s halfway decent at it, but at least he waits until he gets to the Canal Saint-Martin so he can have that silent-screaming moment alone.

so not only did I get that bread today, i got a whole fuckin sandwich. if we’re going by that whole metaphor i mean.

speaking of figurative language, you know, that thing i never thought i’d use once i graduated from high school… dear CBG: when i told you i hope you found all that money on the ground, i didn’t mean GIVE IT TO ME.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #hey i'm thriving #please enjoy and drop a reblog if you can <3

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