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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

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Eddie’s eyes are brown.

At least, that’s what Steve would’ve said before staring into his eyes for…ten seconds? Thirty seconds? Five minutes? … he’s lost track of time.

But the time is certainly not wasted.

Steve’s not sure how he’s never noticed that brown eyes aren’t just brown. It’s a silly thought, and he knows that he should probably know this considering he also has brown eyes, but maybe he’s been too focused on his hair. And maybe he’s been a little too focused on Eddie’s lips…

He fights to glance down at them as Eddie stares back at him, his pupils blown wide, but every now and then when he leans a little to the side, the sunlight from the windows hits his eyes just right and his pupils contract, showing off all the color in his eyes. And Steve loves when this happens.

The brown turns into an almost amber color, deep brown highlighted by hints of warm red and orange. And at the bottom of his eyes, there’s small patches of gold standing out against the deep brown ring that circles the whole iris.

Steve thinks he could get lost in it all and stare for hours.

He leans in a little closer, trying to see more of that gold, and nearly groaning when Eddie shifts away from the light again, eyes becoming such a deep brown that Steve can easily see his reflection.

But he doesn’t want to see himself, he wants to see how that dark chocolate turns into that gold and red in the sunlight.

Then, something Steve didn’t fathom happens.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“Steve won!” Dustin shouts, as the other kids carry on loudly, and Steve is harshly startled back into reality.

A staring contest. That’s what this was supposed to be. A staring contest, not a Steve gets lost in his friend’s eyes for so long that he forgets to blink contest. Christ.

He glances sheepishly at Eddie and takes in all his features, the furrowed brow and the slight frown to his lips as Eddie tugs at a stand of hair.

As the kids file out of the room, moving onto whatever activity is going to keep them entertained next, Steve asks, “Are you that upset about losing?”

Eddie shakes his head and leans forward, staring into Steve’s eyes again. Steve fights not to look too deeply, afraid he’ll get lost in the depths forever if he gives himself the chance.

“I saw something I hadn’t seen before,” Eddie comments, looking back and forth between his two eyes.

“I did too,” Steve admits, allowing himself to stare a bit. He reaches out and pulls Eddie closer to him, getting both his eyes directly in the sunlight. “I see a whiskey my dad used to always keep on his desk, with hints of gold that reminds me of the jewelry my dad got for my mom, back when they still loved each other.”

His heart pounds at the memories, back to a time when things almost seemed normal. When he thought he would always be happy.

Steve shakes his head and glances away, unsure of how the colors he saw before could bring up the deep memories he spewed to Eddie. He changes the subject and asks, “What did you see in mine?”

He expects maybe an analysis of green and brown, or hazel as many girls tell him after staring at him for long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He wonders why Eddie doesn’t make him feel that way.

A finger lifts Steve’s chin, turning his gaze back to Eddie whose stare sends chills down his spines. “I saw longing,” Eddie states and continues, “Was it for those things? Those memories?”

Steve finds himself shaking his head as his eyes glance down to Eddie’s lips which twitch as he swallows. “Was it longing?” Eddie asks, nervousness seeping into his tone.

Steve glances back at his eyes and nods. It’s not like he’s unaware of his deeper feelings for Eddie, but he didn’t expect to fall so hard in just a few moments as he stared into his eyes. And he definitely didn’t expect to have those emotions read so clearly in his own eyes.

Eddie’s hand slowly moves to cup Steve’s face as he says, “Steve, read my own eyes for a moment. Please see the-”

“Can you guys give us a ride to the arcade?!” Dustin yells from the other room.

Steve sees Eddie’s eyes flash with annoyance which is much different from the loving expression from before.

Loving.

Steve takes a deep breath and steps back as he hears multiple footsteps hurriedly making their way back to the kitchen.

“Did you hear us?” Mike asks, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, “Get to the car.”

He lingers back with Eddie as he watches all the kids run to his car, and when Steve gets to the door with Eddie behind him, he yells, “Give me a minute, I need to grab my wallet!”

He closes the door quickly and rushes into Eddie’s space, cupping his face, and asking, “Am I reading this wrong?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says, hope and deep longing shining in his eyes.

“Good,” Steve says, leaning forward and meeting Eddie in the middle as they hurriedly kiss, pouring in all the longing they’ve both experienced for months now but were too oblivious to see before.

(Robin laughs for minutes on end when she hears that a staring contest is what got them together when they’ve been having multiple for months without the label. Steve just rolls his eyes, but as soon as Eddie asks, “Want to have another staring contest?” He can’t resist.)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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cartoonfan21 · 4 months ago

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💀The Multiverse Pines Twins Bad End💀

Gnome Queen Mabel (In this timeline, Mabel accepted to become the gnomes new queen. She never had the chance to meet Waddles, Mermando, Candy, and Grenda.)

The Wet Pines Twins (During their hunt for the "Gobblewonker" who was actually Old Man Mcgucket, they drowned while escaping from him.)

The Wax Figures Pines (If the wax figures didn't kill the Pines Twins, but instead turn them into wax figures too.)

Impaled Dipper (If Mabel didn't come in time to find Gideon about impale her brother.)

Smile Dip Mabel / Possessed Mabel (Apparently in this timeline, Mabel died of an overdose from eating too much expired Smile Dip. Which eventually led the ghosts of Ma and Pa Duskerton to control her body.)

Tyrone Pines (Probably Tyrone's ghost returning to threaten Dipper's family and friends to make Dipper comply🤔)

Erased From Existence Pines (By using the Time Tape too many times it caused them to be erased from existence.)

16 - Bits Pixels Dipper (If Dipper actually succeeded in defeating Rumble McSkirmish, he'd be the one suck back into the arcade game. )

Pocket Sized Dipper & Mabel (If Gideon accomplished in capturing Mini Dipper and Mabel.)

Digested Pines Twins (If the Summerween Trickster ate Dipper and Mabel.)

Frozen In Amber Pines Twins (If the twins didn't save Waddles in time or....)

The Zombie Pines Twins (If Dipper and Mabel didn't get away from the zombies in time! Or if Stan didn't save them in time.)

Bipper and Lost Dipper (If Bill succeeded in destroying the journal, he could've made Dipper's body died by suicide! Which could've made Dipper lost in the astral plane for eternity!)

MaBill "Mabel & Bill" (If Mabel actually gave the journal to Bipper, she could've become super depressed, blaming herself for her brother taking drastic measures! Which could've allowed Bill to manipulate her!)

The Blind Eye Pines Twins (If Blind Ivan succeded in erasing the teams memories of their summer, they could've joined the Blind Eye Society.)

Wood Dipper (If Pacifica didn't pull the lever and allowed the townspeople into the mansion's party. The ghost of Archibald could've burned Dipper, Mabel, Pacifica, and everyone else in the mansion!)

The Statue Pines Twins (If Bill captured the Pines Twins he could've killed them way faster and use them as toys to bribe Ford.)

#I didn't think there were different ways #that could have died so easily #imagine how devastated Stan in those timelines were #when his grand niece and nephew died #and how was he gonna explain it to their parents?!?!?#so many fanfics!!!!#long post #headcanon #journal three #journal 3 #the book of bill #tbob #bad end friends #dipper pines #mason pines #mabel pines #gravity falls #spoilers

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nana-luvy · 11 days ago

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. 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 .

based off unaware - south arcade

part 2

warnings: fluff, intended claimed!fem!reader, mostly description

In which unfinished words carried too much weight.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You couldn’t help the way it replayed in your mind, over and over again, the sound of his voice crowding your mind, the way your name had rolled off his tongue as he ran a hand in his already messy curls in unconcealed nervousness…

That night, you’d been invited to some sort of small gathering your friends had planned on the beach, a bonfire crackling on the sand as you arrived with Clarisse just before the sun set. Covers had been laid out on the sand, you two had brought pillows to make the place more comfortable, and the few sons of Hermes there had brought whatever left contraband they’d smuggled into camp last. The place was just the cozy place to be.

You’d spent most of the evening chatting away, playing stupid drinking games and sharing loud fits of laughter at everybody’s antics, and, quickly, two hours at already passed. But if you had to be honest, you’d also mention that a significant part of those two hours you’d spent looking Luke’s way, watching how the warm light of the fire reflected on his face, on his side profile, how the cast shadows highlighted the sharpness of his jaw, the piercing amber of his eyes, the apparent softness of his curls you just wanted to run your hand through…If you had to be honest, you’d mention that his presence was one of the reasons you had come that night in the first place, knowing he’d be there too.

Because, as much as you were okay with just being a face in the background of his life, you also knew you longed for more, even more in moments like this, where he sat almost right in front of you across the small bonfire, your eyes catching his from time to time, his catching yours when you stared for too long. And you couldn’t help but wonder how it must be to be sitting in Chris’ place, right next to him, chatting away like you two rarely did.

You were mostly one among the others in the boy’s life, talking sometimes during training sessions, or when you ended up coincidentally next to each other in a crowd, but nothing much more. You weren’t one he’d go out of his way to talk to, and you’d come to terms with it. But one line turned it all upside down.

You all had started to run out of a few things, the bowls of snacks emptying and bottles of multiples drinks running dry, the air getting more chilly as the night reached its peak, and a few had offered to go search for the missing things. So now there you were, sitting awkwardly on the cover, hugging a pillow to try and stop your fidgeting when the only other person also there was Luke, staring up at the beautifully lit sky, stars shining in every corner with little to no clouds blocking the view. But the only view you were admiring in the end was him, leaning back on his arms behind his back, legs crossed over his own cover, his head thrown back to look up and exposing the perfect lines of his neck, your gaze running up to his jaw, the lines of his face…

”It’s beautiful, isn’t it ?”

You snapped back to reality at the sound of his voice. “Uh, what ?”

“The sky, isn’t it just mesmerizing ?” he asked again, his voice like a soft caress to your ears, every sentence sounding so euphonious when it came from him.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, so pretty…” you whispered back, looking up to the blinking stars too, though you couldn’t help the few times your eyes wandered back to him.

The curly haired boy broke the silence again after a little pause. “Do you have a favorite constellation, y/n ?”

“Hmm…” You thought about it for a second, not wanting to appear too nerdy in front of him, nor totally shallow. “I’d say Ursa Minor, probably ?”

“Yeah ?”

Butterflies went flying in your stomachs at the simple word, the raspy tone, the slight drag… you almost felt weak. “Yeah… I mean, it’s always there, easy to find and recognizable, always protected by Major in a sense… I don’t know, she feels comforting, she feels she’d understand me…” You mentally face-palmed. ‘Fuck you mean, she ? It’s a constellation, what are you gonna look like, dear gods…’

There was another silence, a longer one this time, and this time you stared up at the sky without getting distracted, training your eyes to the Little Bear as you felt the light blush warming your cheeks. You couldn’t find the strength to break the silence, and would've been relieved when he did if he didn’t say what he said.

“I think…” he started, marking a beat with a deep sigh, running his finger through his curls. “I got this thing I need to get off my chest, I-”

“Hey, back with bottles and more plaids!” Travis exclaimed, cutting the other Hermes boy off as he emerged from the thick foliage that separated this part of the beach from camp, and completely unaware of how he’d interrupted a moment that left your heart racing. “What are we doing ? Stargazing session ?”

You couldn’t see Luke’s face as he still stared up, the way his eyes moving frantically from one star to another in frustration after he’d been cut off. You forced yourself to talk when he didn’t answer the question, confused as to why. Maybe he was just so absorbed in the sky ? You’d never taken him for one to be interested in astronomy.

“Something like that, yeah…”

You’d quickly went to bed after that, too confused to concentrate on whatever game the others wanted to play, and it was now the afternoon, two days later, your head still that much of a mess. You put your face in your pillow on the top bunk, thinking the muffled screaming session would relieve your nerves in the littlest, but all it brought you was an earful from your counselor, and no peacefulness whatsoever.

How could those short, unfinished words could carry so much weight to you ? It didn’t make sense, or rather, it shouldn’t make sense, because you had convinced yourself you’d get over it, the whole feeling thing. But you knew deep down you couldn’t: being in the background was one thing, dropping all hope was another. And now he’d made his way to the front of your head, not letting you think of anything else for hours on end, making your dreams restless with the thought of what might’ve happened.

Yet at the same time, nothing had happened since, not a step of his in your direction, not a glance your way in the dining pavilion, not a shared practice in the training area, and you were left with memories of the scene, your heart longing to relive the moment until it would burst. And you were left there, in your bed, wondering how you’d gotten here, knowing it wouldn’t happen anymore, whatever had been.

The next day, you couldn’t take it anymore. So you walked to the Hermes cabin, sticky notes and pen in hand when you knew the building would be empty because of the upcoming ‘Capture the Flag’ game in preparation. You had very little concept of a plan, you just knew you had to get it out of your chest somehow before it ate up your sleep and your sanity both. Because you couldn’t find a way to forget it, wondering for hours on end what might’ve happened if his friends hadn’t walked in on the conversation, what might’ve happened if he’d continued his sentence instead of cutting it short at the distraction.

Because now it was weird, seeing him around camp, busying himself with his head counselor tasks, not sparing a glance your way when your eyes couldn’t help but follow him, all but burning a hole at the back of his head trying to figure all that he could’ve said instead of staying mute, looking up at the stars. It was weird because whatever you would’ve ever considered yourself in his life, an acquaintance, a friend, a simple friend of a friend… all of that was thrown away in a split sentence, a string of unfinished word that made you even question if you could act as if nothing happened, stay good friends like the moment never occurred.

By now, you’d easily sneaked into the painted-brown cabin, quickly identifying Luke’s bed from the shoe-box under the mattress, MAYA written on the side, as you knew it to be one of his most prized possession, and finally made a stop. You’d reached your destination, but had little to no idea of what to do now, starting to regret sneaking in with just sticky notes to write on and not some kind of…already read-through and thoroughly composed letter. But it’s not like you had much time to think about it anyway, so you started writing.

Hey, I was wondering what

‘Nope, scratch that,’ you thought, crumpling the pink note in your fist to a tight ball, putting it in your pocket and taking a new one.

Hey, well, I was thinking back of the last night, and I was thinking that you never actually finished your sentence, and i haven’t really had a chance to talk to you since, not that i would’ve seized he opportunity but

You scrapped the piece of paper again, frustratingly tearing it in half when you realized pouring the whole content of your mind on a piece of paper was neither space-ly possible, nor a smart move. So you shoved it in your pocket again, taking a new untouched sticky note.

Hey

‘Well yeah, that could be a good start,’ you thought, moving to stick it on the inside of his bunk, where no one could see it without laying on the mattress, and hoping no one else would.

So, i’m probably gonna regret this whole note thing once i finally get some sleep, but

I wanted to tell you

You never got to finish what you were trying to say

- And it is all kinda starting to get to

But just as you were about to finish writing another one to stick for Luke to see, you unexpectedly heard noise coming from right outside the door, footsteps and chatter on the other side and in your urgency, you rushed whatever you were writing, simply crossing out what you’d started writing on the note still in your hand, adding two words next to it.

Forget it

Unfortunately, your pen slide out from your clammy hands as you tried to put the cap back on, but the steps were obviously right outside the door and time was running away from you.

You just had time to stick the note in with the others before the door opened and you had to act like nothing happened, passing by a couple of campers who threw you confused looks but nothing more, while you made your way out. Once you finally stepped back on the grass and pebbles of the ground, you released a breath you didn’t even know you held, quickly going back to your cabin and climbing on your bed, rolling around on the mattress in frustration. What was he supposed to get from those notes, now ? You’d written them in a rush, half of it probably indecipherable, stacked on top of each other in a broken speech you couldn’t exactly fix anymore, the sense barely even clear with the final ‘Forget it’ to top it off. But you couldn’t help your feet kicking the air either, feeling that you’d made a step in the right directions, somehow.

The relief took over you, your mind growing a little quieter, and you soon found yourself dozing off, completely letting go of the idea of participating in the day’s Capture the Flag. But as your eyes closed on their own, among the relief and the flutters in your stomach, it also dawned on you how stupid and remorseful you’d feel from your thoughtless, impulsive action.

Do we want a part 2? The fic is based off a song (unaware - south arcade, go listen to it rn.) and the lyrics kinda stop to this point, so i was contemplating whether or not to continue.. you tell me ~

Love, Nana -

#nana's mind ━☆#luke castellan imagine #imagine #luke castellan x reader #pjo series #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell #fanfiction #lukecastellan #luke castellan

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cera-writes · 7 months ago

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First Impressions - A Kurt Wagner x gn!reader one-shot

Summary: You first met Kurt at the Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The first time you laid eyes on the blue elf, you were smitten. Fast forward to the 90s and you and Kurt meet again under much different circumstances. tags: fluff, coming of age, mutual pining

The Bavarian sun, a pale orb veiled by a dusty scrim, cast a sickly yellow glow upon Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The peeling paint on the rickety wooden sign promised wonders, but the air itself held a different story. It reeked of damp straw and the acrid tang of manure, a far cry from the anticipated scent of popcorn and sugared treats. Disappointment gnawed at you, a shadow settling over your heart despite your parents' enthusiastic promises.

Your parents had dragged you along on this trip. It was your summer vacation and apparently you were there to also stay with distant relatives. But you knew your parents were in it just for the free stay and a vacation away from the States. Out of all the touristy things your parents could have picked for you to do, they chose a musty, worn down circus. Honestly, you were ready to be back in America with your friends at the arcade or skating rink. This wasn't how you imagined you'd spend your summer at all.

"C'mon darling. The show is about to start!" Your mother ushered you inside the tent as the ticket master tore your ticket stubs in half as your father followed close behind.

Inside, the spectacle was every bit as underwhelming as the exterior. The big cats, once proud denizens of the savanna, paced restlessly in cramped cages, their magnificent coats dull with neglect. Their amber eyes, once fierce and watchful, were now clouded with resignation. The stench of their confinement hung heavy in the air, a stark counterpoint to the vibrant posters plastered precariously on the weathered orange and red canvas walls. You took a seat in the rafters for the best view, if you even could call it that.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled to life, the announcer's voice a tired rasp battling with static. "Presenting," he declared, his voice tinged with a hint of forced excitement, "our opening act of the night, the Mystifying Nightcrawler!" A spotlight pierced the gloom, bathing the center ring in a harsh white light. From the shadows emerged a figure unlike any you had ever seen. Your eyes widened. Was he- was he really a mutant? You had never seen one in person. He was absolutely beautiful.

"It's him..." you mother sneered. Your parents however, held gazes of contempt and disgust towards Nightcrawler, and any other mutant for that matter. You tuned out their nasty whispers and just focused on the boy standing at the platform.

He was clad in a costume that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, a deep cobalt blue that seemed to drink in the stark light. A mask, sculpted from some unknown material, obscured his face, but a shock of blue black hair, as vibrant as a summer sky after a downpour, peeked out from beneath it. It was a stark contrast to the peeling paint and sun-bleached canvas that surrounded him.

Then, he moved. There was an effortless grace to his every action, as if defying the earth's very pull. He launched himself from a platform hidden in the shadows, his form a blur of blue and black against the harsh white backdrop. He wasn't just swinging; he was dancing, his body twisting and turning with an impossible fluidity. Every leap, every flip spoke volumes of preternatural strength and agility. He was a silent symphony in motion, an enigma wrapped in cobalt and shadow.

But it was more than just his skill that captivated you. There was an aura about him, an undeniable magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was a mystery that whispered promises of adventure and a world hidden just beyond the confines of the dusty circus tent. With each breathtaking leap, with every impossible maneuver, a spark ignited within you, a yearning for something more, something extraordinary.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze seemed to find yours through the harsh glare of the spotlight. A jolt of electricity shot through you, a connection forged in that shared glance. Then, with a flourish that echoed the fading magic of the moment, he vanished back into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of shimmering blue and the lingering echo of wonder in your heart.

The rest of the night was a blur. The other acts faded into oblivion, their performances mere afterimages compared to the spectacle you had just witnessed. Your mind replayed the image of the Nightcrawler, his impossible agility, and the enigmatic smile hidden beneath the mask. The program, clutched tightly in your hand, became a talisman against the fading magic, a tangible reminder of the night that had stolen your breath and ignited a latent flame deep within your very core.

As the applause dwindled and the spotlight dimmed, you felt a frantic energy surge through you. You couldn't just let this incredible encounter end. You had to meet the Mystifying Nightcrawler, to thank him for his amazing performance. It totally didn't have anything to do with your newfound crush. Nope.

Despite your parents' apathy towards mutants, their dismissal fueled a rebellious spark. Seeing the way they interacted with the worn-out animals solidified your resolve. This wasn't a place of wonder, but a place where the extraordinary was exploited. But Nightcrawler, he was different. He brought a touch of magic to the dreary spectacle.

"Come on," your mother called, her voice laced with impatience, "Let's get some overpriced cotton candy and get out of here."

You mumbled an excuse, your heart hammering in your chest. Scanning the emptying stands, you spotted him – a flash of blue disappearing behind a faded red curtain. With a last furtive glance at your parents, now deep in conversation with a vendor, you sprinted towards the backstage area.

The worn canvas walls billowed in the evening breeze, and the air thrummed with a low murmur of voices. You navigated the maze of caravans, each one a peeling testament to the circus's nomadic life. Just as you were about to give up, a figure emerged from one of the larger caravans.

It was him. The Nightcrawler. But instead of his vibrant costume, he was clad in worn jeans and a simple white shirt. He held a red rose in his hand, its vibrant color stark against his stark blue fur. His mask was off, revealing kind golden eyes and a mischievous grin.

Your stomach did a nervous flip-flop. This wasn't the enigmatic performer you'd admired from afar. He had to have been around the same age as you. His vulnerability made him even more captivating. You hesitated, unsure of how to approach him.

Sensing your presence, he turned, his yellow eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile spread across his face, as warm and genuine as the setting sun.

"“Hallo Schöne”," he said, his voice a melodic baritone. "Seems the Mystifying Nightcrawler has a little fan."

You stammered, cheeks burning. "I, uh… I just wanted to thank you. Your performance… it was incredible. Um, you're also the first mutant I've ever seen. Sorry, I'm not from around here. I'm from America." You played with the hem of your shirt, fidgeting nervously around him.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. "Thank you, frau. You make a kind audience. I hope I did not frighten you. I know I look a bit... ungewöhnlich."

He held out the rose. "Would you care for this?"

You hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take the flower, its soft petals cool against your fingertips. "It's beautiful," you breathed.

His gaze held yours, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. "So," he said, his voice dropping a touch, "what's a junge Dame like you doing backstage at a traveling circus?"

You inhaled deeply, the scent of hay and diesel fuel filling your lungs. As you spoke, a strange tingling sensation crawled up your arm, making the hairs stand on end. It felt... electric, like a current running just beneath the surface of your skin. You flinched, dropping your gaze from Kurt's captivating golden eyes to the rose in your hand.

"I…" you started, your voice catching in your throat. The tingling intensified, spreading across your body in a wave. Panic surged through you, a primal fear of the unknown. Before you could apologize or explain the sudden tremor, your vision blurred at the edges. The world seemed to distort around you, the vibrant red rose in your hand pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

Kurt's demeanor shifted instantly. His playful smile vanished, replaced by a mask of concern. He reached out, his hand hovering a safe distance from yours. "Are you alright, Freund ?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You struggled to speak, your tongue thick and heavy. The strange energy within you crackled, yearning to be released. This wasn't the first time your body reacted this way. You feared the worst. You were starting to believe you were a mutant too. But you could never reveal that to your parents.

They'd disown you in a heartbeat. All those scholarships they made you apply for would never matter if they found out you were different. You knew you needed to get away, to disappear before you lost control and revealed your secret in front of the mysterious Nightcrawler.

"I… I don't feel well," you managed to force out, your voice shaky. Shame burned in your stomach for the abrupt change. "I should get back to my parents."

Kurt's eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "Of course," he said gently. "Let me take you to them."

He moved with his trademark agility, guiding you through the maze of caravans with an ease that left you breathless. You stumbled slightly, your legs shaky under the weight of the unknown power coursing through you. Kurt offered you his arm for support, but before you could reach for it, your parents' voices cut through the air.

"There you are!" your mother exclaimed, her voice laced with annoyance. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

You turned to see them approaching, their faces etched with concern. When they spotted Kurt hovering beside you, their expressions hardened.

"Don't touch our child, freak!" your father barked, his voice thick with disgust.

Shame washed over you, hot and suffocating. Kurt's hand recoiled as if struck. His shoulders slumped, the joy that had previously emanated from him extinguished.

"I was just helping, Herr," he said, his voice mild yet firm. "They seemed unwell."

Your mother scoffed. "Don't need any help from your kind." She grabbed your arm possessively, dragging you away before you could even look back at Kurt.

"Wait!" you cried, struggling against her grip. But your voice was lost in the bustle of the crowd. You stole a final glance over your shoulder, only to see Kurt standing alone, with one hand rubbing subconsciously over his other right bicep.

His yellow eyes, once filled with warmth, now held a flicker of sadness as they looked off in the distance. He was the first of his kind that you had met and you finally felt like you resonated with him. But it was all too short lived. All you were left of him was the single red rose he'd given you as a memory of your encounter.

With a heavy heart, you were whisked away from the circus, your first encounter with the Mystifying Nightcrawler ending abruptly, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste and a burning question: would you ever see him again?

The 90s were a whirlwind of discovering and finally, somewhat, honing your mutant abilities. Mutants, now looked down upon more than ever, made you even more of an advocate for your kind. You got that scholarship but at the expense of your parents actually disowning you after a fight at the dinner table ended up with your mother's smashed fine China on the floor at the expense of your powers.

For some reason, they'd brought up Nightcrawler again and it sickened you to the point that you'd had enough. When they found out you were just another "freak" that was the last straw and they kicked you out and you never heard from them again. Good riddance you'd said.

The only thing that sucked about them kicking you out was that you had to quickly find a job and a place to live or you'd end up just another homeless mutant on the streets. All that trust fund money had long gone down the drain when they cut you off completely.

You were residing in New York now. You found a dingy little apartment to live in while you finished up your degree in Advanced Physics. You were finally set to graduate this month and after that, who knows.

You wanted to find a job and finally move out of the crappy little apartment you'd called home for a few years now. At least your neighbor next door, Peter Parker, was usually quiet and it gave you room to study without having to complain with a knock at his door, even if he did come and go at odd times of the night.

One particular day, you were sitting at your favorite little corner coffee shop, studying for your final exam, when all hell broke loose on the street. A piece of large shrapnel flew through the glass of the shop, eliciting screams and terrified shouts from pedestrians as people flew to take cover.

You dove for cover under the overturned coffee table, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The tremor that had rattled the windows had morphed into a full-blown city-rattling rampage. But it wasn't an earthquake. The tremors moved, a monstrous crimson figure stomping through the city streets, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Juggernaut. You recognized him from news reports – a mutant powerhouse the X-Men struggled to contain. And here he was, rampaging through your city like a bull in a china shop.

Panic threatened to consume you, but amidst the chaos, a voice in your head rose above the fear. You were no longer the scared kid, afraid of their powers, who watched Nightcrawler perform at the circus.

If this new era taught you anything, it was discovering your mutant abilities, the escalating anti-mutant sentiment, and the brutal fight with your parents that ended with disownment and shattered family heirlooms. The memory of them calling you a "freak" like Nightcrawler still stung, but it also ignited a fire within you. You wouldn't be another victim.

Squinting past the overturned table, you saw the X-Men, their familiar blue and gold uniforms standing resolute against the crimson giant. And there he was, Nightcrawler – older, even more handsome than you'd remembered, but with the same twinkle in his eyes. He fought with a desperate grace, teleporting in and out, trying to flank Juggernaut. But the red behemoth seemed unstoppable.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you channeled the theoretical knowledge from years of studying advanced physics. The raw energy of the city pulsed around you, a live wire waiting to be tapped into. It felt almost like an extension of yourself, hungry for release. You stood, running from your sense of security, and joined the chaos outside.

With a surge of will, you unleashed it. A concentrated beam of pure energy, hotter than a thousand suns, erupted from your outstretched palms. It slammed into Juggernaut's side, the red giant staggering with a surprised grunt. The X-Men seized their chance, a flurry of attacks momentarily halting the crimson tide. Cyclops blasted an optic beam, Storm unleashed a swirling vortex of wind, and Wolverine harried Juggernaut with his adamantium claws.

Kurt, finally free from the relentless onslaught, materialized beside you, his yellow familiar eyes widening in disbelief. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. "It's you," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

You offered a small smile, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. "Helping hand, remember?" Your voice was hoarse, but it held a newfound strength. With another surge of energy, you deflected a stray blow from Juggernaut, allowing Storm to unleash another torrent of wind.

The X-Men, rejuvenated by your unexpected intervention, pressed their attack. Professor Xavier's telepathic voice boomed, urging Juggernaut to stand down. The fight raged on, but your power tip, the concentrated beam of pure energy, proved to be the turning point. Juggernaut, overwhelmed by the combined forces of the X-Men and your unique ability, faltered. His helmet had crumbled, rendering him vulnerable.

Finally, with a roar of frustration, Juggernaut surrendered, taken away by the NYPD as they forced his hefty frame into the back of a mutant prisoner containment vehicle. Exhausted but victorious, the X-Men regrouped. Kurt materialized beside you once more, his gaze still filled with awe and disbelief. "Freund," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it really you?"

You met his gaze, no longer the scared kid from the dusty circus tent. The years of hardship and self-discovery had forged you into a new person. With a defiant smile, you nodded, ready to tell your story and finally find your place amongst the X-Men.

You wanted more than anything to catch up with the infamous Nightcrawler. But Professor Xavier was making his way over to you, clearly wanting a word. The look on his face was nothing short of astonishment. Kurt, sensing this, gave you a reassuring nod as he turned to join the others once more.

"Are you alright, young one?" he inquired, his voice warm and calming.

You nodded, finding your voice a little hoarse. "Yes, Professor. Just a bit… surprised, I guess." You couldn't believe you were talking to the Professor X.

"Surprised?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I imagine so. But you were quite… extraordinary out there."

The compliment brought a shy smile to your face. You explained how you'd been studying advanced physics, how the energy in the city resonated with you, and how you'd finally been able to control it. You confessed your situation too, about the fight with your parents and being disowned. Shame burned in your stomach, but you held Professor Xavier's gaze.

"It seems you have much to learn, young one," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "But you also have much to teach. We've been looking for someone to help our young mutants hone their abilities, someone who understands the science behind them." His eyes twinkled. "Would you be interested in a position at the X-Mansion, once you graduate of course?"

A wave of emotions washed over you – relief, hope, and a flicker of something more. The X-Mansion. A place where you could belong, where you could use your abilities without fear. You looked at Kurt, who stood a few feet away, a wide grin plastered on his face. His saffron eyes held a spark of excitement, mirroring your own.

"I… I'd be honored sir," you stammered, a genuine smile blooming on your face.

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Excellent. Now, how about we get you cleaned up and settled in? The X-Mansion can be your home. In the meantime, we can work on your new alias." He chuckled lightly.

The mansion, a sprawling structure that seemed to rise organically from the wooded landscape, took your breath away. It was a world away from your cramped apartment, a sanctuary for those who were different. You settled in quickly, the warmth of the X-Men a stark contrast to the cold rejection you'd faced at home.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake behind the mansion in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself drawn to its peaceful serenity. As you sat on the edge of the dock, a sudden bamf! sound reverberated next to you as a scent of brimstone hung in the air. It was Nightcrawler.

Suddenly, you felt very conscious and shy all over gain. It was really him. There was no mistaking that sheen of blue fur that lined his skin.

"Quite the entrance you made today," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed, a nervous flutter in your chest. "I figured you could use some help."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the water. You took a deep breath, finally ready to share your story.

"Remember what you said at the circus? About me being a kind audience?"

Kurt nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features.

"Well," you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper, "I wasn't just kind. I was… smitten. You were the first mutant I ever saw, and it was like watching magic. The thought that for one second, I wasn't alone. That there was another similar to me."

You explained how your parents' reaction had fueled your fear, how you'd kept the rose all these years. You confessed how they'd called you a "freak" just like you'd mentioned, and how you'd ended up alone after they disowned you.

Kurt listened intently, his expression a mix of sympathy and something else you couldn't quite decipher. When you finished, he reached out, taking your hand gently in his. His blue fur felt surprisingly warm against your skin.

"My Freund," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "You are no freak. You are extraordinary. And your parents… well, they were wrong. Trust me, I've lived all my life thinking I was an abomination."

You felt a twist of pain at his words. He was so kind and sweet. Even just so as the night when you'd met him the first time back at that old, sketchy Bavarian circus.

He squeezed your hand, and a spark shot through you. You looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of your own feelings there.

"The truth is," Kurt confessed, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck, "you've never left my mind either. There was something about you that day, a spark I couldn't ignore."

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. The thought of him feeling the same way all those years sent a warmth throughout your body. The thought that you'd somehow made an impression on him sent butterflies wildly dancing in your stomach.

The truth hung heavy in the air, a silent confession echoed in Kurt's blushing cheeks and your own hammering heart. The twilight sky, ablaze in fiery hues, seemed to witness the unspoken yearning that crackled between you.

His touch, a gentle pressure on your hand, sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You leaned in, drawn by a force stronger than gravity. The kiss, when it came, was a revelation – tentative at first, then deepening with a passion that mirrored the vibrant tapestry of the setting sun.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, the sweet taste of berries lingering on his tongue. Your hand reached up, tracing the contours of his face, the velvety texture of his blue fur sending shivers down your spine. He reciprocated, his touch delicate yet firm, as if afraid to break the spell.

The kiss deepened, a silent conversation flowing through the press of your lips. He tasted of adventure, of something innocent but also skilled in the ways of romance. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves, momentarily pulling you apart.

"It's Kurt... my name is Kurt Wagner," he'd finally told you his name.

You gazed into Kurt's eyes, a newfound understanding blooming there. The dam holding back your emotions seemed to break.

"Kurt," you whispered, your voice thick with a desire you could no longer deny.

He responded with a low rumble in his chest, his blue fur darkening with a blush. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, teleporting you both to a deserted corner of the mansion's rooftop.

The cool night air whipped around you, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter and music from the common room. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a glittering backdrop for the nascent intimacy unfolding between you.

His touch became bolder, exploring the exposed skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers trailed down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and the surprising strength hidden beneath his lithe frame. Clothes became an unwelcome barrier, discarded in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises.

The moonlight, a silent witness to your blossoming love, bathed your entwined forms in an ethereal glow. Passion flared like wildfire, fueled by the years of unspoken attraction and the shared trauma that had bound you together.

The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered endearments and stolen breaths. With each touch, each lingering kiss, the anxieties of your past faded, replaced by the promise of a future brighter than the city lights on the horizon. You'd found each other, and this time nothing would take Kurt away from you.

#xmen #x men 97 #cera writes #kurt wagner x you #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner fic #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler

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overrboarrd · 3 months ago

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roman reigns x black!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: mentions of alcohol and inebriation a/n: decided to go ahead and run this one back. let me know what y'all think!

—————

Acrylic nails mindlessly stirred the deep amber liquid in front of her. She would’ve opted for something lighter, but the aching in her chest begged to be pacified. Shoulders brushed against her in the confined space. The vibrations from the speakers that traveled from the wooden floor throughout her body was her oxygen; the only thing keeping the monstrous cage around her heart from caving in.

She exhaled deeply before closing her eyes. The burning sedated the dull pain, finally giving her what she longed for. Relief. Though the days would pass and her heart would yearn once again. Inebriation soon overwhelmed her, and whilst her mind was almost gone, her body governed her with ease. Legs carried her outside of the bar and around the rust brick building. Fingers fumbled around a purse for a few seconds before pulling out a slim rectangular electronic, the lit screen anticipating the truth that sat on her heart.

“There are countless things that are wrong with me. I’m flawed and-and fragile. Why would you want a glass case as a fiancé? As your wife?”

The impulsive phrase magnified their romance into a blooming estrangement, condemning her to almost two years of seclusion. Her chestnut irises rapidly moved across the device, searching for the one name that could do more than just temporarily pick up the pieces.

Roman.

Her eyes lingered on his contact photo for a few seconds. She kept everything; pictures, voice messages, brief notes that he’d written on random loose sheets of paper succeeding their most intimate moments. When they first met she didn’t take him as romantic. They had not-so-subtly been surprised with a blind double date after Naomi suggested she join her and Jimmy out skating.

————

She walked into the building fully believing that it was another night out with her favorite couple. She’d roll around for a while; then go head to head with Jimmy in air hockey at the small arcade on the side of the rink while Naomi cheered her on. Jimmy would pout and joke that she loved her more than him. The Rink was their old stomping grounds. She and Naomi would go every weekend during their school years. Beating him was second nature. After their 3 round game, she took a seat at one of the benches near the lockers; switching out her sneakers for crisp white skates. Her fingers separated the lace before grabbing the skate and slipping it on. As she got ready to head back on the floor, she overheard a rich, baritone voice engaging with the underpaid worker at the counter, causing her to look up.

“Um, I don’t think we have a size 15, but I can take a look. Give me a second.” The lanky teenage boy disappeared from the counter while the mildly annoyed-looking man rubbed his beard in frustration. She watched his jaw clench, slightly shaking his head. His large hands barely fit in his pocket as he pulled out his phone. Her eyes scanned his side profile. Handsome was an understatement. She didn’t need to see his full face to know that, yet he must have felt her stare. His eyes immediately locked with hers and she got to see the entirety of his herculean features. A small smile replaced the frown that was there seconds before. His once furrowed brows softened, lips parting as if he took in a deep breath. She held her gaze while a smirk graced her face. Eye contact only breaking when she noticed the worker coming back to the front empty handed. Not wanting to be on the other side of his, presumably, growing irritation, she finished tying her skates and stood up. A quick glance was shot over her shoulder, leaving the alluring stranger to his dilemma.

An 808 bass guided resin wheels along maple floors. Strobe lights danced in her eyes and euphoria pulsated through her veins. After a few more songs, she finally decided to join her abandoned party of two. Naomi and Jimmy were sitting on the benches on the opposing side of the rink, his arms wrapped around her while they laughed. She found it adorable, just as much as when the couple first met. They were the perfect match, and they never made her feel like a third-wheel on their outings. So she could only imagine how crazy her face looked as she walked back to their bench, finding the new addition to their party leaning against the wall to the left of Naomi.

‘Who the fuck is h-’ her eyes squinted ever so slightly before widening. Realization and confusion tangoed in her mind while the three finally noticed her heading their way.

“This is my cousin, Roman.” Jimmy interrupted her unfinished thought, standing up and patting his cousin’s back before walking a few steps next to his wife. She was sure her facial expression said enough. Naomi looked at her with raised brows and pursed lips, holding back a laugh. The man outstretched his hand, a playful gleam in his eyes as he watched her. Chills ran down her spine as she hesitantly shook it and introduced herself. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reached the base of his neck. Blackcurrant and ambergris cologne encompassed her. Being so close to him felt magnetic. A hardened glare was thrown Naomi and Jimmy’s way; they met it with two awkward smiles and a thumbs up on Jimmy’s end.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Roman cleared his throat. “I’m visiting for the weekend and my cousin invited me out with him.” A tight lipped smile graced his face, letting her know that he, too, had fallen victim to the couple’s antics.

“Seems like those two have quite the sense of humor, huh? Naomi said the same thing to me.” A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes finally meeting his. “You should’ve known it was a set up.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “And why is that?” His brows furrowed in the same way she had seen earlier, slight wrinkles sat above the bridge of his nose.

Her lips formed into another smirk. “How many skating rinks do you know that actually carry a size 15.”

Roman let out a laugh and captured his bottom lip between his pearly whites, a small dimple forming in his cheek. A genuine smile spread across his face as he shook his head, causing her heart to flutter.

“Believe it or not, I’ve never been here before.” He rebutted.

Her brows raised. “Damn, you don’t visit your own cousin?”

“Oh you got jokes, huh.”

“Jimmy really dropped the ball by not telling you that I’m a comedian.” she quipped.

The rest of the night was full of playful banter between the couples. An old school evening of ‘girls versus boys’ transitioned to the Fatu’s home, where the drinks flowed and old college stories left her jumping across the coffee table to cover Naomi’s mouth. Roman and Jimmy reminisced on their youth, from wrestling in the backyard to finally making it to the mainstage together with Jimmy’s twin, Jey.

The liquor’s lethargic aftermath seemed to hit the group simultaneously. Naomi’s legs were stretched across Jimmy’s lap, his hand rested on her thigh as she nestled against him. She caught herself watching them, perhaps a bit too long. It was then she noticed Roman’s arm around her, his thumb tracing small circles on her shoulder. She let her eyes drift close, embracing the newfound comfort of her unanticipated future.

—————

If only she had known the consequences of her insecurities then. He was so good. Not just for her, but overall. Selfless. Understanding. Patient. Though she pushed the latter to exhaustion.

‘Two years couldn’t have been that long.’ She thought, knowing that each month was its own eternity. Her fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over blue digits. Apprehension started to peek through the logical side of her brain, longing fought to steer her in the opposite direction.

Push and pull. Angel and Devil.

Lucifer convinced the cognac to play puppet master, and ringing soon flooded her ears.

Once.

Twice.

A few more times.

Then she hung up. Heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. The line between relief and heartache blurred. She pressed the small button on the side of her phone, locking it before opening her purse again. Her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat as she fought to hold back her tears. Embarrassed. ‘Pathetic.’ She thought. Of course he didn’t answer. He probably changed his number ages ago. Why would he leave that door open?

Ring.

She froze.

He was calling back.

The screen lit up with Roman’s name, his smiling face staring back at her. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. She could almost hear the ticking of a clock, like this moment held the weight of every second they’d been apart.

What if he’s moved on? What if he hates me?

Her chest tightened at the thought. But the weight of the last two years was too heavy, and the aching loneliness was unbearable. The liquor coursing through her veins urged her forward, whispering promises of fleeting courage.

Her finger pressed the button before she could stop herself.

“Hello?” The octave of her voice barely above a whisper. A long pause followed, she braced herself. There was a brief moment of shuffling before Roman decided to speak.

“Why now?” He answered, voice deep and groggy. Nostalgia engulfed her. She missed him. Her phone moved from her ear and she looked at the screen. 2:47 AM.

“I didn’t… realize how late it was...I’m sorry.” Her sentence dragged on longer than she intended. Shit.

“You’re drunk.” His tone was austere.

She hoped it hadn’t been too obvious, but Roman wasn’t fooled. “I might’ve had a drink or two. I just-”Her breath hitched. “I know... I know I fucked up.” Lucifer transformed from puppet master to a full on ventriloquist. A prolonged sigh followed by a slightly muffled ‘Fuck’ came from the opposite end of the phone.

“Where are you?”

“What?”

And for the first time in two years, her name left his lips.

“Where are you.” He demanded this time. Growing impatient with her lack of response.

She could hear him fully up and moving around. Keys jingled in the background, followed by a closed door and heavy footsteps. Those damn size 15’s . The Angel and Devil began waging another internal war. She could apologize for disturbing him so late, hang up the phone and never bother him again. Leave him, again. Or she could get left to her own devices. Allow herself to come face to face with the past that she destroyed. With the man that she never stopped loving.

A cranked engine pulled her out of her thoughts.

“I’m at club LaBelle.”

————

Another double shot of cognac found its way into her tremulous hand as she waited for Roman to arrive. Her body cemented in disbelief. He was on his way there. To her. She tried to prepare herself, playing out multiple scenarios in her head, but she was too far gone. Intoxication hijacked what was left of her partly sober mind. Her legs barely held her up as she sat on the barstool, turning to watch the sea of drunken people congregated together.

Then she saw him.

His jet black hair was tossed carelessly into a ponytail, much longer than when she last saw him. His height gave him an advantage over the crowd as he maneuvered through them, spotting her with ease. A full frown spread across his face, clearly irritated being around loud music and sweaty bodies at this time of night. Dark brows, complimented by wrinkles etched deep on his forehead, contrasted against his skin. She couldn’t read him. His eyes were empty as he looked at her, nodding his head towards the entrance. Wordlessly informing her that it was time to leave.

Not wanting to make the night difficult, she attempted to make her exit. Her head spun and heavy eyelids obstructed her vision. Roman followed not too far behind her. As they made their way outside, she stumbled, catching herself on the door frame. A long tattooed arm peeked into her peripheral vision. She shook the thought of him catching her out of her head. He had yet to say two words to her. She tried to regain her focus, eyes scanning the street for the familiar midnight black sedan.

“This way.” His voice came from behind her.

She turned her head to see him walking towards a black SUV. The headlights flashed as he unlocked the doors from the key fob. He opened the door for her, surprising her more than it should have. Roman was always a gentleman. She struggled to lift herself into the seat, limbs weak. Her legs swung into the vehicle and she let her head rest against the seat.

Roman watched her closely as she got in the car, closing the door behind her before making his way to the driver’s side. He followed suit, shutting his own door before looking over at her. Her eyes were closed, possibly in an attempt to sober up. The small button on the right side of the wheel lit up as he stepped on the brake, pushing it to start the car.

The silence during the car ride was overwhelming. Roman pulled the car in her driveway before shifting the gear to park. No one moved to speak first. Her eyes finally opened, head turning to look at him. He remained stoic. Face completely blank though his side profile was still nothing less than stunning. With liquid courage still lingering in her veins, her mouth opened to speak. “Ro-”

“Why now.” His voice reverberated off the black leather seats.

Her body tensed, finally understanding what he meant. . Emotions hit her simultaneously. Remorse. Love. Regret. Like that pivotal night years ago, it was, once again, all too much.

“I can’t right now Roman.” She slurred.

“Oh now you can’t talk? But your drunk ass can call me at 2:30 in the morning after not saying nothin’ for two years?” The betrayal of his true feelings finally spilled out of him. She watched his grip around the wheel tighten.

“I called you for weeks after you walked out and you never called me back. Hell, Naomi tried to talk to you about it in person and you dismissed her too. You completely erased me out of your life.” He continued, his voice carried as he briefly turned to face her.

A knife pierced through her chest. “I never erased you.” She swallowed back the taste of bile; not knowing if it was from her drunkenness alone or fear of it speaking for her

“You left.” The slight crack in his voice almost went unnoticed.

‘I had to.’ She thought. The words lodged in her throat fought to escape and her insobriety wielded the key.

The silence between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. Roman’s profile was as rigid as stone, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with every passing second.

“I love you, Roman,” she finally whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles white, as if her confession had sent another wave of anger crashing over him.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not after all this time. Not after I got down on one knee and told you that you’re the person I wanted to spend forever with.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the car. “You don’t just walk out on someone you love. You don’t vanish for two years and expect everything to be okay when you decide to waltz back into their life.”

“I know I hurt you—” she began, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“Man is this a joke? Hurt me?” Roman laughed bitterly, his eyes flicking towards her for the briefest moment. “You didn’t just hurt me. You left me, and for what, huh?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded. Her chest tightened further, guilt mixing with the alcohol in her bloodstream.

“I wasn’t ready,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was broken, Roman. I still am.”

His gaze softened, but only for a second. “I never needed you to be perfect. I just needed you to stay.”

“Why’d you answer my call?” She challenged. “Why, after all this time, haven’t you moved on with your life?”

“Because when I said those words to you, I meant it. I never stopped caring about your wellbeing. I’ll always make sure you’re good.” He let out a heavy sigh, pulling into her driveway to park.

“I’m just not in love with you anymore.”

There it went; the cage around her heart.

Shattering. Piece by piece.

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x reader

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writingbuckets · 2 months ago

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𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐢

paige bueckers x reader

wc: 2.9k

a/n: and we are done! thank you so much for taking the time to read this series, i posted a poll on what trope to tackle next so plz let me know! <3

It was just past dusk when Paige finally approached your apartment, the sky tinted with streaks of pink and amber. Her heart pounded as she took a deep breath, hands tightening around the box she’d brought with her. She hadn’t slept, barely eaten, running only on the nerves and the finality of knowing she had one last chance.

The plan had been in her mind for weeks, and she knew it had to be something real—something that showed you every piece of her that she’d hidden, the parts she’d been too scared to admit even to herself. She wanted you to see the truth, to know the depth of her regret, the aching realization that she had let go of the best thing in her life out of fear.

Paige exhaled, walked up to the door, and hesitated for a moment before knocking. She waited, hearing footsteps approach, feeling a swell of nerves that made her question if she’d be able to get through what she’d rehearsed in her mind so many times. The door opened, and there you were, the person who’d held her heart from the beginning, the person she’d hurt and missed every day since.

Your face was unreadable as you looked at Paige, and for a moment, Paige thought you might just shut the door in her face. Instead, you stood back, allowing her to step inside, though the tension was unmistakable.

Paige clutched the small box she held as she walked in, her eyes scanning the familiar apartment, the memories flooding back like an open wound. She didn’t waste a moment—she couldn’t afford to.

“I know I have no right to be here,” she started, voice already trembling, “but I had to come. I needed you to know that I’ve tried—I’ve tried everything to get over you, to move on like you have. But I can’t. I can’t do it, and I’m done pretending like I can.”

You crossed your arms, watching Paige cautiously, and though you didn’t speak, the silence felt heavy with both hurt and curiosity.

Paige took a breath, forcing herself to hold your gaze, even as memories of everything you’d gone through threatened to overwhelm her. “I was stupid,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I know I broke your heart, and I can’t make that disappear. I pushed you away because I was terrified. I was afraid of letting someone get that close to me, and I was too weak to admit it.”

Paige held up a wooden box in her hand, a small weathered thing she’d kept with her since she was a kid. She handed the small, timeworn box to you, who hesitated for a second before lifting the lid. Inside first was the bracelet, each charm gleaming softly in the low light. But there was more—a small collection of mementos, each carefully tucked away, each one a piece of your shared past.

You looked up at Paige, the surprise evident in your eyes, but you said nothing. Paige took a shaky breath and began, her voice soft.

“This box… it’s everything I couldn’t tell you back then. I know it sounds dramatic,” Paige added with a self-deprecating chuckle, “but these things—they’re us.”

You reached for the bracelet first, running your fingers over the delicate charms, each one holding a tiny piece of the past. Paige pointed to the first one, a small basketball hoop and ball.

“Remember our first night out together? You dragged me to that arcade because you said you were tired of the library, and we ended up in that little basketball game rivalry? I think we broke some record,” Paige said, laughing softly. “You were so competitive; you kept saying you’d beat me if it took all night.”

You smiled at the memory, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as you recalled the night Paige’s hand had lingered on yours a little longer than usual.

Paige’s fingers brushed the next charm, a tiny book with a title etched in tiny letters on the cover. “This one’s for all the times you helped me study when I thought I was falling behind. I was stubborn and didn’t want to admit it, but you always made things easier for me, like it was nothing. You were my support, even back then.”

Your thumb brushed over the charm, remembering long nights in the library, coffee cups and textbooks sprawled across the table, and quiet moments of closeness you’d shared.

Your eyes softened, clearly taken aback by the sentiment. You continued, running your fingers along the items until you came to another charm—a miniature guitar pick. Your eyes widened, and Paige smiled.

“That’s for the night you sang to me. You barely knew the chords, and we were both terrible, but it was one of the best nights of my life. I couldn’t believe someone would go out of their way just to make me laugh like that.”

Paige lifted out the next item—a folded paper, edges worn from months of handling. You unfolded it carefully and realized it was a movie ticket stub, faded but legible. Paige leaned in, pointing out the date.

“Our first ‘real’ date,” Paige murmured. “In my head it wasn’t a date, that it was just two friends hanging out, but… we still held hands in the theater. That night, I wanted nothing more than for it to be something real.”

She hesitated, her gaze lingering on your expression as you held the memory in your hands. “I kept that ticket because, to me, it was more than just a movie. It was the first time I let myself hope that you might feel the same way I did.”

Your fingers next settled on a slightly worn polaroid, tucked near the bottom as if it were something precious yet private, the edges worn and faded. You held it up, and your breath caught. In the photo, you were leaning against a sunlit window, totally unaware of the camera. You looked peaceful, lost in thought as you gazed out into the distance, a small, gentle smile on your lips.

Paige watched your reaction closely, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “I took that without you knowing,” she admitted softly. “It was the day you helped me through that horrible week last year—the one where I thought I’d never get back on the court.”

Paige’s voice dropped to a murmur, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I looked over and saw you there, just… being yourself, and I remember feeling this… ache. This sense that I wanted you to be in my life like that, always.” She paused, swallowing against the vulnerability. “That was the moment I knew. That’s why I kept it—because it was the first time I realized I didn’t just want you around. I needed you.”

You glanced down at the photo again, a new understanding dawning in your gaze, and as Paige looked at you, it was clear the sentiment behind that quiet, candid shot ran deep. It was more than a photo; it was a realization captured in a fleeting moment, one Paige hadn’t been able to let go of since.

You were quiet, lost in the memory. As you continued to sift through the box, your fingers brushed against something familiar and soft. You pulled out your favorite book, its cover worn and well-loved, the pages dog-eared and creased from countless readings. It was the one you had often discussed late into the night, the one that had sparked debates, laughter, and even some heated arguments.

But what made this book truly special was the array of handwritten notes that filled its margins. You opened it gingerly, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what it was. Paige had annotated the entire book.

“Every time you’d talk about this book, I could see how much it meant to you,” Paige’s voice broke through your reverie, and you glanced up to see her looking a little sheepish. “I thought if I made notes in it, I could keep a piece of you with me.”

You flipped through the pages, each one adorned with Paige’s messy handwriting. In one corner, you found a note next to a particularly poignant quote about love: “This reminds me of that time we talked about our fears under the stars. You made me feel so understood.”

On another page, a line about friendship had a note that read: “This is so us! I love how we can be completely brainless together. Remember that karaoke night?” A small doodle of a microphone accompanied the text, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I used to flip through this book whenever I missed you,” Paige confessed, her voice laced with vulnerability. “It was the only way I could relive those moments we shared, even when we were apart.”

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you as you continued to read, finding more notes that made your heart swell. There was one where Paige had circled a passage about overcoming obstacles with determination: “You always fight for what you believe in. I admire that so much about you.”

“I can’t believe you did this,” you said, your voice shaky with emotion. “I never knew you felt this way.”

“I just wanted you to know that even when we were fighting or I messed things up, you were always on my mind. This book was a way to connect with you when I felt like I’d lost you,” Paige admitted, her eyes sincere and searching.

You hugged the book to your chest, tears pooling in your eyes. The annotations were more than just words—they were a testament to your shared history, a way for Paige to express her love and longing. This book wasn’t just a collection of stories; it was a chronicle of your relationship, filled with laughter, pain, and an undeniable bond that refused to be broken.

You reached for the last item in the box, a small key tied to a thin, worn ribbon. Your eyes darted up to Paige, a question clear in your expression.

“That’s…” Paige took a deep breath, almost reluctant to explain. “It’s the key to my old place. I had a spare made for you, even though I never worked up the nerve to give it to you. I wanted you to have a place to go, something that felt like yours, too. I know it’s silly, but I wanted you to feel… safe with me. Like you always had somewhere you’d belong.”

You closed your hand over the key, your fingers trembling slightly as you took it all in. Paige reached out, her hand brushing against yours. Her voice was almost a whisper.

“This key was supposed to be yours,” Paige said, her voice soft. “I got it because I wanted to share everything with you, every part of me, but I couldn’t even do that. I never gave it to you because I wasn’t brave enough to show you how much you meant to me.”

You looked down at the open box, the memories spread before you, each item carrying times of love, hurt, and unspoken words. You closed your eyes for a moment, your thumb brushing over the key once more, and then you looked up at Paige, the faintest hint of hope flickering in her gaze.

“These are all the pieces of us, all the things I should have told you when I had the chance. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I can’t undo that. But I’m here, laying it all out, hoping it’s not too late.”

Paige swallowed, continuing. “I know I can’t fix the past, and I know I hurt you more than I can ever apologize for. But I need you to know that I am so, so sorry. And that… I love you. I love you, and I’ve loved you since the first day we met. I was just too scared to believe it.”

You stood there in silence, your face unreadable as you looked from the box to Paige. The weight of the words Paige had just confessed lingered in the air, thick and fragile. Paige could feel the tension in every muscle as she waited, holding her breath as she awaited any reaction—anger, relief, forgiveness—anything that would give her a glimpse into what you were feeling.

Finally, your expression shifted, softening just slightly as you took a deep breath. “You hurt me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it aloud was a wound reopening.

Paige nodded, her eyes misting. “I know. I know, and I can’t tell you how much I hate myself for that. I should have been brave enough to tell you the truth back then, but I was too caught up in my own fears. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Paige murmured, her voice raw, “but I’m here, trying to make it right. I’m here because losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. I can’t change the past, but if you’d let me… I want to spend my future trying to make up for it.”

Your gaze softened, and Paige could see the hurt mingling with the smallest glint of something else—hope, maybe. She wanted to believe it, to believe that maybe, despite everything, there was still a chance.

You reached out, hesitantly, and took the bracelet from the box, your fingers brushing Paige’s hand. You looked down at it, running your thumb over the charms, each one representing a memory, a moment Paige had never been brave enough to share.

The silence hung between you, but this time, it wasn’t empty—it was charged with possibility, with the faintest glimmer of hope.

Your fingers traced over each item in the box, your eyes misty as you looked up at Paige. “I… I don’t know what to say. This is… everything, Paige. You kept all these memories, every little piece of us.” You let out a shaky breath, brushing your hand over the polaroid before glancing back up. “Thank you for holding on to this when I couldn’t.”

Paige’s eyes softened, and she took a small step closer. “I didn’t want to forget, even when it hurt. Every memory… it kept me hoping that maybe one day, I’d have the chance to show you how much it all meant to me.”

You smiled, your voice barely above a whisper. “It means more than you know. I just… I can’t believe you went through all this trouble. You kept every little part of us safe.”

Paige reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Because I never stopped believing we could find our way back.”

There was a long pause, the tension between them shifting as you searched Paige’s face, as if weighing every word. And then, finally, you let out a sigh, a tiny, hopeful smile gracing your lips.

You looked down at your intertwined hands, your fingers gently tracing over Paige's knuckles, gathering the courage to say what you’d been holding back for so long. Your voice was soft, almost trembling. “Paige, I tried to move on… tried so hard to forget. But I couldn’t. Because no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop… loving you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, her eyes searching your face, raw and hopeful.

“I love you, Paige,” you said, your voice soft but steady, tears clouding your vision. “I want nothing more than to be with you.”

Paige pulled you close, wrapping her arms around you like she was afraid to let go. “I love you too. I always have.”

You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, each heartbeat a quiet promise that this time, things would be different. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth between you, the quiet understanding that you had both fought for this—weathered the pain and confusion, the heartbreak and anger.

After a long moment, Paige pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “This time, I’m not letting go,” she whispered, a quiet vow.

You smiled, reaching up to touch Paige’s face gently. “Then don’t,” you replied, a spark of warmth and trust returning to your voice. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

Paige’s hand closed around yours, pulling you close as she leaned in, your faces just inches apart. She took a breath, then, without hesitation, closed the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. There was a softness to it, a tenderness that spoke of everything unspoken—the longing, the pain, the hope you’d both carried. And as you stayed there, wrapped in each other, that one kiss said it all: this was your new beginning, the promise of something you had both fought so hard to reach, something worth every difficult moment you’d overcome.

In that stillness, where love outweighed all your past hurts, you’d finally found your way back to each other.

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