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anthrofreshtodeath · 2 years ago

Note

June prompts #8 please and thank you

Last one - let's do it! 8 is "discovering common interests" and this is merely shameless self-indulgence in one of my own pet interests.

___

“I don’t mind hangin’ out,” Jane says hoarsely. She stands where she stood when she first opened her arms for Maura, just after Maura had opened the front door, letting Jane in as she cried. “You know I’ll hang out with you forever. But is this… did he do it in here?”

Maura dabs her eyes with a new tissue, pulling her light sweater closer to her body just to replace the feeling of Jane on her. “Do what…?” asks Maura even though she’s hesitant to answer. Jane couldn’t possibly mean…

“The leavin’,” clarifies Jane. She leans one hand on the granite of Maura’s kitchen island and puts the other thumb under her belt, right next to the buckle. She looks around, and zeroes in on another one of Angela’s pathologically labeled cabinets. She pushes away and walks toward the wine fridge. She lets the bottle ping on the counter, and props open the door that says stemware. She pulls out two glasses.

Maura sniffles, small and with a latent hiccup, but she goes to the drawer with the corkscrews and pulls out the one she’d normally use for this full-bodied red. “Yes, to answer your question,” she says. She wonders if Jane knows she’s picked an Italian wine to counter Ian’s quite pedestrian, working-class Californian from yesterday. “He stopped here to say goodbye before his flight.”

Jane knows nothing about wine, but every right decision Jane makes is instinctual. Just like the decision to tug on her tight purple tee. She adjusts it until it spreads just right against her abdomen, long and toned and now visible in outline. “Thought so,” she tells Maura. She pours the wine once Maura opens it, and carries both glasses to the front hallway.

Maura smiles, tired, confused, but happy to simply have Jane around. “He often doesn’t say goodbye at all. Which is why I… why I think I’ll never see him again.” And just like that, the tears return, unshed, but welling.

Jane nods. She provides Maura with some silence - cry if you need to, I’m not here to make you forget. Maura doesn’t crumble, even if she falters a little bit, and Jane nods in the direction of the staircase. “Change of scenery? It’s probably for the best,” she says.

Maura’s eyebrow curls up. “The bedroom?” she asks, intrigued.

Jane blushes. “I’m not that kinda girl, Doctor Isles,” she replies. “At least, not while someone’s just had their heart stomped on. I was thinkin’ the library. There’s a sofa in there.”

Now it is Maura’s turn to blush. “Of course. That actually sounds wonderful,” she says.

Jane waits, as Jane always does, for Maura to walk ahead, so that Jane can watch her back, even in Maura’s own home. Maura looks so diminutive when she shuffles on her bare feet back to the stairs; Jane wants to use her entire body to swallow Maura up again. She settles for pressing her front against Maura’s back when Maura pauses at the first step. It’s dark, but a dim light bleeds down from the second floor at the end of the hall. “What’s up?” Jane breathes, rather than asks, right into the crown of Maura’s hair.

“My… I need to know that you really don’t want to go to the bedroom. Because it isn’t… well. The bed isn’t made,” Maura whispers.

“Climb the stairs, Maura. The books are waiting,” snarks Jane. She hears what Maura isn’t saying, and though it irks her, the implication, she holds one of the glasses of wine by the rim, fingers spread against the lip of it, and puts it in front of Maura’s chest. A gesture of goodwill. Of love.

Maura takes the alcohol and obeys, coordinated enough to sip and climb at the same time. She takes the first left, and finds the light switch from memory. “Do you want a blanket?” she asks Jane.

“Let me handle it,” Jane says. She pulls the biggest blanket from the basket at the end of the sofa, smaller than the one in Maura’s living room, but a fluffier, cozier. She kicks off her boots, sits down, drapes the blanket over her knees, and then holds it open, eyeing Maura over.

Maura sighs. The emotion ripples over her face again, and she begins to cry when she finally collapses against Jane, has Jane wrap an arm around her while she curls close. Only minutes since their last embrace and she is starved for it. She sobs softly, almost silently, when Jane settles into the cushions and lets Maura snake arms around Jane’s torso. “I’m sorry,” Maura hiccups when she can.

“For what? Doesn’t seem like you were the one who did anything wrong,” Jane asserts. She looks ahead, and not at Maura, just to give her a little dignity. Maura thrives on dignity. “Who leaves you?”

“Not you,” Maura says quietly, tucked like a child into Jane’s side. The fit is heavy. It feels good.

Jane is quiet for five long minutes. She sips slowly, occasionally, and eventually, Maura sits back up and joins her, pulling her glass from the small coffee table. They are still snuggled close, but now both upright and drinking. Jane studies the titles across from her along the wall-to-wall bookshelves until she gasps. “No way,” she exclaims softly.

Maura perks up. “What?” she presses.

“Snow - my favorite is the Franklin,” Jane points. She doesn’t get up, because neither of them seem to want that.

“Storms and Shipwrecks of New England?” Maura asks. Her hand goes to the skin of Jane’s chest and she presses as she pulls back to stare with incredulity. “Really?”

“Don’t act so shocked,” Jane grumbles.

“It’s just… you hate going out on boats,” Maura tries to save herself, but her chuckle betrays her. “Edward Rowe Snow - really?”

“When I was a kid, I read that book cover to cover at least ten times,” Jane explains.

Maura’s jaw drops. “Me too,” she confesses. “Of course you would like the story about cannibalism. The saddest was ‘The Wreck of the General Arnold.’”

“Yeah, not great,” Jane says. She pauses, thinking. Then she taps Maura's shoulder. “Let’s go to the Cape this summer.”

“You hate the Cape,” Maura responds. “You hate how crowded it gets.”

“But…. they have that pirate museum for the Whydah in Yarmouth,” Jane says. “I think we’d have fun. And we’ll beat the crowds if we go in the middle of June.”

Maura considers, and then she snuggles back into her previous position. “It would be fun,” she concurs. “Jane?”

“And yeah there was cannibalism, but the moral of the story is never give up - because those two sailors braved the rough seas and even though they perished, the stranded men got saved because of them,” Jane continues on her previous train of thought, voice soft and deep like how it gets just before she sleeps.

“Jane,” Maura tries again, more firmly this time.

“Huh? Yeah,” Jane hears her, takes another sip of wine.

“You won’t leave me, right? You’re here to stay?” Maura asks.

Jane shakes her head. “You remember when we took out Marino-”

“When you took out Marino.”

“When we took out Marino, and I was layin’ there, guts, uh, guts spillin’ out?”

“God,” Maura starts to cry again, “how could I forget? Why would you bring that up?”

“Because you put ‘em back in. You didn’t leave. You braved rough seas, had me all over your hands. And that had to be some of the scariest shit you’d ever seen,” Jane says. She takes confidence in this truth. For all the genocide and war Maura has seen, the malaria and the trauma, holding Jane’s insides to keep them from coming outside? Maura hasn’t ever been the same. Not worse, not smaller, but changed. “But you stayed. So you can trust that I’m gonna stay, too. To the bitter end. But not just then, you know? During all the good parts, too. Like the Whydah museum parts. And like the ‘when I eventually say yeah let’s go to the bedroom’ parts.”

“Do you… do you think you’ll say that?” Maura blinks, forces Jane to look at her.

Jane furrows her brow, purses her lips. But then she says, “I think it’s gonna need a deep clean first.”

Maura knows this means more than the words Jane has used, that the sentiment runs deeper, but she can’t help it. “I’ll get Anita here on Monday,” she promises with a deadpan.

Jane cracks a smirk. “Might need CSRU instead,” she jokes. “Take it easy tonight, though, yeah? Nice and slow. Why don’t I grab ol’ Snow off the shelf and read us a few chapters? We can do some of my favorites and some of yours.”

“That… sounds wonderful,” Maura breathes for the second time tonight. “You got it,” says Jane, getting up and crossing over to the array of titles across from them. They’re definitely reading about the Franklin first.

#otp prompts june 2023 #rizzoli and isles #and that's a wrap for june's prompts #I really should get started on a real story now #also playing within the canon of this episode never gets old #you could go raunchy fluffy angsty #and it all fits #might go rewatch actually

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland request #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader

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yinyangswings · 3 years ago

Text

Hanging off the Ledge

Fandom: Assassin's Creed Unity

Characters: Arno Dorian, Reader, Elise de la Serre (mentioned)

Pairing: Arno x femReader

Notes/Warnings: Implied thoughts of suicide, drinking, mention of vomit, used Google translate for my French so forgive me on that

Word count: 3088

Summary: You knew that there would always be trials when you fell in love with Assassin Arno Dorian. Knew that he had demons within him. What you didn't know was that your own demons would rear their heads at a vulnerable moment after an argument with him. Nor did you know that it would be Arno who finds you standing on the ledge of the South Tower of Notre-Dame, staring down at the streets of Paris.

She wandered around the streets of Paris. The moon mingled with the lamp light, the sound of men singing from the bars, dogs barking, a cat hissing from an alleyway.

She didn’t really notice.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep being reckless like this, Arno!”

“For fuck’s sake Elise, I’m not a child!!”

She frowned, wrapping her arms around herself. The argument itself wasn’t a new one. She thought he was being reckless and he, as usual, didn’t appreciate being coddled. And if she was being truthful with herself, this hadn’t been the first time he had called her Elise by mistake. Right after she had died, he would call her that on a nearly daily basis. She had red hair. Elise had red hair. For a man who had been drinking away his sorrows, it hadn’t been a surprise to get the both of them confused. But as a few years had gone by and he had grieved correctly he had stopped. She had thought, naively apparently, that maybe he was beginning to move on. When they had gotten together she had thought that maybe he actually loved her. That, while Elise would always have some part of his heart, which she had expected, she could share with the ghost of his former lover.

But that seemed like it was a lost cause.

He doesn’t love you. He loves Elise. He’ll always love Elise over you. If he could save her by sacrificing you, he’d do it without hesitation.

She felt her eyes begin to burn and she roughly rubbed under them, pointedly ignoring the voice whispering in the back of her mind, but was pushing into her mind like a nail. She slowed when she found herself in front of Notre-Dame, the large building looming in the square. It wasn’t a church anymore. Some cult now ran it. The Cult of Supreme Being, if she remembered correctly. It was dark, signifying no one was likely in there.

Perfect.

She worked the door open and slid into the shadowed building. She remembered being a child and coming here once with her father and brother. It had been a beautiful cathedral, the stained glass glistening down upon the pews, the statues, the soft hymns of the choir.

She had gotten in trouble for staring too long, but she couldn’t help it. It had been a comfort for her.

It was now a shadow of what it once was. A daily reminder of the mistakes of this country. Of the change that had happened.

Just like you. You’re a mistake.

She found herself walking up the stairs in the back, her footsteps echoing despite being as quiet as she could. Several staircases, unlocking some doors, and climbing more stairs later she found herself in one of the towers, staring at the bells.

It was so quiet, only the wind passing through the room seemed to sing its song. She slid her hand across the one bell near her, feeling the chill of bronze soak into her hand. She jumped when her foot kicked something and she looked down to see a small crate of...wine bottles?

“Oh for God’s sake. Really?” She muttered, bending down to look at it more closely. It looked like someone had had the idea that no one would look for wine in an abandoned church.

Well...at least no one who wasn’t an assassin and knew how to pick locks.

She hesitated for a moment before she flipped the bottle over and looked at the label. It wasn’t even a good year. But it would do. She worked the cork out and took a swig, grimacing at the taste. She took another swig.

You’re useless. It’s no wonder your father died hating your existence. Why your brother died hating you.

And another.

You’re a disgrace to the Creed and the Brotherhood.

And another. The wine tasted bitter and she knew that she should stop, but it was helping with the pain, numbing it.

Arno will never love you. He will never see you as anything more than a replacement.

She coughed violently as she choked on the wine, not able to tell if the burn in her eyes was because of that or something else. She sank back, sniffling slightly and coughing at the burn. The voice was relentless.

Usually she could ignore it, plaster on a smile and carry on her day. But now…

Now…

Wouldn’t it be better if you just ended it?

As though to bolster the suggestion a sharp breeze rushed past her, creating a mournful sound through the tower she was in and she looked towards the opening.

And she took a step forward.

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

Arno Dorian was not in the greatest of moods as he jumped from roof to roof. The argument was still fresh in his mind. He understood Y/N’s point of view on the whole thing, but he felt that he wasn’t a child that needed to be coddled. He was an assassin, just like her. He hadn’t appreciated her scolding him, but looking back it hadn’t been a critique but more of a worry of hers. And he yelled at her, making her leave their room and the Café. Which was why he was running around Paris like a lunatic in the middle of the night looking for her to apologize. He had considered waiting at the Café but after three hours, he began to grow worried. Even at her angriest, she hadn’t been gone that long.

His desperation was growing in stature when she wasn’t in any of her normal spots that she would go to. He was about to head back and see if she had made it back to the Café when the moon peeked out of the clouds and illuminated Notre-Dame. He spotted a flash of red on the top of the South Tower. He stumbled to a stop, looking up, squinting to get a good look, before hurrying over to the church, making short work of getting to the top.

Sure enough it was Y/N, sitting on the railing of the tower. She glanced over her shoulder, before looking back out towards the city.

“Bonjour Arno.”

“There you are.” He huffed, landing on the roof of the tower, a frown on his face. He took a step and blinked as he kicked a wine bottle, watching it roll away from him.

“...Fancy a drink tonight?”

“Casse-toi. Like you’re any better.” Y/N slurred, taking another swig from another wine bottle, swaying slightly in the wind.

“Y/N, get off the ledge.” Arno said evenly, despite his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest. “You’ll fall, Cherié.”

She cackled, though there didn’t seem to be any humor in her voice.

“Wouldn’t that be…” She hiccuped. “Wouldn’t that be une tragédie? I’m sure my funeral would have a grand total of...one attendee; moi! They might even bury me, or they’ll just dump my body into the Seine.”

She laughed again though he frowned.

“Y/N.”

She glared at him, before rolling her eyes, and pointedly ignoring him, taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. She was silent, staring at the few people of Paris wandering around, unaware of the two assassins sitting above them.

“Suppose I’d need to avoid some random passerby though, oui? Can’t...can’t hurt an innocent because of the Creed.”

It was as if cold water had been dumped on him.

She couldn’t mean...she wasn’t seriously considering...

“Y/N, get off the ledge.”

It wasn’t a gentle request anymore. She scoffed, standing like a child who was being called home during a riveting game of tag and didn’t want to. She swayed and stumbled on it, drawing closer to the edge.

“And if I do that by jumping off? No stacks of hay down there that I can see.” She asked good naturedly, her voice amazingly calm.

“Y/N, don’t joke like that.”

“Who’s saying I’m joking?” She hummed, twirling in an unsteady circle, swaying backwards. Arno dashed forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back onto the roof, the bottle falling out of her hand and disappearing over the edge. He could only hope it didn’t hit anyone below as his arms folded around her, holding her close as she began to fight against him.

“Avez-vous perdu la raison?” He snapped. “Why would you even consider killing yourself?!”

“Because the place would be better without me!”

Arno staggered backwards as she kicked at his legs, his mind reeling, trying to catch up with the situation, but unable to comprehend it.

“What are you talking about?! Do you know how devastated we’d be if you died?!”

“Who, Arno? Who would fucking miss me!?” She cried, fighting against him. “My family is gone, Arno! My brother died hating me because of the reason I was even brought into this world! Father hated me because I killed Mother! Name on fucking person who would care if my brains splattered on the steps of Notre-Dame below!”

“Me!”

To that she let out a laugh that could have been a sob.

“You? YOU!?” Her voice went into hysterics. “You don’t give a damn about me! You never did!”

“Y/N, what’s gotten into you!? Of course I-”

“I’M NOT ELISE!”

He went still and he released her in shock. She stumbled away, but didn’t attempt to jump off the ledge again. She seemed to curl into herself, tears sliding down her face as she looked at him.

“You think...you think I’m stupid? Or blind? You don’t think I don’t know that you see Elise every fucking time I fucking turn and you see my hair, or when we spar, or...or argue? You think I’m that blind to not see that ache in your eyes every damn time you even look at me?? For fuck’s sake Arno, you’ve called me her damn name tonight!” She inhaled sharply, trying to stop crying, but failing. His eyes darted from side to side, replaying the argument earlier in his mind, before his eyes widened.

“Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Do you know how much it hurts trying to pretend I’m happy, when I’m reminded daily just how unnecessary and unwanted I am in this world? How much better you and this world would be without me? You want Elise back so much but I’m not Elise. I can’t be her. I can’t even begin to compare to her.” She whimpered. “I’m an assassin, but I was literally only born to be that because my brother was too sickly to be one. And despite that, despite working day in and day out to prove to him I could be a good assassin, I know that my father didn’t even want me! So...so why even bother being here? No one wants me, Arno. I’m just...just this big mistake...I...I…”

“Ma Cherié…” He said, his voice suddenly rough and he hurried over to her, pulling her to him again. She struggled for a moment, beating at his chest to get him to let go. He did not, digging his hand into her hair to keep her still. “Ma Cherié, no.”

“Let go, Arno!”

“No. Not until you listen to me.” He said. “I know I make mistakes. Too many to count. I hurt you so much without even realizing it. And you are the most patient woman to not murder me in my sleep for that.” He trailed off, swallowing noisily, “Oui, there are times I think about Elise, and wonder what life would be if she was still alive, and oui sometimes there are moments where I see her in you.”

She struggled against him again and he thanked the wine running through her right now. At least he could get her to listen to him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’d be better off without you. That I don’t want you here.”

She went still.

“I love you Cherié. I love you so much. You don’t deserve all this pain and weight I’ve put on your shoulders. Especially with Elise. There are similarities between the two of you, but the differences outweigh them. Christ...I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything you give me.”

He moved her head away, cupping her face in his hands, brushing away the tears that were sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t deserve waking up with you curled up to me and if I try to leave the bed, you hold onto me because it’s not yet time to wake up in your mind. I don’t deserve listening to you hum as you’re fixing a stitch in our robes while leaning against me, or your laughter when you’re sparring and you’ve pinned me. I don’t deserve having you scold me for being an idiot on a mission, yet having my back on said mission. I don’t deserve any of that.”

She stared at him and he gave a desperate laugh, his eyes glittering in tears.

“But even though I don’t deserve it, every day you bless me with those tiny memories. How could I be better off without you?”

She inhaled sharply, tears sliding down her cheeks. She let out a soft keening sound, closing her eyes tightly as a sob tore out of her throat, silencing the voice that was begging her to just pivot and jump.

“I can’t Arno...I just...I…I...I don’t know what to do.”

She heard him inhale shakily and felt him kiss her brow. He seemed to be shaking as well. He pulled her back into a hug, and she didn’t resist this time, just sobbing, face pressed into his shoulder.

“...Let’s go home.” His voice whispered into her ear after several minutes, rough as though he was holding back emotions. She nodded weakly, and he lifted her and carried her away. Before she could even object, he was walking down the stairs and past the bells of Notre-Dame.

She didn’t remember how exactly they got back to the Café Theatrë. She did remember having to stop several times in alleyways to puke her guts out from all that damn wine she drank. She remembered that Arno’s touch never seemed to vanish. Whether it was holding her hair away from the vomit, rubbing her back as she heaved, or holding her close to make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face when she stumbled away, he was always touching her.

The last thing she really remembered was going up the stairs to their room, being laid down on the bed and feeling a kiss against her temple. The next thing she knew, the sun was beaming into the room and her head felt like it had been used as a drum.

She let out a groan and curled up under the blanket, trying to rid herself of the headache. Distantly she heard a soft chuckle and then the clink of a cup on the nightstand.

“Can’t say I envy you. I know from experience it isn’t fun. Though this is a change in roles from what I usually remember.” Arno’s voice said softly. She muttered an expletive and peeked her head out from the covers. Arno sat down on the edge of the bed, offering a smile.

“Whatimeizzit?”

“It’s close to noon. I figured with the amount of drinking you did last night, you earned your sleep.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with the blanket again.

“Come on. Let’s get some food into you. I promise you’ll feel much better.”

“If I ever go towards a wine bottle again, you are free to spank me.” She muttered, finally leaving the cocoon of blankets and Arno smiled.

“Oui m'dame. Granted, while it is a tempting offer, I have a feeling that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” He said and she snorted, instantly regretting it and cursed under her breath. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before handing her a pastry.

“Eat.”

She wasn’t really hungry, but nibbled on it anyways, glancing over at him as he watched her. He was just staring at her as though making sure this wasn’t a dream and she was actually sitting in their bed alive and well, despite the hangover. He had dark bags under his eyes, which were curiously bloodshot. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night before. Almost as if he hadn’t...

“Did you stay up the entire night?” She muttered in surprise, realization dawning slowly in her hungover brain.

“...I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and leave to go back to Notre-Dame.” He finally said and she grimaced, looking away.

"Je suis désolé, Arno. I didn’t-”

“No! No, don’t apologize...just...is that the first time you’ve...that you’ve considered that?”

She shrugged.

“I’ve never gone as far as I did last night...but there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying that everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around...I don’t usually listen to it. But it was just...so loud last night. It drowned everything else out.”

“Y/N…”

She shifted away, embarrassed. He swallowed roughly before cupping her face, brushing a thumb against her cheek bone. She leaned into his touch, finally looking up at him.

“If it does happen again, if that voice becomes too loud?” He asked softly. “Find me. I meant what I said last night. I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you. And I’ll spend every day I have remaining telling you that. So find me, and I’ll put to rest any worry you have.”

She nodded, closing her eyes as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then very delicately her lips, before resting his forehead against hers.

It wasn’t a clean fix. There were still problems that needed to be discussed. Issues that needed to be talked about. In the future he would have nightmares of wondering what if he hadn’t gone looking for her, if the next day they had found her body at the steps of Notre-Dame, and waking up in a cold sweat to check and see if she was still there next to him, still breathing. For a while after, she couldn’t go near Notre-Dame, couldn’t even take a sip of wine before her stomach revolted at the contents because it reminded her of that night.

But right then and there, it didn’t matter.

She was sitting there breathing, and in his arms.

And that was all Arno Dorian cared about.

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

Translations:

Bonjour : Hello

Casse-toi: Fuck off

Cherié: Sweetheart

Une tragédie: A tragedy

Moi: Me

Oui: Yes

Avez-vous perdu la raison: Have you lost your mind?

Ma Cherié: My Sweetheart

Oui m'dame: Yes Ma'am

Je suis désolé: I am sorry

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed unity #arno dorian #arno x reader #tw: suicide attempt #tw: mental health #elise de la serre #reader #jamfics #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed headcanon #arno dorian imagine #arno dorian headcanon

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blacktassel · 4 years ago

Text

drunken feelings.

summary: sometimes you need your completely drunk brother to confess your feelings for you

prompt: “is somebody jealous?” (req)

pairing: diluc x gn!reader (feat. kaeya and venti)

word count: ~1.4k

genre/warnings: fluff, humour, sfw, diluc sucks at confessing

It was common knowledge that sometimes Kaeya got a little too drunk.

And when he got a little too drunk, he seemed to bring out an alternate side - or rather, sides - of himself; hidden personas only a bucket of magical alcohol (and the influence an equally drunk bard) could bring out.

You and your fellow barmaid kept a record of every type of drunk Kaeya you’d witnessed; and in the span of your few months working at the Angel’s Share, you’d encountered multiple already.

So far, there was the moody-drunk Kaeya (who’d sulked in a corner for half the night, only to be dragged out by Diluc himself), flirty-drunk Kaeya (who would’ve been more suave if he hadn’t been tripping over his own feet every minute), tearful-drunk Kaeya (who would not stop crying at the bard’s songs) and poet-drunk Kaeya (...never again).

Tonight, it seemed like the Cavalry Captain had had too much to drink again.

“Behold…” Your co-worker says beside you, looking over the wine glasses she was wiping, “the wildcard Kaeya,”

You nod, approving of the label. “His mood’s changed three times tonight. From his usual self to poet to moody to…” You glance at Kaeya in the corner, who now seemed to be dabbing at his eyes. “Teary?”

What sort of new alcoholic drink did Diluc put on the menu?

“You don’t think that bard has got something to do with it? Venti, they called him?” Your co-worker glances at the green figure who was now singing his heart out to a sad ballad - he had half the tavern of drunken citizens and Cavalry Captains swaying and tearing up along with him. You suspect he’s had one too many drinks himself.

“Is it already this rowdy?” You hear Diluc sigh as he comes in through the back door, already shrugging off his coat and holding a hair tie between his teeth. There’s a freshly bandaged cut on his cheek, you notice. You wonder what he gets up to outside of working at the bar; delivering wine and doing business definitely didn’t result in fresh bandages every week. I’ll ask about it later, you decide, pushing the worries to the back, First we’ve got to make sure nobody ends up blacking out.

“Master Diluc, you’re here!” you greet, relieved to see another person who wasn’t drunk beyond his wits. “It’s.. going to be a night, alright. Your brother he’s already...”

Diluc sighed again, tightening his ponytail, which was tied up high tonight. He seems to have grasped the situation already. “I’m going to have a word with the new importers,” He slides you a box of tissues. “Give these to Kaeya… we don't want to have to wipe the tables of tears,”

You nod, carrying over the tissues through a crowd of now quietly weeping drunks and past Venti (who was currently taking a drink break, and looked a little too proud of his influence over the crowd) to the cavalry captain’s table in the corner.

Just as you set the box down on the table, Kaeya flashes you his signature smile. “Ah it’s you! thank you-” He sniffs. “-kind one!” He pulls out a handful of tissues, and blows his nose dramatically; drawing the stares of a now-quiet tavern.

Kaeya is blissfully unaware of the stares and awkward silence, and to make things worse, he lets his head fall face flat onto the table in front of him. Venti chuckles and awkwardly strums his lyre, before starting up his next song.

“Uh.. are you alright, sir Kaeya?” You shake his shoulder gently. He doesn’t stir.

What was in those drinks?

You stand next to him, attempting to wake Kaeya up again as Venti’s next song progresses.

Without warning, Kaeya whips his head up, slightly dazed. “A lo - hic! - love song!” Kaeya babbles out, tears pricking in his eyes again. “Hm. How fitting…” His eyes go to Diluc, who was glancing over, and then to you, before he smirks. “A fool who’s too shy to confess his feelings… and the one he’s in love with,”

You open your mouth to rebut - before you freeze. What was he rambling on about this time? ‘How fitting?’ What was that supposed to mean?

Before you could ask him about the number of drinks he had that evening, he burst out again “Hm. If only you’d notice the way he looks at you… You see, Diluc talks in the looks he gives. Glowers. Hard stares. Rolling his eyes. I’ve been his brother for years and have managed to see a whole range of looks come out of him…” he chuckles to himself as he looks over at Diluc, “...and I’ve never seen that look he gives you, before… It's shy. And hesitant.” He finishes, before hiccuping loudly.

“Uh...” Heat rushes up to your cheeks. Diluc? Harbouring feelings... for you?

Kaeya gestures at you, signalling you to come closer. You make eye-contact with Diluc, who was coming over in your direction with a glass of wine, before awkwardly ducking down next to Kaeya. “And what’s more, did you know that Diluc-”

“Ahem,”

“Oh? We were just talking about you, Diluc,” Kaeya smiles slyly up at his brother, who was clearly sick of Kaeya’s antics. “You see, I’ve noticed your little crush on [name] here-”

“Kaeya. How many drinks have you had?” Diluc interrupted, unfazed.

Kaeya guffaws. “Oh? Trying to change the topic? How classic of you, Diluc,” he places his chin on his palm. “Or.. is somebody jealous? That I was able to confess your own feelings before you?” He sends you a wink. “Trust me, he would have been a saggy old man before he’d ever work up the courage to-”

Diluc swishes the wine glass in his hand, and suddenly that’s all Kaeya cares about. He reaches out, plucking it out of Diluc’s hands. “For me? You shouldn’t have,”

You look at Diluc in shock. What was he thinking? Kaeya was in no position to drink another glass. But before you can stop him, he downs the glass completely.

He spits it out instantly.

“My, you’re cruel.” Kaeya says, “Grape… Juice…”

Oh.

Diluc stands, arms crossed and looking down at Kaeya. You get the feeling that this definitely wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

While Kaeya sits stunned, and deeply offended, you hear someone making their way through the crowd, “Sir? Sir!” a young man bursts through the crowd. He must be a knight. He hauls Kaeya up by slinging an arm around him, who was now descending into wallowing in self-pity.

The knight sighs, looking at his own Cavalry Captain. “Master Diluc was right.. You’ve had too much to drink.” Kaeya scoffs, but now that he was on his feet, he was too disorientated to make a comeback.

It didn’t stop him from trying to get back at his brother, though. As the Captain stumbled past the two of you, he pats your head, and completely dishevels Diluc’s hair, a stupid grin on his face. Diluc doesn’t blink.

After he’s left, Diluc pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Archons…” He turns towards you. “He didn’t… make you uncomfortable at all, did he?” he asks, worried.

“Oh, no! He didn’t. He just… changed his mood pretty quickly,” You let out a laugh. “He really must’ve have had too much to drink, I’ve never seen him like this before,”

He nods in agreement. The two of you stand there, awkward. You shift on your feet, heat pricking at your cheeks, remembering what Kaeya told you.

Diluc coughs, ears now bright red. “About what Kaeya said-”

“Don’t worry about it, it was probably the alcohol speaking-” You rush out, trying to push down any hope you had inside of you. You can’t fathom the idea of Diluc having feelings for you - he’s never had feelings for anyone, as far as you knew.

“It’s true.” Diluc glances at you, before looking down at the floor. “I… have feelings for you,”

Oh. Nevermind.

“You don’t have to accept them; don’t feel obligated to say anything-”

“No, Diluc, it’s okay,” You look up at him, a small smile on your face. “I like you too,”

Tonight’s events must have given you a decent burst of adrenaline, because before you realise it, you go on your tiptoes, and give him a small kiss on the cheek. “We can talk later; we’re on the job still, remember?” And with that, you spin on your heels, and walk back to the bar, heart beating out of your chest.

Diluc’s left standing, stunned, and now bright red.

Behind him, Venti laughs and plucks at a few of his chords playfully. “Is Diluc... speechless?”

Venti was almost never allowed to play at the Angel’s Share after that.

end.

#diluc x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragvindr x reader #genshin imagines #diluc imagines #genshin fics #diluc scenarios #drabble game #but it's a bit longer than a drabble #oops #TAKE A SIP OF WATER EVERYTIME DILUC SIGHS

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theyscreamjade · 4 years ago

Note

hii!! i want to send in a request of the bakusquad + todoroki experiencing a miscarriage with their S/O? i just finished the movie “Up” and i was so sad in the beginning and i began wondering what the characters would be like if they were in the father’s place, and also i absolutely love the way you write angst !

Miscarriages

Disclaimer: Miscarriages, Blood, Drastic Events.

———————————————————————————————————————

* The pregnancy itself was a shocker to many and he’s blessed he put a ring on your finger before knocking you up.

* Momma was about to beat his ass.

* He’s with you every step of the way, rubbing your back while you passed your guts out.

* The first month was hell because you barely ate because of how sick you were. It honestly scared him to see you in such a bad shape, and he had to force you to simply eat a cracker or ice so you won’t be dehydrated. You didn’t have cravings or anything.

* The second month seemed worse though, the nauseous moments were gone but the current issue was cramps. Intense cramps so bad, you’d wake up late at night with it. The heating pads, medication or anything would work.

* Everyone assumed it was simply the baby making room for it or something which you also believed.

* Until you saw blood in your panties one night, the moment you walked out. You looked as if you seen a ghost while trying to wake him up.

* A quick trip to the hospital and the doctor breaks it to you that you had a miscarriage. Bakugo isn’t the type to express his emotions in front of people, but the moment the doctor walks out.

* He’s breaking down. He’s usually the one to be strong for you, but...he couldn’t then. Everything slapped him at once while thousands of questions piled on him.

* Tears roll down his his cheeks as he falls to his knees, anger flows through his veins while sadness drowns his thoughts. What could he have done to prevent this?

* This honestly pains my heart to write this.

* Denki was over the roof when you told him you were pregnant, he was excited! Beyond that. Words couldn’t describe how happy he was.

* He was ecstatic to be a father and to be best father he can be.

* He was with you through every step, all the way to the fourth month.

* You and him stood in the doctors office, awaiting for the gender of your expecting child.

* You prayed for a boy while he wanted to have a electric princess waddling around to do things with.

* When the scanning began though, the doctor’s face became concerned. Her eyes frowned before she looked over at the monitor.

* You didn’t hear the usually swishing noise, the noise you craved to hear as she soon placed you on a stretcher. You were immediately escorted to a hospital which was next door.

* Another doctor did the exact same thing, he even placed a tiny belt around your forming stomach. The minutes that went through while he grazed your stomach with the technology that once blessed you.

* “We...We can’t seem to find a pulse.” He said softly, looking towards your two.

* “W-What?” Denki would say softly, staring at him shocked. “Y-What do you mean you can’t find a pulse?” He’d ask, making sure he heard the man correctly while trying to keep himself together. The moment you burst into tears, sobbing with you.

* It’s honestly painful to see the once bubbly, sweet guy with a heartbreaking saddened look on his face but his hand stayed locked in yours, the whole time.

* Your pregnancy was actually terminated so early, you didn’t have a chance to breathe in the fact that you were pregnant.

* You held the positive pregnancy test in your hands and the moment you told Kirishima after work. You waved it as if it was a lottery ticket

* His eyes nearly popped from his head, his sharky smile was on full display as he hugged you so tightly. He spun your around with happiness in his heart. He couldn’t believe he was fortunate enough to be blessed with a child.

* Unlike others, you didn’t really have the normal issues. You seemed to crave a lot of meat though, more wanting hamburgers and things.

* The first month was a absolute breeze and you didn’t have a ounce of morning sickness, morning problems, or anything. No cramps or nothing

* It was a normal doctors appointment, A simple check-up.

* Kiri wasn’t available at the time because the hero’s had a meeting, but...he’d cancel anything for you.

* The moment his phone rings your ringtone, the only thing you can choke out from your voice is “W-We lost it.”. His eyes were wide and he stood to his feet without a second thought, dashing out of the headquarters.

* He doesn’t care if he’s miles away, in the middle of something. He’s either speeding or running to the doctor’s office.

* He’ll burst into the room and see you holding the now negative test along with a few other things. Papers containing what to do afterwards and how to mend your pain though it wouldn’t fix your broken heart.

* He’ll pull you in for a tight hug, sobbing with you as he lets the emotions flow out of you and him. He’d hold you so tightly, sobbing into your shoulder while you cried into his chest inside the quiet doctor’s office.

* The moment you told Mina you wanted to have a kid with her, She was jumping for joy.

* She loves kids and couldn’t deny it.

* You offered yourself since she was a pro-hero and you wanted your future child to see how great their mother is.

* It took a while to pick a donor, decide on one, do the procedure and wait. That took the longest of all, You had to wait until your eggs were fertile and ready for everything.

* Sis knew before you knew that you were pregnant. When started smelling how sweaty she was or how she was around Bakugo or Kirishima, it was a dead giveaway.

* When you took the test, Boom. Positive.

* She went to Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and more posting about the growing family with excitement in her heart.

* Almost a month into it, She began making big plans. She was looking at houses so you two could leave the apartment you two shared. Pre-ordering cribs, baby chairs, baby changing tables. She had a Pinterest labeled ‘Future Baby Room.’

* Almost into month two, You began having cravings. She was devoted to the mother role, whatever you ate, she ate. Pickles and ice cream, Popcorn with caramel and siracha, hamburgers and strawberries. She was down for it all.

* Nothing was expected though, It just swung at you like a pile of bricks.

* You were cleaning up the kitchen when a rush of pain stung you so hard, you let of a cry that scared Mina. She rushed to your side and held you as you felt something wet between your legs.

* She placed you into the car without checking and sped to the hospital. Once admitted, Dozens on dozens of tests were done of you. So many that almost worried her. She tried to keep you happy but even she began to worry.

* When the doctor walked in, she had an expression she’d never forget. “I’m sorry, It seems as if you had a miscarriage.” Your heart shattered, refusing to look at your wife while guilt rushed through you.

* You couldn’t give her the one thing she deserved. The moment her hand touched yours, You couldn’t hold it in. You sobbed as she sobbed with you, thinking about the little angel that was gone now.

* Your pregnancy was perfect timing for everything that happened.

*You just got married, came back from your honeymoon and was able to enjoy married life for a minute

* You felt sick for a few days and it struck you one day to just check and see, Your eyes nearly popped out when you saw the infamous two lines.

* You didn’t wait a second though, You nearly speared Sero down and waved the test in his face. Tape boy was over the moon about it, he was more than excited! He was going to be a dad and be the best one yet.

* He always held your hair, rubbed your back, kissed your forehead and made sure you were hydrated after your morning sickness.

* He was a pro at midnight, midday and early morning cravings. He didn’t care if he had to drive across town for it. He’d do anything for his tiny bean.

* Pregnancy tracker was his favorite because he was so excited to know about the little bean that was waiting to be brought out. When you began to form a bit, He admired you. He dropped down and placed kisses all over your stomach while talking to the little thing.

* Around the end of your third month however, You began to have intense pains. It started out minor but increased rather fast.

* Sero hated to leave you alone that morning, He tried to call out and have someone take it but you told him you were fine and he should go.

* Which he did but never stopped checking his phone. Every minute, he glanced for a message, ringtone, something.

* When your ringtone did ring, he snatched it and answered. He heard the whimper in your voice, the scattered and static chatter and lastly the siren.

* He didn’t hesitate to leave that minute, He sped to the hospital. He barely parked the car and rushed inside. He walked in and told the nurse who he was. It sent chills down his spine when they said you were in surgery.

* Minutes turned to hours as the Baku-squad came to keep him company, to keep a smile on his face. Your name was announced and the minute she said “I’m sorry, She had a miss-” He shuts down.

* “Where is she?” He asked softly as his feet rushed to you before she could say the last number fully. The door sung open as your eyes connected and emotions flowed. You sat on the edge of the bed with a breathing machine on your nose as he hugged you, his hiccupped cries finally coming out while you cried in his arms. Your hearts broken by the bean you lost.

* Shoto is usually prepared for the unexpected like your relationship, marriage an so on.

* He wasn’t expecting to even be married and here he was. Happily married to you.

* The poor man wasn’t ready for the announcement though. It was a mixture of bad timing and horrible bluntness.

* Iida was pranked by his girlfriend so when you told him, He basically asked “Are you joking?”

* Poor man had to sleep on the couch for only three hours before you gave in and let him sleep in the bed again. It took that and kisses to get you to forgive him.

* Now, Shoto was prepare physically but mentally he was terrified. He didn’t want to make a mistake and screw up. He doesn’t want to bare the burden his father did to him and his family.

* Was he even capable of handling a little one?

* Two months in though, when he saw your stomach forming a little bump. He couldn’t help but feel excitement through his worries. He was going to be a father, a parent. He wasn’t alone, he knew you’d help him through every step.

* Like Sero’s though. It happened in a instant. At your baby shower no less, Fuyumi was on high alert. You was gorgeous from head to toe and yet you had the most uncomfortable look on your face.

* You couldn’t wiggle, sit, or walk it away. You wanted to ease it somehow but it didn’t seem to work.

* The mere minute you were about to discover the gender of the child, you blacked out.

* Natsuo luckily caught you before you touched the ground. When you opened your eyes, you felt the blinding lights of the hospital shining down on you. A soft moan slipped out as the pain was gone, but something was wrong.

* As if it was a signal or something, Shoto rushed to you and kissed your head. He was happy to see that you were okay, awake to say the least. It took a few minutes until the doctor walked in and finally laid the news on you. “I-I sincerely apologize but...You had a miscarriage, Mrs. Todoroki.” He said as Fuyumi gasped.

*You shook your head in disbelief, there’s no way. Everything was fine. You were fine. They were fine! The more you shook your head the more tears rolled. You hands gripped the side rails before you let out a scream in agony. The fire alarm was triggered, causing the water to spray down.

* Smoke hissed from Shoto was ice crystals were on the floor, He was frozen as his emotions and quirk couldn’t be contained. Questions rolled through his mind as each second seemed long, tears rolled down his cheeks as Nastuo snatched his brother into a hug while Fuyumi held you in her arms. Shoto wasn’t prepared for a tragedy like this.

#my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #i hope you like this #bnha angst #bnha shoto x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha mina x reader #bnha sero x reader #bnha kirishima x reader #bnha denki x reader

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angeliise · 3 years ago

Text

Day 14 - Within These Dreams

A/N - Damn this One-Shot gave me hell. I feel like I was all over the place hahaha. Hope you enjoy and happy belated Day 14 :3

Word count: 3457

It is within these dreams that I feel loved.

It is within these dreams that you give me a reason to live.

It is only within these dreams that I can be me.

It is only when I'm within these dreams where her hair wasn't a curse.

“I like your hair.” They said.

“Y-you do?” Hinata asked.

They nodded. They reached a hand out to her. Hinata was hesitant as this person was… blurry.. She couldn’t make out their features. She could barely make notice of their hair, their clothes, their skin… their face… their voice. She did not know how she managed to understand them.

Her hand slowly clapped over theirs, and she was met with a tight squeeze followed by a pull.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked again, this time stopping them from taking her further.

The person looked behind her and smiled.

“Your hair is a blessing.”

“H-huh?”

“Your hair is a part of who you are.”

“W-Why are you tell-telling me this?”

“Your hair-”

“-is a disgrace.”

It wasn’t often that her father would pay her any mind. But when he did it-

“No one will want to be around you when you look like a boy.”

-when he did-

“Your haircut is an insult to the Hyuuga family.”

-- when he di-

“No one wants to be seen with you with that haircut!”

-- when he d- her breath hitched. Her throat threatened to heave again, so she quickly slapped her tiny hand over it.

Silence.

Silence was all there was as Hiashi looked down at her petite figure. A figure that was continually trembling from the constant hiccups that she tried so hard to suppress. Her cheeks were drowning in warm tears, and the hand covering her mouth was dripping those tears down to her kimono. She had nothing to hide. She could not hide. There was nothing she could use to hide the sullen face from the disapproving look of her father. Noth-

“Leave.”

___________________________

Her hair was a blessing. Her hair was a part of who she was.. Her hair- A tear slid down her cheek again. It had been the only sensation to bring her any warmth since she left her home. Where she was, she didn’t know. She was on a path far into the forests of Konoha. Far away from her home. Far away from the place that labelled her a disgrace upon birth. Far away from the place she brought shame to. Far away from-

“Watch out!”

As she swung in the direction of the voice, her vision went blank.

___________________________

She just wanted to disappear. She could do nothing but wallow in her own tears -- pathetic tears. Tears that reinforced that one thing she had been condemned all her life for: weakness. Her sleeves were drowned, her palms became slippery around her face and her kimono had long been drenched in her tears. What more was there left of her?

What more could she do to stop the tears?

Hinata felt a comforting chill run down her spine. Imminent footsteps were nearing her, and as she raised her head she saw the toes of someone. Her swollen eyes followed from the tip of his toes to the bandages covering his shins and the-

“Don’t cry -- don’t cry, I said…..” Hinata heard nothing from that point because-- because she could make out the movement of his mouth and… his skin.

He was pale.

He was the only one that had complimented her hair. He had been the only one to call her hair a blessing and not a curse -- he? It was a he! It was-

“Wh-Who are-”

She felt the softness of his thumb on her lips. Her eyes wandered away from the tip of his thumb to his face again. This time she saw bangs -- raven bangs. And- she sensed a banging sensation on the left side of her head. She winced and grabbed the side, hoping the pain would subside.

A warm palm lay upon her hand. She looked up again and before the whiteness engulfed them, she saw the corners of their mouth face upwards.

He smiled at her.

“I like your hair.”

____________________

“Oi, oi! Are you okay? Oi!” Obsidian eyes were staring down at Hinata’s bruised face with immense worry.

Sasuke had not wanted to shake her, in any case it would be worse for her. He had been scrambling for things to do but he found himself simply sitting on his knees, by her side. Itachi that bastard! Throwing the ball so far that even Sasuke had to run through a river for.

Hmph! This was his fault. Yeah, that’s right. It was his fault and- “Nn.”

“Huh?... Oi.” He gently placed his hands on her shoulder. In a quieter tone he said, “are you okay?”

His eyes were purer than any snowflake he had ever seen. Although he had seen a Hyuuga before, he had never sensed such kind and gentle eyes before. He saw him wince and place a hand on the left side of his face. “Here? Is it here?”

He grabbed her wrist and slowly removed it from her face to check for any open wounds.

There were none. He looked back at him. As his mouth parted, he heard the voice of his brother from afar.

“Sasuke! Here you are. Sorry-”

“Look what you did! You threw the ball so far and hit him in the face.” Sasuke dramatically gestured to Hinata sitting up.

.........

Itachi raised an eyebrow. “Him?”

“Yes, him!”

Itachi looked at Hinata, which made her heart skip a beat. He grinned. “Take a closer look, silly.”

This time it was Sasuke who tilted his head in confusion. “Why would I…”

He turned his attention to Hinata -- closing the distance between the two so that the tip of their noses nearly touched. Hinata slightly jumped, trying to maintain her compo- her cheeks were burning!

“A girl?”

She gave him a stiff nod. She saw his eyes fall before raising them to her level again. “Sorry, for hurting you.”

Hinata’ lips parted but words failed to escape. She- She couldn't’ process the situation. Where was she? What had happened? How did she end up here? These were questions she should be asking herself. But what she really wanted to know-- what she was burning to find out -- was who this person was. And… Why did he sound so familiar?

“You’re Hinata, right? Heir to the Hyuuga Clan.” Such a calm composure. She had seen it before. She had seen it in her father and Neji. But they lacked the kindness behind their words and demeanour.

“Y-Yes.”

Itachi -- what the boy had called him, reached his hand out to her. She took it with no hesitation and raised herself up with the help of Itachi. He patted down her kimono and checked her head for any bruises like the other one had done. He nodded to himself.

“Doesn’t seem like there are any open wounds, how are you feeling? Does it hurt anywhere?”

She was lying when she nodded. The pain on her left side still prevailed but she didn’t care. Being in their care, their presence was enough to lessen the hurt. And that hurt wasn’t from the ball-

The boy exclaimed a loud sigh. “Where are we anyway? Why did you have to kick the ball so far away, Itachi?!”

Itachi chuckled. “Well, you’ll have to find your way back home someway.”

“Me?!”

“Yes you, Sasuke.”

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. “What do you- wait!”

*Poof*

…..

His brother had seriously abandoned him out in the middle of nowhere. He-- sighed. He didn’t know where to begin. Where to start. Where to- he heard a whimper sounding from behind. He looked over at Hinata whose head was facing the ground.

“Oi, what’s wrong?”

__________________________

It was him. It was him.

“I like your hair.”

His voice. The bandage around his shins.

“Your hair is a blessing.”

The colour of his hair, his bangs.

“Your hair is a part of who you are.”

His pale skin.

“S-Sasuke...” She whispered to herself.

“What?” Or so she thought.

Hinata shook her head vigorously. “N-Nothing. It’s-” Her words were failing to pass the lump in her throat. All she could do was swallow the tears and lump as deep as she could-

“Don’t cry- don’t cry. I said I was sorry.”

Hinata shook her head from left to right. She did it again, this time slower. She did it again, and again, and again until-

“Oi.” His voice resonated through her mind. When she looked up she saw his hand stretched out. “Here, take my hand. Don’t worry, you don’t have to be scared -- I’m here. .”

Her eyes shot from his eyes to his hand and then back at his eyes again. And although they were trembling, her hand reciprocated-

“No one wants to be seen with you with that haircut!”

Her hand retreated. Her eyes fell from his again as she whispered. “It’s okay…”

“I like your hair.”

Hinata shook his voice out of her head. It was a dream. It had all been a dream. A dream that wasn’t bound to be a reality…

She didn’t see his reaction. She didn’t have to. She knew that it was for the best. By the time they reach Konoha he would separate from her anyway and pretend like he didn’t know her. After all, a Hyuuga with short hair wasn't a Hyuuga worth the pride, prestige and honour.

Sasuke looked back at Hinata. “You don’t have to walk so far behind, you know.”

Nothing.

Sasuke groaned, and in a split second found himself in front of Hinata. He watched as the heiress let out a tiny gasp. “It would be dangerous if you got lost, stay close to me.”

“I-I.. It’s fine. I-”

“No,” Sasuke grabbed her hand, rather roughly. “It is not. Stay close to me.”

The tears were starting again. Hinata took her other hand and slapped it in front of her mouth to hide her- she wheezed. His eyes were upon her so quickly that all she could do was wave her free hand to signal that she was okay. It was to no avail as their footsteps had stopped and Sauske had fully turned around to her.

Hinata’s lips parted in a final attempt to assure Sasuke that she is okay. Or was okay. His palm, his pleasant and soft palm, was on her cheek. His thumb dried the tears on her left side. His other hand quickly followed and dried the tears on the other side.

“Please,” he spoke, continually rubbing away at her cheeks that had long dried up, “don’t cry.”

Sasuke’s glare lingered on her for a while before his forehead was upon hers. “I’m right here. So please,” he locked his eyes with hers, “don’t cry anymore.”

___________________________

*Streets of Konoha*

It was for the best. She couldn’t burden him by being seen with her. She couldn’t risk-

Don’t cry- don’t cry.

“Hic.” She wiped the incoming tears. She felt no malice in his attempt to make her not cry. Instead, she could sense worry in his voice as he said. How could she even think he was being malicious when-

Sorry, for hurting you.

A weak weep escaped her throat. He had been so kind to her in the little time they had been in each other’s vicinity that she wanted to see him again. She wanted to- She wanted to be his-

“No one wants to be seen with you with that haircut!”

“-friend!”

“What was that?”

“Isn’t that-”

“Why does she not grow out her hair?”

“Shhh… i think she heard you.”

Embarrassed to find that she was in the heart of the Konoha market, Hinata dashed through the people and found herself somewhere around the academy. She was walking alongside the benches and saw a couple of her classmates. She looked away quickly as she saw how they went their fingers through their waist-length hair.

“Did you hear? Did you hear?” One spoke.

As she walked past them her mind drifted back to Sasuke, and how she wished to see him again to try and… befriend him. He seemed nice enough. He seemed to not mind her hair. He seemed to not-

The other giggled. “Is it about Sasuke?”

…..

Hinata’s footsteps came to a halt.

“Yes! I couldn’t believe it either.”

Hinata nervously chewed on her lower-lip over the anticipation for what they were going to say.

“To think that he likes girls with long hair! Who would have thought? His mother has long hair as well. And so do I. It was meant to be!”

“Not with that big forehead of yours.”

“Well, excuse me!”

……

Her shoulders felt a slight tuck as she continued walking. Of course, he did.

“No one will want to be around you when you look like a boy.”

She rubbed the back of her neck.

Of course, he did...

______________________________

*Uchiha Compound*

The sliding doors were shut open by a disgruntled Sasuke. Itachi looked up from his desk and gave him a small smile.

“Oh, Sasuke. You’re back.”

Sasuke scoffed. “No thanks to you.”

Sasuke flopped onto his brother’s bed, shifting to the side that faced the window. The curtains were pulled and the light from the moon nearly blinded Sasuke, yet he continued to stare. He stared into the blinding abyss. It sucked him into a profound state of calmness. The moon’s aura was so calming and pure that he couldn’t stop thinking about-

“Why is she like that?”

“Which fangirl is it now?”

Sasuke, remaining in his position, said. “No.”

“You mean, Hinata?”

Sasuke nodded. He heard Itachi place his pencil down, and look his way. “It can’t be helped. She keeps her hair short..”

“So what about it?”

Sigh. “The Hyuugas are prideful, just like us. But they show and honour them in different ways.”

Sasuke blinked. Itachi continued. “Hinata keeping her hair short is seen as a dishonour to their clan-”

“Her hair!” He yelled, rising to his feet. “There’s nothing wrong with her hair!”

____________________________

“You shouldn’t fall asleep in a place like this.”

Laughters of joy echoed into the realms of her mind. She had never felt this much happiness since she was born. She never knew such levels of happiness existed. Or that she could ever achieve it in her lifetime. But here she was, laughing with her friend whom she hadn’t given a name to. He was a friend that resembled a boy she had once seen but… they weren’t the same. Her friend was different. Her friend didn’t think of her as a burden, a disgrace, a waste.

No.

He… liked her. He never distanced himself from her. In fact he would fight to stay right by her side. But it was only within her dreams that he existed. It was only within her dreams that she could love, touch and feel the spirit of her friend whom she knew cherished her. It was only within these dreams that-

“You know you can find me outside this realm, right?”

Hinata raised her brows. “Eh?”

Although he looked like Sasuke, he wasn’t Sasuke. He wasn’t-

I’m right here. So please, don’t cry anymore.”

Here, take my hand.

Don’t worry, you don’t have to be scared.

She saw him nod. Hinata shook her head vigorously. “No…”

“Hinata.”

“No.” She blocked her ears. “No. No…! I want you to exist but,” she looked at him, “you don’t.”

The downward smile told her that she had upset him. But before she could reach for him her entire world shook.

___________________________

Hinata opened her eyes to feel her cheek being nibbled on by a moist sentient. She blinked twice before realising that she was surrounded by the ducks she had come to feed. “Huh?”

Her fingers pinched the bread piece in her hand. She had fallen asleep, but how- “You shouldn’t fall asleep in a place like this.”

“Eh?!” Hinata sat up, scaring the ducks away. As she rose up she found a fan symbol facing her.

“Sa-Sasuke-kun?”

He turned his head around. His face was in a frown. “What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous.”

Hinata blinked again. “I… I don’t- I was feeding the ducks.”

Sasuke looked at the bags of bread and the piece in her hand. “Seems like they aren’t interested.”

The corner of her lips threatened to lift. She wanted-- she lifted her sleeve to cover for the tiny smile that arose on her face. “Doesn’t that apply to you as well?”

Sasuke scoffed. “I’m older than you. I can handl-”

“How old are you?”

Sasuke shot her a death glare. “It’s rude to interrupt-”

“I’m 7 years old-” - “Oi!”

….

Her sides were tingling and her throat was itching to- “Ha ha ha!”

“Hmph! And here I thought I would-” In a split second, Hinata was upon him. Her bangs covered her eyes but Sasuke felt an area of his shirt stick to him.

“Don’t leave me.” She uttered into the silence of the air.

Hinata felt a pair of hands on her shoulder. “And if I do?”

Her petite figure trembled like never before. She didn’t want to- She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to be his friend. He had shown her so much kindness in the little time they spent together. What he did for her in the forest was something she thought no one would ever do for her. What he did for her- from drying her tears away, holding her hand, rubbing foreheads -- What he said to her-

To think that he likes girls with long hair!

Long hair!

It was too good to be true, she thought. Heh, it was too good to be true after all.

“No one will want to be around you when you look like a boy.”

Too good.

“Your hair is a disgrace.”

Her hold on him loosened.

“No one will want to be around you when you look like a boy.”

Too good to be true, right?

“Your haircut is an insult to the Hyuuga family.”

She took a step back and cleaned her kimono

“No one wants to be seen with you with that haircut!”

It was too good to expect anyone to like her hair, to like her… right?

She turned around. Right?

Sasuke took hold of her wrist. “Where are you-”

“You don’t need to pretend anymore!!” She roared

Sasuke groaned. “What are you talking about?!”

“I know I’m not worth the trouble!” She cried as she tried to pull away from Sasuke.

“And I’m asking you, what are you talking about?!”

Her voice cracked. “My father has always told me,” her breath heaved, “that my hair would never- gulp- never attract anyone!”

“But I-”

“No one would ever want to be seen with me in public because of my hair! My hair is a disgrace to the Hyuuga Clan. My hair is a curse-” - “Hinata, I-” “My hair-!”

“I like your hair!”

The leaves danced along to the wind, and the sounds of ruffled feathers echoed the atmosphere. Hinata had stopped resisting and was instead stunned in place.

“Your hair is not a curse. It’s a blessing.”

Her eyes widened beyond what she could comprehend.

Your hair is a blessing.”

“Your hair is what makes Hinata, Hinata.” The moment she looked back she saw the corners of Sasuke’s lips face upwards.

Sasuke felt his cheeks heat at her intense stare, and looked down as a result. “And whoever told you otherwise is a liar.” He mumbled to himself.

“D-D-Did you really mean that?”

Sasuke smirked. He went from holding her wrist to tangling his fingers with hers. He went in front and looked back at her. “Come with me.”

“E-Eh?”

Hinata did not have time to process as she was being pulled away from the ducks and back to Konoha. When she saw the gates, she instinctively tried to pull away but Sasuke’s grip held firm in her hands. “S-Sasuke-kun?”

His only response was another smirk.

And so they walked. They walked the streets of Konoha with eyes plastered on them. At least that is what Hinata could tell from many whispers and gasps she heard as her head was glued to her toes. She could not look up, no matter-

“Is that Hiashi?”

Her face shot up. No… She could hear it. She could hear his voice, and they were telling her to look away from him. They were telling her how she should be ashamed of herself. They were telling her how much her hair was making her look a fool in front of all these people. They were telling her-!

“I like your hair!”

And just like that, her vision was back on Sasuke who continued to walk.. She inhaled deeply as the sounds of her father’s footsteps neared. She exhaled, keeping a firm look ahead. Her eyes directed back at her father which resulted in his eyebrows raising.

Your hair is a blessing.”

Her hair was a blessing, a message her eyes transferred over to her fathers as the two walked past him.

“Your hair is a part of who you are.”

“Hinata,” Hinata tilted her head to see the side of his face. Sasuke smiled at her. “Let’s be friends.”

Hinata smiled. Her smile grew wider and wider to the point where she couldn’t feel her cheeks. “Yes,” she nodded while giving his hand a tight squeeze.

Let’s be friends.

@sasuhinamonth

#sasuhina #shmonth2021 #sasuhinamonth #sasuke uchiha #hyuugahinata

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pilothusband · 4 years ago

Text

it’s in my honey, it’s in my milk

Rating: G

Pairing: Frankie Morales x reader

Warnings: HOLY ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST. Grief, hurt/comfort, mentions of loss and death (doesn’t get specific as to who it is), wine is mentioned once but not ingested. This one is really heavy folks, just be warned.

Word count: 1.1k

Description: Grief is an ever-present, all-encompassing emotion that swallows up everything in its path and dulls the senses. Frankie does all he can to help you navigate it, but he can only do so much when you start to break away from him.

Author’s note: Without getting too into it, I lost an incredibly important person recently. I wrote this to process my grief, conceptualize it and find a way to accept small comforts, even on the bad days. If this subject matter is too heavy for you, please don’t feel pressured to read it.

Sometimes the darkness threatened to swallow you where you stood, like the floor was going to open up underneath you. There was a person-shaped hole in your heart that couldn’t be replaced. There wasn’t any other kind of pain in the world that was comparable to this.

You had been dating Frankie for about 6 months now, and he knew what you had been through in the last year. He was endlessly patient with you on your bad days. Despite Frankie’s best efforts to cheer you up and support you through your grief, you still felt like you were drowning, unable to muster the energy to kick your way back up above the surface.

The grief normally came in waves. You would have a bad day here and there, but bounce back fairly quickly. This wave seemed to stretch on for weeks, just how it had been when the loss was fresh. Every morning your body felt like it was filled with rocks, you couldn’t get out of bed. You were so tired, so weary to the bone, that eventually you gave up trying.

The worst part of it was the toll it took on Frankie. Sweet, steadfast Frankie, who was the strongest person you knew, who deserved the entire fucking world. He could sense you had pulled away, hell, you sensed it too despite the permanent haze you were suspended in.

You saw the pain bloom within him– there was the constant furrow in his brow, the furtive glances when you fell quiet, the way he chewed on his lip when you looked down at your feet. He did small things to put a smile on your face. He bought you flowers on his way to your apartment to brighten up your kitchen table for your dinner date. It was an arrangement of wildflowers and they bursted with hues of purple, orange and pink. One night he picked up a bottle of full-bodied red wine because he saw the dog on the label and he knew how much you loved dogs (and wine).

He didn’t deserve this treatment. He didn’t deserve to be dragged down into the rip tide.You had become a vacuum, or a black hole, sucking up everything around you until there was nothing left. It would be unforgivable to snuff out his light just because you had lost yours. You started reaching out less. Texts went unanswered, calls silenced.

“This is for the best,” you thought, arms clutched around your knees, curled up inside yourself. You picked at a thread on the cushion by your feet, briefly visualizing the entire couch unravelled, the insides of it spilled all over your living room floor.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there, staring at the loose thread when you snapped out of it, jarred by the sound of the lock on your front door, followed by a gust of wind as the heavy wood swung open. Frankie stood in the entry; he held the spare key you had given him a couple months ago in his shaking hands.

He looked disheveled, more so than usual. His orange and tan flannel shirt was wrinkled and his beloved baseball cap was nowhere to be seen. His hair was a wild tangle of curls perched atop his head that fell down in sections on his forehead. He must have tugged on his hair on the drive over, something he did often when he was distressed.

He closed the door gently to prevent it from slamming shut, carefully walked over to where you were huddled against the arm of your couch, and lowered himself to his knees to appear smaller, as if he thought he was going to frighten you.

“Frankie,” you croaked, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You couldn’t do this.

Frankie placed his hand on your knee and squeezed it lightly. His hand was large and warm as it wrapped around your leg, a familiar and reassuring touch that tethered you to the moment.

His other hand touched your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze. You felt a stab of agony deep in your chest as you looked into his dark eyes, rimmed with moisture. He looked absolutely wrecked, the expression on his face was open and raw, as if you had just slapped him. You were startled by how exposed he looked, normally he was stoic and pensive.

“If you’re doing this because you don’t want me around, I’ll leave. No questions asked,” He said, his voice firm, despite the tremble in his lip. “But if you’re doing this because you feel guilty, I’m staying here with you through it all.”

The tears cascaded down your face in fat droplets. Your throat burned from the fire that was ignited in your chest.

“I can’t keep doing this to you.” You sobbed, unable to hold in the deluge any longer as you hiccuped into his shoulder. Tears soaked through his flannel shirt as he rubbed soothing circles on your back and held you through it.

“Baby,” Frankie cradled the back of your head and leaned back so you could see him. His eyes searched yours out, watery and soft. “You have to stop beating yourself up like this. I’m here for you for all of it, not just the fun parts.”

You had spent so much time picturing your grief as a blanket that smothered everyone around you, when in reality the only person who was smothered was you.

Frankie placed a tender kiss on your forehead. You gasped at the warm feeling that pulsed through you from the gesture.

Frankie shifted to stand and used the cushion in front of him as leverage. His knees cracked a little at the effort and he grunted.

“I’m going to make you a cup of tea, grab that soft blanket you love and some tissues, and I want you to tell me all about them if you’re up for it. Anything you want to talk about– the good and the bad.”

You swallowed painfully around the lump in your throat and nodded as you gave him a frail smile. Frankie gave you one in return, wide and genuine.

“That’s my girl.” He squeezed your shoulder and set off to the kitchen to fill up the kettle.

You sat there for a moment and slowly unfurled your limbs like a flower in early spring.

You didn’t know what you did to deserve Francisco Morales, but you knew deep in your bones that you found each other by cosmic intervention, as if someone had searched him out for you and ensured he would stumble into your path. You were certain you knew who was behind it. A fresh set of tears escaped from your eyes as you whispered a quiet “thank you,” hoping wherever they were, they heard you.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #francisco morales pilot of my heart

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all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years ago

Note

Hi. Can you pls do something in the shy little boy universe where Harry is overwhelmed with work and snaps at Artemis. So Artemis stops talking to him and Harry apologises. Thnx a lot

my first time writing angst for my shy little boy universe, hope you like it!

you can find more of my shy little boy here

2020.

It has been an overwhelming past few weeks.

With the whole situation in the world going on right now, Harry has been forced to reschedule his whole tour. That meant he's been constantly on the phone, having meetings with his label and entire crew to figure out the new dates as soon as possible.

He barely sleeps anymore and is stressed pretty much every day. Y/N knew to let him be and not bother him while he was like this, she also understood the amount of pressure he must be feeling right now.

But Artemis didn't.

He barely sees his daddy anymore, and he misses him. He was also bored to dead. Now, he's a smart boy who knows how to make himself busy and can play alone just fine, however he wanted to play with his daddy.

Y/N offered to play with him, but Artemis declined her offer. Something he never does, by the way.

"Where's daddy?" He asked, entering to the master bedroom where Y/N was folding the laundry.

"I think he's in his office, honey"

"Is he gonna go out soon?"

"I'm not sure. He's busy"

Artemis hopped off the bed, walking out of the room and straight to Harry's office.

He opened the door gently and poked his head into the room. "Daddy?"

"Not right now, baby. I'm busy" Harry said, not even looking up from his computer. He was waiting for an important call from Jeff and couldn't get distracted right now.

"But daddy, i wanna play" Artemis said, now entering the room completely.

"I told you, i'm busy. We can play when i finish"

"You said that yesterday" The six year old frowned. "I wanna play now"

"Jesus christ, Artemis! I told you i'm busy!" Harry slammed his palm on the desk. "Stop being a brat, bloody hell"

Artemis stood there, not sure of what to do as Harry has never spoken to him like that, let alone slammed his hand on something making such a horrendous noise.

Harry sighed, passing his palms through his face and calming down. He stood up and began to walk towards his son, however, as soon as he got up from his chair, Artemis ran out of the room, scared.

He was going to go after him, he really was, but at that moment his phone started ringing and he had no choice but to close the door again and take the call.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

Artemis ran as fast as his legs allowed him, going straight to where Y/N was and closing the door behind him.

"Hey, why do you look so scared?" She stopped her actions, looking at her son who might as well be shaking.

"Daddy"

"Did something happen? Is daddy okay?" at first Y/N thought something happened to Harry, and tried to open the door but Artemis wouldn't let her.

"He was mean, mum" he mumbled, tears finally falling from his precious eyes.

"What do you mean?"

The boy tried to explain the situation the best he could, through sobs and hiccups. Y/N sighed, embracing her son to take him to the couch in the room. She placed him on her lap and started cooing at him.

Screaming and slamming things was definitely not something he was used to, so she couldn't blame him for being like this. So she let him cry on her chest, let it all out so he could be calmer when Harry came to apologize.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

After Harry hung up with Jeff, he felt relieved for a moment, knowing that was the last call from the day.

But then he remembered the way he acted with Artemis, and his pulse started to rise again. He knew he crossed a line, and lost his temper and that was not okay.

But he didn't quite know how to fix it. Artemis was a kind boy, but he wasn't the forgiving type. Harry hopped he could do an exception for his dad though.

First he went to his room and he found it empty. He frowned, walking now to his and Y/N's room and tried to open the door. His frown deepened when he couldn't.

"Did you locked the door?" Harry heard Y/N's voice from the other side, then a couple of whispers and steps.

She unlocked the door, opening it so Harry could enter. "He's very upset" she said to him.

"I know, i was an idiot" Harry sighed, looking around the room for his baby. "Where is he?"

"On the... he was on the couch" Y/N paused, noticing Artemis wasn't where she left him.

The only other spot he uses to hide was the closet, so they walked towards it and found the door half opened.

"I'll step out and you are gonna fix this"

Y/N left Harry on his own on this one, knowing it was his mess and wasn't really in the mood to be in the middle of it so she went and returned to her previous task, still being able to listen to what they were saying.

Not that Artemis was saying much. He flinched away from Harry when he opened the door, and refused to look at him.

"Baby... Artemis, please. I'm so sorry, okay? didn't mean to scare you, i swear"

The smaller boy only hiccups in response, closing his eyes to not look at his father.

"Please forgive me, baby. We can go play now, we can play as much as you want" He tried again, moving closer to Artemis.

Before Harry could touch him, he stood abruptly. "No!" Artemis yelled, running out of the closet and to his mum, where he hid behind her legs.

Harry's heart dropped to his stomach and he felt like throwing up. Was his little boy scared of him? He's never done nothing like this before, but then again Harry has never spoken to him like that either.

His son only wanted to play with his daddy and Harry snapped. Oh, what a mistake it was.

Y/N gave him a half smile, feeling sorry for him. Yeah, perhaps Harry was out of line but she knew he didn't mean what he said, it was just the stress speaking.

"C'mon, let's go to your room" Y/N held his small hand. She gave Harry a little nod, silently telling him she'd talk to their son.

Harry sat on the bed, his hands passed through his hair aggressively. He felt the tears in the corner of his eyes ready to spill. It was the first time Artemis was this upset at him, yeah he's been mad at Harry before but never has refused to talk to him, or flinched away from his touch.

The last thing he wanted was for his son to be scared of him.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

When Harry approached Artemis' room down the hall, he noticed the door half opened so he got in as quiet as possible.

He heard water splashing and voices in the bathroom connected to Artemis' room. His heart broke when he realized it was bath time, and he wasn't there for it.

Harry was an absolute sucker for bath time, it was his time to bond with his son after a tiring day. They always had so much fun with the bubbles and multiple toys Harry allowed him to get in the tub.

But this time he knew Artemis didn't want him there, so he waited outside of the bathroom. He noticed Y/N forgot to bring his clothes into the bathroom and he didn't like the thought of Artemis catching a cold, so he grabbed the folded pj's and went to knock the bathroom door.

"Hey" Y/N said, offering him a smile. "I talked to him, he's calmer"

"You forgot his clothes, love" he passed them to her. "Do you think i could talk to him?"

"What about tomorrow? You know how he is"

Y/N stretched an arm and caressed one of Harry's cheeks. She knew he was hurting, but one thing she knew for sure was how much Artemis loved his daddy, and even tough he doesn't forgive easily, he'll be able to forgive Harry.

The man sighed but nodded nonetheless.

"It happens to the best of us, don't beat yourself up because you lost it once"

"He hates me"

"No, he does not. Tomorrow you'll talk to him and everything will be fine, i promise"

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

Harry barely slept that night. He waited until the sun came up to go out of the bed, careful to not wake Y/N up. He cancelled all his meetings for the day, saying he had more important issues to solve.

He went down and started breakfast. Waffles were Artemis' favorite, so that's exactly what he did. He also washed strawberries and blueberries to put on top of it.

Now, they didn't allow chocolate this early in the morning, but Harry still grabbed the chocolate syrup out of the fridge.

Once he finished his work, he looked back at it. He was proud he pulled off this amazing breakfast, he only hopped it would be enough to earn Artemis forgiveness.

After a little while of being in the kitchen, Harry heard steps coming from the stairs. He stood up from the stool he was sitting on and waited until the six year old boy entered the kitchen, looking mainly for his mum.

"Hey, mate. Good morning" Harry said with a cheerful tone. but he received no response. "Wait, i made you breakfast" he quickly added when he saw Artemis backing off of the kitchen. "Aaaand, you can put chocolate on top of your waffles if you want to"

Now, that caught the boy's attention. He hesitated but still walked towards Harry, sitting on the stool his dad was previously on.

He made him a plate and let Artemis put whatever he wanted on top. Harry waited until he was eating to talk again.

"Listen, buddy, i'm so sorry. I was a big meanie yesterday and shouldn't have spoken to you like that"

"You scared me, daddy" Artemis whispered.

"I know, and i can't apologize enough for it, baby. I promise it won't happen again, would you forgive me?"

Artemis looked at him. Harry had tears in his eyes again and was ready to collapse if his son said no.

"Only if you play with me today"

A big smile formed on Harry's face as he nodded furiously. "I'm all yours, always"

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!!

@myfavfanficsever @odetostep

@la-cey @cock-a-doodely-doo @awkwardbullfrog @mellamolayla @moorgannn @bagtan-serendipity @awesomebooklover17 @finelineribs @sunnybusiness @beanholland @sweetenerstyle @cronias13 @vhsharry @maisley @seasidecrowbar @stylesfics-xx @autumnpauley20

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic

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honeybunny-sawamura · 4 years ago

Text

Where My Heart Blooms

Pairings: Kita Shinsuke x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: yaho, darlings! First fic for the event ^-^ it may be a little early but Shan and I are running on JST so it’s Saturday here! Enjoy!

He must’ve dropped it during one of his rice deliveries. Kita Shinsuke patted the pockets of his pants, both front and back, and came up with only half a pair of his work gloves. This wouldn’t do; he still had a few rice paddies he needed to go through and there were too many stops in his morning deliveries to go back and check them all for just one glove.

He sighs and pockets the lonely glove, looking around the small-town center for a dollar store he can hop into. He spots one but the flower shop next to it catches his eye; they’re bound to have better ones than the dollar store. Plus, in the couple of times he has visited this small town, Kita has never seen this shop before. Judging by the glossy paintwork and the spotless décor, he guesses that it just opened up. He makes his way towards the flower shop, mind set on just getting the gloves he needs.

Yet when he steps inside, he’s in complete awe by what he’s greeted by: flowers of every type and color fill the little store to the brim, enticing people with their perky buds and sweet aroma. There are vases upon vases of various flowers and even the walls and ceilings have hanging flowerpots with colorful blossoms peeking from them. Kita feels like he’s walked into a wonderland as he takes in everything before him. With each step he takes inside, the young farmer is greeted by bundles of colors. He stops at each one to read the label cards before them; names of the plants all handwritten in a pretty cursive with little tips on how to care for them. He admires each flower he comes by, noticing that every one seems well taken cared for and handled with love. Whoever owns this little flower shop is putting their heart and soul into each bud and blossom.

“Hello! How can I help you today?” Kita looks up from the bunches of lilacs to see you, the flower shop’s owner, setting an empty vase down and offering him a friendly tilt of the head. He takes in a small breath at the sight of you; you’re as bright and beautiful as all the flowers he’s surrounded by and something in his chest starts to bud.

“Umm… I’m wondering if you sell any gloves? I need it for work and I lost one,” he tells you; even holding up the companionless glove as evidence. The sight of it makes you giggle and Kita thinks it’s the sweetest sound. You beckon him over to the back of the shop where the registers are. He follows, wondering how to start a conversation with you. A bunch of ideas whizz through his head but he grasps onto none. It’s even harder to think of a topic when you turn around to face him and flash a pretty smile while presenting to him where the gloves are: on one of the shelves near the paying counter.

“So you like flowers?” his mouth suddenly blurts out before his brain can decide what it should say. The fair-haired farmer has half the mind to just walk out of the shop in pure embarrassment but stays when you brighten up at his question.

“I do! It’s the reason why I opened this shop,” you reply and proceed to tell him your love for flowers. Kita listens intently to your every word, sometimes interjecting to ask you a genuine question or comment on the similar knowledge you two share. He swells a bit with pride when you commend him for his work as a rice farmer and providing high quality rice for the small towns around.

“It’s not a job most people will take, and it is grueling on most days but I quite like it,” he tells you and you admire him for it. You can see the hard work he puts in from the golden tan on his skin, calloused hands resting on the counter, and firm muscles peeking under his shirt. You blush slightly and distract yourself from staring more by talking about the start up of your shop. Kita finds the pink in your cheeks adorable but then again, he thinks everything about you is lovely. The way you speak so passionately about something you’re so fond of and readily share your experiences has the bud in his chest starting to sprout. Unfortunately, he can’t stay and talk with you more but along with the gloves he buys a pack of carnation seeds. You perk up at his additional purchase and throw in a little something for free to help with taking care of these flowers. Kita tries to pay for that inclusion, but you bargain with him to come back to the shop and update you with how the carnations go. He gives you the softest of smiles and promises to do so. You wave him farewell as he leaves your shop and both of you think of how you can’t wait to see the other soon.

Kita comes over the week after and judging by the delighted look he gives you; the carnations are coming out well. The young rice farmer tells you so and you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body when you can hear the elated tone in his voice and see the proud sparkle in his eyes. It makes you happy that he seems to be enjoying something you love. Like the week before, the two of you spend a good hour or so talking; this time getting to know each other. You tend to the flowers as he tells you about his high school days and he helps you water the buds as you share your own. Kita doesn’t stay long like last time, but he does buy another pack of flower seeds; this time it’s begonias. Once again, he promises to come back and update you on them.

This starts becoming a weekly thing for the two of you: Kita visits your flower shop and the two of you talk for a while about everything and anything. It could be about how his harvest is going or which high school buddy visited him recently. For you, it could be about the next batch of flowers coming in soon or how you miss your family. Sometimes there are other customers in the shop with the two of you and they often give a knowing glance. Both of you try not to dwell on that too long; clearing your throats and looking away from each other with pink stained cheeks. But whenever Kita leaves, he always buys a pack of flower seeds; each one different from the week before. You see him off with a tool or a tip to help the flowers grow and that he come back next time to update him on how they go.

Once he came into the flower shop with a pout on his face and you immediately knew that he was experiencing a hiccup with the new set of flowers he was trying to grow; hyacinths this time. He tells you his problem and even shows a picture on his phone of his predicament. You immediately notice what’s wrong and with a bright reassuring smile, you give him advice on how to fix it. The farmer’s mood perks up at that and he takes note to do as you say. Not wanting to leave the store empty handed, he buys a bouquet of your best flowers. “For my grandmother,” he tells you with the most affectionate tone that you make sure to wrap it in the best wrapping paper and tie the bow to the upmost perfection. You’ve heard about this wonderful woman from Kita and you take it upon yourself to have him give the prettiest bouquet to the woman who helped shaped him. The week after you feel warmth spread throughout your chest when he tells you how much his grandmother loved it and still has it sitting prettily in her favorite vase.

Weeks turn into months and soon Kita had a garden full of colorful flowers that he’s sure you’d be impressed by. He’s proud of each one and he tends to them fondly; they remind him of you. Every time he comes back from tending the seemingly endless fields of rice, seeing the small but bright garden blooming sweetly in front of his porch soothes him. He can see your lovely smile in the crocus, hear your laughter when the larkspurs blow in the wind, and smell your perfume in the amaryllises. Each seed he had bought from you grew and bloomed into beautiful flowers while his affections for you blossomed immensely in his chest. Kita could no longer deny that he looks forward to visiting your flower shop every week; yearning to see you and earnest to hear your stories for the day. Sure, the two of you exchanged numbers three months into your weekly meet ups and text often, but it wasn’t the same as talking to each other face to face. And while the two of you hinted to the other that you both wanted something more than just your weekly visits, neither of you could find the courage to ask the other out. You and Kita continuously danced around the concept of taking the relationship further that the people in the small-town center were wondering if they should take matters into their own hands. But they figured if fate wanted you and him to be together, it’ll happen.

Valentine’s Day was just a couple of days away and Kita was once again in your flower shop. It was busy with customers making reservations for Valentine bouquet deliveries and needing help with buying the right flowers for their loved ones. He watched you flitter about the shop, professional smile on full blast, as you suggest camellias to a customer only for them to insist on just roses. The fair-haired farmer helps you water some of the young buds as you finish up with this customer and watches you sigh as they finally leave so it’s just you and him.

“Valentine’s Day has you busy…” he comments while making his way towards you to the counter. You nod tiredly at him.

“Yeah… I knew this would happen. Lots of people wait to the last minute to reserve their Valentine’s Day bouquet. Was like that when I worked at my friend’s flower shop,” you take the watering can from Kita and thank him for the help before continuing,

“I like helping people with their bouquets. A lot of people pair the wrong flowers together or buy the wrong one to express their feelings, so I try to help. But most don’t care. They just go with the basic roses. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Just… So many other flowers can express how much you feel about the person you’re giving them to.” Kita nods, remembering you had talked to him a little about flowers having meaning and symbolisms. You only taught him a few of them but he went home later that day and learnt a bunch more himself.

“Red camellias are symbols of love, passion, and deep desire,” he recalls out loud and he smiles when your eyes widen in surprise before crinkling in mirth.

“Right! See? They would have been perfect for that guy earlier!” you exclaim before sighing. It seems only Kita cares about what each flower symbolizes. He gives you an apologetic look, knowing something like this is important to you.

“Well, at least the people who’ll give you bouquets for Valentine’s Day will know you’ll appreciate them,” he starts but then tilts his head in confusion when you smile a bit sadly at his comment.

“I usually don’t get bouquets,” you confess, fiddling with the water can you took from him earlier. “Because people know I work with flowers, I get other things instead. I don’t mind but…” You don’t get to finish that sentence when a group of giggling college girls come in, all looking to get something for their special person for Valentine’s Day. You smile apologetically to Kita before you greet the young women and go over to help them. Kita doesn’t mind though as an idea pops into his head. He excuses himself from the flower shop and you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that you didn’t get to ask what he has planned for Valentine’s Day. Your heart sinks at the thought of him spending it with someone else but shake it off when one of the girls calls you over.

Valentine’s Day itself is incredibly busy for you and it’s filled with calls to and from delivery companies along with impatient customers or last minutes changes and cancellations. You don’t have time to think that you, yourself, have no Valentine’s of your own with everyone else bothering you to get their loved ones the best bouquets you have to offer. Even when you have time to breath, you’re checking stock and tending to the remaining flowers. A bundle of lavender has you thinking of a handsome white-haired farmer for just a moment, his serene smile and dark golden eyes making your heart do flips, before the shrill ring of the store’s phone jolts you and your hurry over to answer. The whole day is eventful and when the sun finally sets, you turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED in relief. You survey the shop and you’re quite pleased that most of your flowers have been bought out. A new shipment should be coming in tomorrow and you decide that you’ll set that up tomorrow. While you go to throw your work apron onto the counter, the bell to the shop jingles. You sigh, figuring that it’s a customer looking for that last minute gift. You turn around to apologize and tell them that the shop’s closed but the person speaks first,

“For the most beautiful girl in town.” You come face to face with a huge bouquet. You blink in surprise at all the colorful flowers that greet you and it takes you a moment to take them in your hands.

“I hope they’re umm… To your liking.” You lower the bouquet to see Kita Shinsuke standing before you, blush set on his cheeks and dressed in a nice gray dress shirt and black slacks. He looks so dashing in his outfit and a bit different from when he wears his work clothes; it’s all you ever see him in to be honest. Though there’s uncertainty swirling in his eyes, determination and affection shines from them and makes you blush. You avert your eyes from the intensity of his stare to which he misunderstands. He fidgets a little,

“Ah… I’m sorry I- Was I too…” he starts but you lift your gaze back at him and shake your head.

“No no! I-I… I just… I wasn’t expecting this,” you say softly, and you hug the bouquet slightly. You take a good look at it and realize that Kita had bought seeds for almost all of them. Were they…?

“They’re from the seeds I bought from here. I tried my best to grow them but… I know they’re not as beautiful as the ones you have in your shop…” Kita confesses humbly. Your heart wants to burst out of your chest at how sweet he’s being and that he plucked flowers from his own garden to give them to you for Valentine’s Day. And not only that, but you also see that he has picked certain flowers for their meaning and you fall more in love with him with each one you can define.

“Roses for love. Sunflower for adoration. Carnations can be love and admiration. Lilac to symbolize the beginning of love. And tulips for true love and… Hope.” You interpret aloud before returning your gaze at him. A smile blooms on your face when you see how pink he has become. Kita doesn’t know how to reply to you, but he extends one of his hands out to you. You don’t hesitate to reach out and slip one of yours into his and squeeze it softly. He takes a step towards you and you do the same to him. His golden eyes hold yours steadily, even when he reaches up with his other hand to brush a stray strand of your hair away from your face. You lean into his touch and the Kita’s features soften at that. He slowly leans down to press a kiss to your lips, hesitating for a moment, but you gently push forward and capture his lips with yours. The two of you share a sweet kiss in the middle of your flower shop and all the flowers sigh in content. Kita pulls away from you to take in how beautiful you look right now before whispering,

“Be my Valentine?”

“Yes.”

Taglist: @kiyoo-omi @mitzuya @vs-redemption

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burritoscully · 4 years ago

Text

Unsung Melody

1.3k | angst | ao3 | tagging @today-in-fic

Summary: Mulder finds a letter addressed to him in a box of Scully’s old things.

Mulder closes the attic door behind him quietly. The cardboard box labelled Dana stares at him so menacingly, he can barely take the three steps needed to reach it. He does it. He drags his feet, but he does it.

He takes deep breaths to stop his heart from racing, to stop his throat from clogging. To stop his eyes from watering. To stop him remembering.

The box has not been opened since it was sealed shut in November of 1997. It has been staring at him for the better part of three years, pressing into the back of his mind, tormenting him. He has to though. He needs to move on. He needs to be able to be happy without thinking of it.

He makes his decision.

The box had been cleared of dust when he moved his things into his new place, but had remained untouched since 1997. Unopened since 1997.

He runs his fingers on the creased, crackling masking tape, hoping it will peel itself open. Hoping the effort needed to even touch the box is the hardest part of what he is about to do.

If he repeats it, maybe it will make him feel calmer about it.

1997.

He scratches the tape off with his nails but it tears, leaving the box as it had been, closed. He tries again and again and only on the third try does the tape come off, taking the first two layers of cardboard along with it. He runs the pads of his fingers along the torn cardboard, squeezing his eyes shut and taking slow deep breaths.

This is so much harder than he expected.

The first item in the box he has no memory of ever seeing. It is an envelope, addressed to him. In her handwriting. His hands start to shake as he flips it in his hands and eases the envelope open. As expected, it tears and a shaky breath leaves his mouth. He pulls out a letter that he was unaware ever existed.

May 1997

Dear Mulder,

As I’m writing this, my health is deteriorating rapidly so if you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it. It means my illness has taken me and that I haven’t had the chance to tell you everything you deserve to know.

His eyes start to burn rapidly, his pulse quickens and he feels his fingers go numb.

I— this is very hard for me to say. Write. I’ve always pictured telling you in person, not like this. Not when I’m no longer here with you. I always worried over how you’d react. So much so that I’ve left it to the very last minute. And it has only harmed. This was always supposed to be happy — well, I’d always hoped it would be happy, anyway — but I’ve gone and made it painful.

Mulder squeezes his eyes shut, hoping to calm his heart and stop his nose from running. He doesn’t want his tears smearing her words. Her letter. Not this one. Not if it is what he thinks it is.

I figured it would be cruel to tell you like this, when I’m not here with you, but would it really be more merciful that not telling you at all? My feelings for you… they’re complicated.

No. That’s a lie. They’re very simple. They’re just complicated for me to process.

Mulder wishes he’d told her about his. About the way his heart sped up every time she entered the room, every time he picked up the phone and she muttered “Mulder, it’s me,” every time she so much as raised her eyebrow at him. He wishes he’d told her about the way he loved seeing her blow that strand of hair out of her eyes. That he loved the little smile she got when he said something ridiculous and he loved the little yawns she tried to stifle on night-long stakeouts. He still does.

You see, it didn’t take long for me to know you were different. At first, I just thought you were spooky. Then I met you. I thought you were incredibly intelligent. I was right. Then, my feelings started to shift. You see, within the first year that I’d worked with you, I’d started to become nervous about the idea of seeing you every day. I was so confused but— Melissa had to spell it out for me — it was not a bad nervous. It was a good nervous.

Mulder smiles at the shift in handwriting that Scully’s words go through in those very few, yet significant words. He can tell that she was nervous when she wrote this. That she wanted to get it right.

She did get it right. To Mulder, Scully could do no wrong. Ever.

You see, I was falling in love with you. There, I said it. It’s out. Now you know. It’s too late, but at least you know. I’ve been falling in love with you — slowly but surely — since the day I met you. I just wish I’d had the guts to tell you when I was still healthy. When I was still around. When I could still show you.

Mulder puts the letter down. The burning behind his eyes becomes overwhelming and he is unable to stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks. He violently rakes his sleeve across his face, not wanting to spill tears on the precious words Scully had written. Words that he had so desperately wanted to hear from her.

At least he knows, now.

I could sit here and write pages and pages about everything you do that makes my knees weak. I could sit here for the literal rest of my life trying to tell you just how in love with you I am, Mulder. I should have told you sooner. I really should have.

Mulder tries so hard to hold in the whimper, but it tears through his chest like a rabid animal. The emotion that had been building up finally set free. He is no longer able hold the tears back. He sobs audibly and the sound echoes through the attic, bounces off the walls and down the stairs.

Mulder I don’t want you to be miserable. I want you to live a long and happy life. I want you to know that you, Mulder, are and will always be the love of my life and I can only hope that you love me, too. That being said, Mulder, I have one request.

He doesn’t hear the gentle footsteps over the sound of his hiccupping cries. He doesn’t hear the door creak open and footsteps getting progressively louder.

I want you to be happy. I want you to find someone that makes you as happy as you have made me these past four years. I want you to live a long and fulfilling life. Please, for me.

Please, don’t forget me too soon, Mulder.

I love you,

yours,

Dana Katherine Scully

He feels small hand wrap around his shoulders, then across his chest and up to stroke his cheek. He pushes the letter away from him and wraps his arms around his legs, burying his face in his knees. When he is ready, he looks up at her.

His eyes are bloodshot and wet, his nose runny and his face contorted with distress. His breathing is heavy and the tears are relentless. Her hands creep up his face, to the back of his head and bring it to her chest. She takes his hand and presses it to the warmth of her chest. She presses it over her heart so that he can hear the thump thump thump of her heart beat. Alive. Healthy. In love.

“Mulder,” she whispers, “Mulder, it’s me. I’m here, I love you”

She continues to whisper sweet, calming words into his ears. Continues until his loud and violent sobs are just tears falling silently down his cheeks. His and hers, too.

“I love you, too, Scully. Forever.”

#the x files #the x files fanfic #cancer arc #angst #happy ending #don't worry guys #msr #dana scully #fox mulder #x files #txf #gillian anderson #david duchovny #Bianca writes

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

from the dialogue prompts! 6: “go away” “no, not until i know you’re okay”

Oh boy this one was hard to write for whatever reason, but she’s done! just in time for us to pretend a world in which Jon or Martin’s lives are ever in real danger doesn't exist....right?

AO3 Link in source on OP

On Being Fine, Absolutely Well-Adjusted, and OK

Martin supposed he should count himself lucky. He hadn’t needed to go to the hospital after the Prentiss attack, had come out with only a few worm scars to show for it, god especially when he thought about Jon and all the worms he and Sasha had had to corkscrew out of him, his face and neck and arms and legs—

See? Martin shook his head, clearing his mind’s eye of the silver and crimson kaleidoscope. It could have been worse. He scratched at his calf, where a close trio of scars had begun to heal, skin-tight and shiny, and, at last, remembered he was supposed to be washing his hands. He was glad the unisex Archive lav didn’t have a mirror by the sink; he didn’t need a reminder of how tired he must look.

The return to work had been difficult, but not as bad as he had expected it to be. Knowing Prentiss was dead had made it easier to return home, though he had immediately spent his first pain-free day rearranging the furniture, as recommended by his therapist. (He had lied to her, of course, claimed an attempted break-in + assault had traumatized him. It wasn’t that far off from the truth, anyways.) So Martin had been spending his evenings repositioning, redecorating, cleaning; anything he could to erase Jane Prentiss and those horrid things from his mind. It wasn’t easy, and Martin still spent nights awake, hyperaware of the smallest sound of squelching or the smell of rot. But he was alive, he reminded himself at home in the mornings, concealing eye bags and trying to reassemble his appearance into some approximation of normal, and shouldn’t that be enough? He hadn’t been seriously injured, like Jon or Tim, hadn’t had to risk a lonely end save them all like Sasha. He should be the most well-adjusted of the three of them.

So why was he here, in the Archive toilet, gripping the edge of the sink so hard he might crack it?

Martin released his grip and watched his blood flow back into his fingers, flexing them. He should really go do...something. Work, probably, if Jon ever decided to stop speaking to him like he was a jigsaw with too many pieces. He splashed some water on his face and exhaled deeply. He was fine, he could-

“Oh shit!” Martin yelped as he turned to face the door into the bullpen. In the reflection at the corner of the mirror that hung on the back of the door was a shiny, squat, silver worm. “Fuckfuckfuck!” Martin cursed, backing into the door and pulling his shoe off with one hand. He patted for his beltloop, where had taken to keeping his corkscrew, and huffed to find it gone. Of course. He was trying not to be paranoid.

Picking up his shoe, he threw it at the worm, half-hidden by the rubbish bin. It bounced harmlessly—or, maybe it hit? Martin couldn’t tell. Either way, the worm moved, and that was when Martin’s vision greyed dangerously, heart leaping to his throat. Oh god, he couldn’t breathe? Why couldn’t he breathe? Was it the carbon dioxide? No. The fire alarm wasn’t going off. Martin’s thoughts raced and he desperately jiggled the door handle, only to find it turning against him. Oh god, it was her. It was-

“Martin?”

It was Jon.

“Jon? Jon, fuck, hey, don’t come in, okay? There’s a worm and I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

…is what he would have said if he could catch his breath. Instead, all he could let out was a raspy, strangled “Jon.”

“Martin, are you alright in there?” Jon’s voice was too calm, too casual for the bile rising in Martin’s throat.

“W-worm.” Martin sputtered as he heard a click of a cane through the door; probably Jon taking a step backward at the word. “Got-gotta kill it,” he babbled, more to himself than to Jon. He could try with the shoe again, but it hadn’t worked the first time, and that would leave him unprotected if he wanted to step on it.

“No! Martin, don’t-”

Oh, he could step on it. Seized in a moment of something, a peculiar blend of bravery, fear, and plain exasperation, Martin crossed the few squares of lino between him and the worm and moved to step on it with precision. To his great surprise, it rolled out from under his foot, glinting against the overhead lighting.

“What?” Martin mumbled aloud, and the realization hit him all at once: this wasn’t a worm at all. Cautiously, he picked up the metal tube and spotted a small label on the bottom. The thin silver tube contained MAC #239: Not Like Other Girls, according to the reddish-brown sticker.

“Lipstick?” Martin whispered to himself, slumping against the wall of the bathroom and letting out a relieved sob. He had been terrified of lipstick?

The realization that should have calmed him down instead sent him spiraling. Martin Blackwood wasn’t always the calm one, but he was always the shoulder to lean on. He couldn’t do this, not have a breakdown in the middle of his workplace, not with—

Tapping came from the door outside. “Martin? Do I need to break the door down?” Jon was still outside, Martin realized with a start.

“Uh-” Martin choked back a sob. “No, no, it’s alright, Jon. I’m fine.”

“You certainly are not.”

“It was just a-a bloody lipstick tube, Jon, I’m alright. Just leave me alone.” Martin shuddered a breath as he swiped at his eyes with the hem of his sweater, praying to anything and everything that for once Jon would just do as he was told.

“No.” Of course not. “Not until I know you’re okay.” Jon’s voice was softer now, a part of Martin realized. The gentleness of his tone struck Martin and he found himself shakily standing and moving to the door. Unlocking and opening it, he saw Jon, leaning heavily on the medical cane he had been given after the incident, eyes a mix of panic and concern, like the way one might eye a wounded animal. Somehow, that look managed to make Martin feel small, protected, loved, and it warmed something in him.

It was that look that broke something in him and Martin felt a taut string inside him snap loose. Tears welled up in his eyes and he desperately swiped at them with the sleeves of his sweater, leaning against the doorframe. “I feel so stupid,” he mumbled, choked laughter mixing with his tears. He held up the lipstick tube, which he had pocketed earlier, and held it up to the light. “It doesn’t even look like them, not really, I-I-I just saw the squat and silver and panicked.”

Jon’s hand was on his arm, but he was quiet, not saying anything until Martin had collected himself, heaving sobs to hiccups to shallow breathing as he brought himself to baseline again. “Martin,” Jon said quietly, flexing the fingers that held his bicep, “I know you’ve had a rough few months.” Martin scoffed. “Fine, okay, maybe rough doesn’t begin to cover it. What I mean to say is, well…” Jon’s mouth floundered for a word properly, lips forming a few different shapes before settling on, “are you, you know, getting help?”

“Yes, Jon, I’m in therapy.” Martin surprised himself with his own honesty. “But there’s not really much I can say, you know? Not without getting carted off to a sanitorium or getting doped up on meds of some kind or another. I mean, evil worms haunting my house and my workplace? A worm woman determined to kill me and everyone I care for? Not exactly something cognitive behavior therapy will fix.”

Jon sighed in assent, nodding. “That’s fair, I suppose. I just-Martin.” The hand squeezed his elbow and Martin felt a jolt of electricity run through his skin. “You’re allowed to hurt, you know?” Martin’s eyes must have given away his thoughts because Jon continued, voice soft and gentle.

“We all suffered, Martin, but you were the one who was locked in your home, and then the basement where you work, for months on end. Just because you’re not-” he shifts to wave his cane idly, “-doesn’t mean you haven’t gone through hell alongside us.” Jon’s voice has taken on a hardness to it, an insistence Martin last remembered seeing when they were locked in Document Storage together, when Jon was so afraid of being forgotten. It made Martin shiver, not from fear but from something in the way Jon’s eyes bored into him. He was determined to make Martin believe him. Who was he to refuse The Archivist’s words?

So Martin listened, letting Jon’s insistence settle in his chest. He had suffered; he had lost months of his life to Jane Prentiss, he couldn’t sleep without a fear of worms crawling into his skin and mouth at night. He didn’t feel safe until he was in the Archives at his desk, the one that surveyed the whole room and had two fire extinguishers still tucked into the drawers. As Jon spoke, Martin let his muscles relax slowly, until he was leaned up against the alcove in which the door to the toilets stood, helpless under Jon’s gaze and yet feeling the strongest he had in weeks, if not months. Tears welled in his eyes and he heard Jon hesitantly break off.

“Ah-Martin? You-ah shit, I’m sorry.” Jon’s voice had lost the severity it had previously held and was back to its quiet insistence. “I’m sorry, you-you didn’t ask for a soapbox.”

“No, no,” Martin shook his head, raking his nails through his hair. “I...I think I needed to hear that.” He smiled; a shaky, fragile thing. He scratched the back of his calf awkwardly, trying not to dislodge Jon from where he was precariously balanced between the hand on his arm and the hand on the cane. “Thank you, Jon, really.”

Jon smiled and shifted his hand from Martin’s arm to his hand, squeezing gently before releasing it and sliding the lipstick tube from his hand before turning to the bullpen. “Anytime. C’mon, let’s see if this is Sasha’s or Tim’s. I think it’s more Tim’s color, hmm?”

#jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #fanfic to a tea #cw panic attack #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic

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hurricanery · 4 years ago

Text

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 2

A/N: Here’s part 2 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU- interns fic). Thank u thank u thank u for the nice messages about the first chapter, your messages and replies seriously warm my lil heart. I’m still basically planting seeds for some future plot points here, but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

You can read part 1 here.

_______

And if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up

And I still don't wanna stagger home

Then it's the memory of our betters

That are keeping us on our feet

_______

Everything’s different when the sun comes up. It all comes to light in a different way. The sun rises, and reality settles in. Like sleep is some magic reset button. And all of the thoughts and decisions, all of the fun, all of the mischief, it all seems worlds away. Like that was then, and this is now.

A funny thing happens though, when that reset button gets skipped. When there is no sleep, and no separation of night and day. When you stay awake for 24 hours straight and you watch the sun come up in real time; you watch the sun rise twice in fact, and there isn’t that detachment. It all flows together like a never-ending moment.

It’s strange, Amelia thinks, to have no reset button. To sacrifice the idea of choosing sleep. Because instead of calling it quits after two sunrises, she finds herself in a bar, of all places, sitting across from the people she’d met just 24 hours ago.

“I’m sooo happy you’re moving in with me,” Maggie yawns hugely next to her. And Amelia bites down on a smile at the confession; at what no sleep and a slim two beers has done to this previously panic-stricken intern. The intern that was currently dealing with the impact of being related to a Grey.

Except the panic isn’t worth it. Because there isn’t any fallout. Lexie practically laughs until she cries, when it all comes to light. When Maggie finally lets it slip about who her birth mother is. Between the delirious fits of laughter, all Lexie can manage is a “good luck telling Meredith that.”

And it only gets more chaotic.

There’s no reset for all of the sleep-deprived decisions. Lexie and Jo, in an impressive and almost falsely confident manner, venture off towards the bar, where a handful of residents and attendings claim territory. The rest of the newly formed crew stick together, in their quiet corner of the bar.

Amelia can feel Link’s eyes on her from across the booth as she brings a warm mug of tea to her lips. But her eyes remain glued down, staring down at the crumpled tea packet on the table. One of those cheap brands. Cheap because it’s a rare request in a place like this. The kind of drink that ends up taking longer for the bartender to make. More time-consuming to prepare than one of those fancy cocktails even, because it ends up that the bartender has to go search in the stock room for a tea bag in the first place.

Her thoughts are interrupted when a strong hand occupies her line of vision. It’s jolting, to say the least. For her focus to be intruded on like that. The tea packet she’d been so comfortably resting her eyes on, now suddenly consumed by Link’s grasp. He covers it completely, picking it up and further crumpling it in his fist before dropping it back down on the table.

The action forces Amelia to look at him. Which is probably his intention, anyway. So she does, and it’s equally as jolting. His expression. Because she’s half expecting it to mirror the harshness of a crumpled tea packet. But it doesn’t. It’s warm. And it’s soft. And it’s slightly curious.

“You should all move in with me.” Maggie’s voice chimes in.

And Amelia rips her gaze away from Link’s.

“Okay, slow down there,” she lets out an amused exhalation. “You were barely on board with the idea of me moving in.”

Winston playfully nudges Maggie’s side, from where he’s seated on the other side of her. And Amelia doesn’t miss the way his hand settles just above Maggie’s knee. The interaction stands out to her, and she decides she’s going to bookmark it for later. Revisit it perhaps when everyone’s feeling more awake and alert.

“Who should all move where?” Lexie slides into the booth next to Link, eyes wide with naivety as she sips a full drink.

“My apartment,” Maggie responds matter-of-factly. “I have one more room open.”

Amelia scrunches her nose at this, and she staggers through her confusion. “Wait. Just one more? What happened, I thought-”

“Well, I already promised a room to Link….” Maggie’s voice is laced with exhaustion and something else, as she turns to explain to Amelia. “When you were in the bathroom….I told him, I-” She hiccups slightly, abandoning her sentence. And Amelia tilts her head to the side quizzically. “Anyway,” Maggie gestures across the booth towards Link. “Meet your new roommate.”

Amelia’s gaze returns to Link, and he shrugs somewhat defensively, muttering under his breath, “Sorry.”

But Amelia doesn’t feel sorry. She feels something else. The notion rises in her chest, and she wants to label it as anticipation.

“Okay, but I have to get out of Meredith’s house!” Lexie slams her drink down on the table. “I’m living with a bunch of residents.”

There’s unanimous murmurs of condolence from the group.

“Oh! Speaking of….” She continues, picking her drink back up and nodding towards the bar. “The plastics attending….Mark Sloan? Just bought me this drink.”

“Ugh,” Amelia’s quick to counter. “Do not go there.”

All heads turn to her, and she feels heat rise in her face as she takes in the curious stares. When she doesn’t follow up on her previous precaution, Lexie speaks up again.

“....Have you?” Lexie swallows, a disconcerted expression on her face. “Gone there?”

Amelia doesn’t miss the way Link surveys her expression, following this particular question. She clears her throat, eyes shifting back to the crumpled tea packet.

“No, no. God no.” Her tone is low as she shakes her head dismissively. “I’ve just….known him my whole life.”

“Oh,” Lexie shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. And Amelia quickly surveys any other reactions to her response.

A general quietness falls across the table and Amelia’s eyes eventually settle back to the tea packet. She can’t quite determine why it seems to be the focal point of her evening. Or morning. Or whatever this was. She wants to claim it’s the vivid yellow packaging that keeps catching her eye.

But, her thoughts are intruded once again when Link suddenly stands up from the table. She peers up at him intently.

“Shepherd,” his tone is gentle as he starts moving away from the table. “I think I promised you a game of darts.”

Amelia blinks. Partly in confusion. But also mostly against her sudden bout of exhaustion.

“I, uh,” she mutters, turning around in her seat as she watches Link make his way around the booth.

“Come on.” He raises his eyebrows at her.

And she bites the inside of her cheek, turning around to set her mug down.

“Okay, okay,” she’s not yet facing him when she stands from the booth. “One game and then I’m out of here.” She looks pointedly at Maggie as she exits the booth. “And I can drive anyone home that needs a ride.”

Maggie offers her a toothy grin, and Winston nods in grateful agreement at the offer. Amelia steps away from the table, and tries not to mirror the smug look on Link’s face.

“One game,” she repeats.

And he chuckles a bit, proudly.

“I don’t know….” he lets her lead them across the bar, towards the wall that’s filled with dart boards and other bar games. “You’ll probably want a rematch….when I beat you the first time around.”

Amelia feigns shock at his words. But really, somewhere deep down, she’s suppressing her gratification. Because he’s feeding into her competitive side completely.

“We’ll see,” she says, as she collects the darts and starts separating them.

She hands Link his portion of the game’s pieces and he mimics her words back to her. “We’ll see.”

_______

It ends up that uninhibited decisions turn into concrete plans. Link and Lexie move into the apartment. And Amelia adheres to her pride that she was the first choice in the matter, and that everyone else just happened to follow suit.

She wakes up in the new apartment on this particular morning, and it takes her a moment to adjust to her surroundings. She groggily registers that the unfamiliar space around her is, indeed, her own bedroom.

Her alarm blares again loudly, after it’s been snoozed repeatedly for the last 15 minutes, and she aggressively shuts it off. Sitting up in bed, she throws on a cardigan before shuffling out of her room and down the hall, towards the shared space of the apartment.

“Gooood morning,” Maggie practically sings, her voice an irritating level of cheerful for the early hour.

As Amelia rounds the corner into the small kitchen area, her tired eyes settle on Maggie, where she occupies one of the stools at the counter. All she can manage to mutter is a slight “mhm,” in acknowledgement of the greeting.

She reaches into the cupboard for a mug, before filling it from the coffee pot that’s already been prepared. Once her mug is full of the steaming liquid, she turns back around to face Maggie. She leans against the counter as she brings the cup up to her nose, inhaling the scent and closing her eyes in gratitude.

The sound of Maggie’s bedroom door creaking open eventually shakes her from her blissful moment, and then her expression quickly turns to one of shocked amusement. Because her eyes settle on Winston, as he exits the bedroom and enters into the main room. He’s dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before, and Amelia looks him up and down, biting her lip in excitement, like she’s just remembered where she’s hidden the last piece of a puzzle.

“Ha,” Amelia’s delighted revelation sounds gravelly, the sleep still evident in her voice. “You don’t live here.”

She shifts her gaze to Maggie, who offers a pleading look in return. And then she looks back to Winston, who has since halted in the doorway. She can’t hold back the raspy sounding chuckle that escapes her lips. “I get it. You guys are sex friends. It all makes sense now.”

Winston scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. And Maggie blinks, dumfounded. She stands suddenly, stepping away from the kitchen counter, like she’s desperate to remove herself from this situation.

“I’m gonna go shower. Don’t want to be late,” Maggie mutters.

Amelia just smiles further, eyes shifting playfully between the two, before she turns to walk back to her room. She raises her coffee mug slightly above her as she walks away, like she’s motioning a ‘cheers’ to the air. She tilts her head back once more in their direction, before she disappears from the kitchen, and sarcastically repeats Maggie’s greeting from before. “It is a good morning.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but follows after her through the hallway, turning into the bathroom.

“Let me know when you’re done!” Amelia announces when she reaches her room. “I want dibs on the shower next!”

_______

Amelia finishes her coffee, and as she sets her empty mug in the sink, her impatience steadily rises.

“Maggie!” She yells, as she returns to the hallway. “You’re gonna make us late!”

There’s no response, but she hears that the shower is still on, and she even hears music coming from the bathroom. She finds the music choice odd for Maggie, and also finds it odd that Maggie is even the type of person that listens to music while she showers.

“Maggie,” she tries one more time, knocking her fist against the door.

There’s no answer.

She sighs, glancing at her watch. And then she decides to push the door open slightly, stepping into the small bathroom. “Maggie are you almost done?! I’m just going to brush my teeth real quick while you’re in there,” she announces loudly, over the music, as she reaches for her toothbrush on the sink.

“Um, not Maggie.” A surprisingly deep voice sounds from the other side of the curtain as she starts brushing her teeth.

And oh, that’s Link. “Shit, sorry! I thought you were Maggie! Wow, I just barged right in-”

“It’s fine” he interrupts, and then Amelia hears the water get shut off. “Could you, uh, actually hand me a towel though?” A dripping wet hand shoots out from behind the shower curtain and Amelia just stares at it, her toothbrush falling slack between her lips.

“Hello….? Towel?”

“Uh, right. Here.” She mutters around her toothbrush.

Blinking from her daze, she slowly reaches for a towel and hands it to him. And then suddenly the curtain is sliding open and Link is climbing out of the shower, towel around his waist, in all of his soaking wet glory. And holy shit, Amelia thinks, as she not so subtly darts her eyes around the tight space. Attempting to look anywhere but at him. She settles on turning around, and facing herself in the mirror as she makes quick movements of brushing her teeth.

She doesn’t know where the sudden panic comes from. She’s a confident person. Never timid. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she retaliates against the idea that she’s lost any of her game. Or that she’s the one creating any awkward tension.

Link enters her line of vision through the bathroom mirror, and she feels frozen where she stands. Because, for some reason, he starts inching even closer.

He clears his throat.

“Just need to, uh, grab something…”

She practically jumps out of the way as Link reaches around her for the medicine cabinet.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll get out of your way,” she exhales a sheepish laugh at her own reaction, and tries not to cringe at the way she sounds with her mouth still full of toothpaste.

Link finally moves to exit the bathroom, and Amelia wants to sigh in relief, as she resumes her position in front of the sink. But she doesn’t. She holds back. And from her peripheral, she can see him pause in the doorway.

She turns her head in his direction. And he smirks at her before he leaves.

“Shower is all yours.”

The bathroom door clicks shut and Amelia spits harshly into the sink.

_______

Carpooling is apparently a thing they do now. They arrive at the hospital, and everyone piles out of Maggie’s car, beginning to cross the parking lot.

“Hey!” Jo’s breathless voice sounds from somewhere behind them as she locks up her own car and jogs to catch up with the group. She steps into pace with them, walking next to Link. “Whose service are you guys on today?”

“Neuro. With Shepherd,” Winston responds.

“Same here!” Lexie actually sounds excited.

“Okay, but why are we all on Shepherd’s service?” Jo mutters.

Everyone turns towards Amelia, as if she knows the reasoning behind her brother’s request. She just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Someone a little let down that they aren’t with Karev today?” Link nudges Jo playfully, and Jo feigns shock at the accusation, swatting at his shoulder.

As they enter the hospital, Amelia slows a bit behind the group, letting everyone else venture off ahead of her.

“Not excited about neuro?” She hadn’t realized Link had slowed down with her. “Not exactly my first pick either, but-”

“No, no,” she cuts in. “That’s not it.”

Link just stares at her for a moment, and Amelia almost feels scrutinized by it.

“Oh,” he continues. “Not excited about your brother, then?”

Amelia sighs, questioning to herself when they started getting so personal with each other. And then she cringes at the direction of her thoughts. Because maybe the getting too personal thing had started this morning, following the shower incident.

“That’s not exactly it, either.”

“Not exactly?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, what’s with-”

“Amy Shepherd?!”

Both Link and Amelia turn around, following the voice that’s interrupted their conversation.

Mark Sloan is walking towards them full force, a huge grin on his face.

“Mark?!”

“Amy?!”

“....Amy?” Link mutters under his breath, chuckling at the nickname. And Amelia glances sideways at him in warning.

“The only person that still calls me that is Derek,” she raises her eyebrows at Mark, matching his grin.

“Well, Derek didn’t mention you were in town,” He finally approaches, and Amelia pulls him into a tight hug. They pull apart and Mark looks her up and down. “You look….different than the last time I saw you.”

“You look different, too,” she smirks.

Link looks between the pair curiously.

“And I’m not just in town,” Amelia adds as she steps out his embrace. “I work here now.”

“You work here?! Why didn’t Derek say anything…” Mark gets momentarily distracted by something, or somebody behind them. “Derek!” he yells. “Why didn’t you tell me your sister works here now?!”

Derek approaches, his demeanor reflecting his overall impatience. He completely disregards Mark’s question.

“Why do you people not answer your pages?”

“....And this conversation’s no longer entertaining. Catch up later?” Mark glances at Amelia a final time before stepping away. Then Derek turns towards his sister expectantly.

“When I requested you all on my service today, I expected punctuality.” He raises his eyebrows, and when Amelia offers no response, he continues. “I have a patient being admitted today. She’s had a sudden onset of seizures. We don’t know the cause. But we need to figure out the cause.”

There’s slight hesitation at his instructions.

“Okay, you! Dr….” his eyes shift down to glance over Link’s ID badge. “Dr. Lincoln. I want you to grab the rest of the interns and head to the library. Starting now, you all are in charge of research. Anything, I mean anything, you can find on this. Case studies, research papers, all of it. Just….find something for me.”

Link nods respectively, and he begins to turn towards Amelia.

“And Amy,” Derek’s eyes settle on hers, in an almost disdainful way. “You’re with the patient.”

Amelia is stunned for a moment, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“You want me to do what, exactly?” She steps forward towards Derek, who mutters under his breath in frustration. “Babysit your aneurysm? Because my time is worth way more than-”

“An aneurysm, is the last thing this is-”

“And what makes you so sure of that?!” She looks between his eyes incredulously.

“You think this woman’s just been walking around with a ruptured aneurysm-”

“I didn’t say ruptured-”

“Well if it’s not ruptured, she’d likely not have any symptoms at all, so your logic makes absolutely no sense.” Derek raises his eyebrows, like he’s won the argument.

“I’m just saying! I did a research paper on this. Similar case. Sudden onset of seizures. No prior history. But, this woman fell and-”

“I never said my patient had a fall.”

“Well did you ask her that?”

“Amy,” Derek breathes, exasperated. He tries to move around her, completely done with the conversation.

But she blocks his movements. And he gives her a blank stare. While Link stands off to the side, looking between the two uncomfortably.

“Derek.” She retorts, the frustration in her tone highly evident.

“Take my patient to CT. And then stay with her, while she gets transported to a room. You can manage that, right?”

Amelia bites her tongue, nodding numbly. She refrains from voicing everything she wants to say, and she tries to fight off the emotions that arise as Derek steps around her. She feels defeated. And small. Which was typical lately, following any interaction with her older brother. She curses herself for thinking it would be any different, now that she was here under specific circumstances. Professional circumstances. Hand picked for this surgical internship out of a large pool of equally impressive applicants. But it’s not different. If anything, it’s even more demoralizing, to be met with this discouragement both personally, and now professionally.

Derek steps away and she’s left standing there with Link.

“Your brother is….kind of a jerk.”

Amelia rolls her eyes, pushing past Link.

“Shepherd, wait-”

She ignores the way he calls after her, and she keeps walking. Because she has a patient now. A patient who needs a head CT.

_______

Link finds her about a half hour later. She’s walking from CT with a stack of scans in her arms. She nods a greeting at Link as begins walking with her.

“Hey! So, we've all been in the research library, could probably use your help-”

“I was right,” she says simply, shaking her head. “It’s an aneurysm. It’s tiny, but it’s there.”

Link doesn’t hold back his surprise. “Wow, how’d you-”

He’s cut off again when Amelia turns to him, forcing the scans over into his hands.

“What are you-”

“Make sure Derek gets these.”

“....You don’t want to hand them over yourself?” Link objects, trying to give them back to her. “Tell him you were right?”

“Nah,” she breathes, turning away from him. “I want off his service.”

Link comes to a halt in the middle of the hallway, watching her continue in the opposite direction. She turns around, facing him once more before she’s off again.

“Just please, hurry. He needs to see those now.”

_______

Several hours later, after her shift has ended, all Amelia wants is a peaceful evening. The first thing that comes to mind for her, when seeking this, is chamomile tea.

After changing into her sweats, which includes her favorite Harvard sweatshirt, she wanders down the hall to the kitchen to begin her evening routine.

The kitchen is dark, so she flips on one of the dim lights before she starts rummaging through the cupboards. To her left, from the balcony attached to the small kitchen, she can hear the sound of Jo’s exuberant laughter, mixed in with a couple of other voices.

A moment later, the sliding glass door is opening and Link is stepping inside. He slightly grimaces at the difference in volume to the quiet kitchen, as the voices outside get cut off with the door sliding shut again.

“Oh, hey,” he mutters, as he sets an empty beer bottle on the counter. “Didn’t know you were up. Are we being too loud?”

Amelia shakes her head, her focus still on her tea set-up.

She knows she’s being standoffish, and probably to Link’s notice, too.

“Weird day, huh?”

Amelia shrugs. And then realizes she has yet to say anything out loud here.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“You seem like someone….that would want to talk about it, no?”

Amelia smirks at this revelation.

“It’s a long story,” she murmurs, listening to the water in the electric kettle start to boil, and then the comforting sound gets interrupted by Jo’s laughter from outside. “Shouldn’t you get back out there, anyway?”

“Sounds like Lexie’s keeping her entertained.”

Amelia leans her back against the counter, peering across the kitchen at him.

“Derek….he’s not a jerk,” Amelia says simply. “I know it seemed that way earlier. But really, there’s more to it.”

Link shrugs, moving to lean against the opposite counter.

“It just seemed like he wasn’t taking you seriously. When you happened to be right, so. Maybe he should have.”

Amelia nods to herself.

“Do you have siblings?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Only child.”

Amelia grins. Something about this piece of information makes sense to her.

“I think sometimes it’s hard to....I don’t know,” she trails off momentarily. “Take the baby of the family seriously?”

It’s probably obvious to Link that there’s more to it. Reasonings that she’s conveniently leaving out. But he nods along with her explanation anyway.

“Anyway, I don’t want you to go on thinking my brother is some bad guy….” she mutters as she turns around to face the kettle again. “Because he’s not, he’s….one of my favorite people, actually, so.”

Link watches as Amelia starts drumming her fingers against the countertop, her eyes glued to the tea kettle.

He steps towards the fridge, because he’d originally come inside to grab another beer.

The kettle clicks off and Amelia’s fingers against the counter come to rest. She places a tea bag into her mug and pours some of the boiling water over it. She turns around just in time to see Link shut the fridge door, empty-handed.

“Aren’t you heading back out there?”

“Yeah, I just….” he gestures towards the kettle. “That looks pretty good, actually. Is there any left over?”

Amelia holds back her surprise, but quickly nods. She reaches over for another tea bag and hands it over to him.

“Knock yourself out.”

She watches Link hesitate, turning the packet over in his palms.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she grins. “Just use the water from the kettle.”

Link nods, reaching for a mug.

“I’m going to bed. Think you can handle it?” Amelia gestures towards the mug in his hands.

And Link rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ve got it. Is it that obvious that I’m not really a tea guy?”

Amelia bites her lip, and shrugs, turning on her heels and back towards her bedroom.

“Goodnight, Amy.” She can hear Link snicker from the kitchen. And the use of the nickname causes Amelia to halt in her tracks. She slowly rounds the corner back into the kitchen.

“Don’t even.” Her voice is tight with astonishment. “Do you want me to start referring to you as Atticus? Because I will.”

The threat causes Link to falter only a little. And then he grins.

“Try again,” she mutters.

“Okay,” he’s laughing now. “Goodnight, Amelia.”

She thinks it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. Or called her by her first name at all. She’s been so used to hearing him refer to her as ‘Shepherd,’ that the sound of her first name falling from his lips actually stirs something inside her. She convinces herself that that’s it. That’s the reason it stuns her a little. It’s simply because she’s not used to it. Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that she enjoys the way it sounds.

She can’t help the smirk that crosses her face, as she repeats his sentiment. She turns back towards the hallway, an amused edge to her voice.

“Goodnight, Link.”

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uncrownedmox · 4 years ago

Text

Entanglements Part 1

The Rigmarole: Mention of sexual contact / descriptive- dirty language. Swearing. Character(s) being a dominant cocky asshole. Sexual shenanigans (oral, male/female giving, toy play, alpha status) 18+ only.

Summary: You are the adopted sister of one Jon Moxley who has just recently lost his AEW championship title. You have been with him through it all. The Shield break ups, the injuries, the jump to AEW. But nothing has her big brother down or more laser focus than Kenny Omega.

She won’t let Kenny Omega destroy her big brother, even if she has to destroy herself in the process to save him. Or the growing relationship between her and a certain relentless newly crowned TNT champion.

Rating: MC+

Entanglements

a complicated or compromising relationship or situation.

We do this together, understand.

You knew Jon would say that; looking at your phone, you also knew you had to do this before he suspected anything. You two weren’t blooded brother and sister, but since your debut in the WWE and your injury, the two of you were tight. He and Renee had been the only ones to care a damn about you, so when Jon had left, you had been all too happy to follow him. The only hiccup along the way was - HIM.

If you did this and went after Kenny without Jon, you would need extra help. Kenny had The Elite and now the Good Brothers to watch his back; you knew you couldn’t help in those regards. Not physically. But if you got in close- plus you had heard certain things. Jumping when a hand came to rest on your shoulder, “Jumpy tonight, Rainbow Brite?” Turning to face the one person that you and Jon had come to trust. ”Not at all, Walking Dead.” Darby rolled his eyes at the nickname, snorting as you pocketed your phone for the time being. Reaching up to push back some pink strands of your hair, you blew a bubble with your gum.

“So, what’s it like getting all buddy-buddy with the great Sting?” Darby looks down at you, and you see it again, the storm of emotion that rolls through his ice-blue eyes. Sucking in a breath, you lower your eyes. “Darby, you can’t keep doing that.” His finger comes up to ghost trace your cheekbone, turning your head away with tears forming. There is a loud boom. Then, you can feel the heat vanishing as he lowers his hand. “This conversation isn’t over between us, Rainbow Brite.”

Watching him walk away was hell; he was taking your heart with him. But you had work to do. Your brother needed your help. Taking out your phone again, you scrolled through your contacts and took a deep breath. Tapping out a text message.

You are doing great. Keep it up. Keep him pissed off, it will keep him off his game.

This isn’t how Jon wanted it to go. Jon wasn’t one for reverse psychology; mind tricks weren’t his forte. You were laughing softly back in the day; that used to be Rollins trick. Sure Jon learned some of them, applied some of them. But this was a different time, a different place, and they were without the would-be Architect. You felt like you had to keep your head on a swivel to keep up with your brother these days. His acting career, his MMA, his pending fatherhood.

You took up MMA and even got a part in a Netflix series to keep up with him. Jon had rolled his eyes at your Netflix series; fantasy and magic weren’t his cup of tea. Renee had loved it. You HAD loved it.

Suddenly your phone buzzed in your hand, signaling a return message.

High praise coming from his baby sister.

You were smirking because the jackass had responded just the way you wanted him to. This might be slightly easier than expected. Tapping out quickly, you hoped you were playing this game correctly. If not, you stood to lose everything. EVERYTHING.

Care to rephrase those last two words, champ.

Tapping your nails on the back of your phone, you waited to see if he would take the bait once more. If he would read in-between the line, see what you were throwing down. Moving to catering as you waited, feeling ice-blue eyes on you as you moved, you felt your heart skip a beat. Moving past Britt and Rebel, who was talking about Matt and Reby Hardy announcing that they too were having a little girl. Smiling in thought, how that covid was bringing out these life-changing positives.

Grabbing some fruit and some cream cheese, you move to sit down in a far corner when your phone buzzes again. Popping a piece of cantaloupe into your mouth, you slowly move to look at your phone, only feeling one more set of eyes on you.

My apologies. I am a busy man, after all.

You were nodding your head, yes. You are, and I need you. And the access you have. Smiling as you toss a strawberry into your mouth, you know this might be your chance. That your game plan might die here and now if he doesn’t take the bait. Taking a drink of a bottle of water, you move to tap out.

I understand. Make it up to me?

Blinking in confusion as you hit the send hit, you suddenly remember not grabbing a bottle of water. Eyes are darting up and round, gasping when your light green eyes connect with ice-blue ones. “What shit are you getting into, Rainbow Brite?” Darby stood in front of the table you have chosen, his hands flat, on either side of your plate. You are freezing as your heart threatens to explode.

You are licking your lips, watching as Darby’s eyes drop to follow the movement. The air seems to snap in static electricity; that’s when you see Jon enter the room out of the corner of your eye. Swallowing hard, you strangle out, “Darby, don’t, please.” He cocks his head down and to the side but murmurs, “So this fuckary has to deal with your big brother?” Choking and jumping when the table vibrates loudly when your phone goes off.

Watching as Darby swings his beautiful ice-cold eyes to look at the offending device, but he makes no move for it. Quickly making a grab for it, lower your eyes at the message screen, you close your eyes at the message.

Enlighten me; how would I do so?

Feeling Darby’s gaze on you, feeling Jon zero in on you. You took a deep breath and nearly jumped as Jon snarled when he finally made his way to the table you were at. With shaky fingers, you quickly tapped out before Jon could speak, before you change your mind.

A change of scenery?

“What the fuck are you doing?” Glancing at your brother, you forced a smile on your lips and sweetly asked, “what do you mean, Jonathan?” He simply rolls his eyes at his full name, plops down in a chair, throws a glance at Darby in the ‘wtf are you doing here’ fashion but continues. “Three fucking days, no texts, no calls, no visits. No, nothing.” Rolling your own eyes as you give Darby an apologetic look. You know Jon gets tunnel vision.

It’s how he has missed this growing-breathing thing between you and Darby for so long. You are pretty sure he knew of your friendship with one another. But you don’t think he has picked up the hot flame burning between the two of you. Most haven't, not with Darby’s recent divorce and the well-known fact you didn’t date wrestlers. You have been a wrestler yourself for only five years now, and your first bit of advice was. Don’t ever date a wrestler.

It’s so funny; you didn’t start in this business as part of the talent. Nor sleeping with anyone. You were a mere happy gymnast, then one day, Paul Levesque had scouted you. After a year at the WWE performance center, you have been labeled the newest and hottest thing. Within the WWE, you have held their women’s division, helped their revolution. Now it was to learn about yourself.

And yet, here you were.

“Jon, I have a life outside you and Renee, believe it or not.” Knowing this is where you have to start the plan, glancing at Darby quickly, you hoped he would understand. If not, he would at least forgive you someday. Jon snaps, “I get that doll. Quit twisting my fucking words.” Snapping, you gathered up your trash as your phone went off again. Darby straightened, and you wanted to whimper; instead, you hissed out.

“Jesus, Jon can’t a girl get laid without her big brother getting up all in her business?” With that, you go and toss your trash away. You feel both Jon’s surprised eyes drilling into your back and Darby’s more cold, calculating look roaming your body. Looking down at your phone, you smirk in success.

How does Memphis sound?

---(0)--(0)---

It has been three weeks.

You have alienated yourself from Jon AND Darby. Darby has stopped approaching you after the first confrontation with Jon. But Jon has picked up the pace not only against Kenny Omega but YOU as well. Almost like he knows what you are doing, planning?

You have been careful, explained it to Kenny, not to show all the cards just yet. Hit him when you got him down and bleeding, baby. It all comes to a head the night Kenny offers Jon his rematch. The Good Brothers have him tied up, bleeding, and spent. Kenny grabs the mic and pushes the title in Jon’s face.

“Is this what you want, Jon? Truly? Cause let’s be honest here, pretty platinum is NOT the ONLY thing I have taken from you.”

Backstage you move into position, and you see Tony Kahn suck in a breathe. His eyes go wide as you pick up a mic and start to walk. Kenny keeps on talking.

“NOT only have I reclaimed MY number one position in this world, Jon, but I have claimed the spot no one else could do for months. And that was to take you OUT. But I found I wasn’t satisfied with that. No Jon, I want to BREAK you.”

You see the ring action as you start to step out of the tunnel. The crowd reacts instantly. Kenny smirks and bellows into the mic.

“So I took something ELSE that was precious to you, Jon!”

Stepping out to the ring, you see that Good Brothers have let Jon move his head so he can look your way. You see the look of surprise in his baby blue eyes. Then Jon, misunderstanding, snarls.

“Don’t you touch her, Omega.”

Shaking your head as you bring the mic to your lips, you mockingly add.

“Ohh, he has done more than touch me, big brother. Did you honestly think, I as your BABY SISTER, wouldn’t become a target in your war Jon?”

Gliding to stand next to Kenny, you lay your hand onto his chest and snuggle into his body, laying your head onto his shoulder and letting everyone think that you were now Kenny Omega’s new flavor of the week. You continue to speak as though Jon’s eyes are hardening on you.

“I simply made my move before that happened, Jon. Kenny Omega is a smart man!”

Taking a step forward and leaning down, you look Jon Moxley right in the face and snicker into the mic.

“And oh so good with his hands. Pure magic.”

There is a heat in Jon’s eyes that has you stepping back, then Kenny explaining the exploding barbwire match to him, and his eyes flicker to you. Afterwards, in the hallway, you see Darby Allin and his cold blue eyes drill into you. When Kenny steps away for an interview with Don Callis, you sigh in relief. His voice makes you jump a little, “you are playing a dangerous game Rainbow Brite.” Looking at the man you want with every fiber of your being, you swallow hard and smile weakly at him. “Hello to you too, Walking Dead.”

He invades your personal space in an instant, hands on your hips, lips against your ear. “You don’t think Jon doesn’t see what you are doing??” Blinking, you jerk back at look deep into his eyes. “What do you mean?” Then behind you, you hear a bellow. There are people shouting; your name is being yelled. Turning halfway around, you met Jon’s enraged eyes. “Get your ass over here.” Blinking as you watch The Bucks and Cody attempt to hold your brother back. Suddenly there is a hand snaking around your upper arm, “time for us to go, princess.”

Casting your eyes to Darby, you can only swallow hard and fight back the tears as Kenny pulls you along behind him and away from the two men you love most in this world.

I N S P I R A T I O N S Q U A D

@snarkwriteswrasslin : @dilfmoxley : @ofdreamsandomens @thewrestlingobsessor : @writingrose : @deepdisireslonging

S P I C Y S I S T E R S

Holls | Tay | Kay | Crystal

A O 3 S U P P O R T

SethMoxslady = RuinousOmen = Anne Carter

#My writing #Smut #jon moxley fanfiction #darby allin fanfiction #no one under 18+#over1000words #wrestling fanfiction #my muses #masterlist #chapter stories

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