#Is water important? Who knows? I have lots though. I found so many empty bottles. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

Text

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work.

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest."

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago.

#bnha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere x reader #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa

779 notes · View notes

sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Lunch break at last.

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“Babe, dinner is ready!”

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”

He really was too good for this world.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #doctor steve rogers #doctor steve rogers x wife reader

302 notes · View notes

snelbz · 3 years

Text

Life As We Know It {Chapter Five}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta’s time for mourning was up.

As she pulled into Elain’s driveway, reality set in. It would be her first day back at the restaurant since the accident, since her life was thrown completely upside down.

She wasn’t ready

But, she had no choice.

Elain was already smiling when she opened the door, reaching out to take Nyx. “Hi, my baby! Aunt Lainy and Seph are so excited to spend the day with you, yes we are.”

“I’m glad, because Aunt Nesta isn’t so excited to not be spending the day with him,” she said, sighing.

Elain gave her sister a wistful look. “I get that. How about Cass, how did he feel going back to work last night?”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t know. He never came back. They started inventory around two this morning after last call, according to the short text I woke up to. He says he’ll be there for most of the day.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Wow.”

Nesta blinked. “He’s a bartender, what do you expect?”

“No,” Elain chuckled. “I meant: wow, looks like you two are actually communicating. I’m shocked.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “We’ve been living together for three days. If we weren’t communicating, what exactly would we be doing instead?”

Elain carried Nyx into the living room, sitting him down in the playpen she’d set up in the corner. “I mean, honestly, Az and I just figured you were pretending each other didn’t exist.”

For all intents and purposes, they had been, but they had made sure to talk about important things. Like whether Nyx had been fed, when he needed to go down for his nap and what the schedule for the next day would look like.

To be totally honest, she hadn’t even realized Cassian had her number until she’d woken up to a text from one she didn’t have saved in her phone.

“We’re…adjusting,” she finally said, watching as Nyx crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner of the playpen. “I gave him a bath last night, and he said he would handle the next one, since he had to go to work. But… Gods, Elain, giving a one-year-old a bath is exhausting. I looked like I’d just left the pool, not to mention the entire bathroom was soaked.”

Elain chuckled and shook her head. “Seph loves baths, but we’re still having them in the sink right now. She’s not quite ready for the bathtub yet.”

The baby in question was asleep in a bouncer, resting on the floor by the couch.

Nesta glanced at her watch, whatever reply she had falling from her lips. “Shit, I have to go, I’ll be late.”

“Go,” Elain said, wrapping her sister up in a hug. “The day will fly by and you’ll be home with Nyx before you know it.”

Nesta nodded, even though her core was filled with dread.

Nonetheless, she was across town in fifteen minutes, hurrying into the café just before nine. She tossed her purse behind her desk after she unlocked the door to her office and looked around, only to find everything exactly where she had left it.

With a sigh, she pulled a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge, only to find it completely warm. They must have unplugged it when they were cleaning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She didn’t have time to think on it too much, though, because there was a knock on her office door, her manager’s voice calling her name through the wood.

Her first day back had officially begun.

Cassian was exhausted.

For the past couple hours, he felt like he was lost somewhere in a dream. Now, as he continued to stare at the shelves of liquor in the back room, he debated curling up in the corner and falling asleep.

He’d messed up so many drink orders the night before, worrying about whether Nyx was okay or if Nesta had forgotten to do anything for him. He knew Nesta was perfectly capable of taking care of Nyx, had been doing so since Rhys and Feyre had died. But he still worried about him constantly.

He yawned as he shoved a box of tequila up onto the top shelf, turning to see how much was left.

Only to find the store room empty of boxes. He let over a relieved sigh, pulling out his phone.

10:37

He knew the opener would be in at eleven, a shift that was usually his, but as the manager, he preferred to ensure inventory was done correctly, and with such a big shipment, thanks to his unexpected time off, he told them he would work the night before.

His feet damn near shuffling across the floor, he made his way into the office and sat down at the desk, to wait for Kallias. He didn’t see a reason to lock the place up when Kal would be here five minutes later to start setting up.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knocking on the office door and sat up quickly, his feet falling from where he’d propped them on top of the desk.

Cassian found Kallias standing in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips. “Baby keeping you up at night already?”

He yawned, dragging a hand down his face. “No. Well, sometimes, but not this time. Didn’t finish inventory until about fifteen minutes ago.”

Kallias whistled. “Damn. You should’ve called. I would’ve come help.” Cassian shrugged. “No use having both of us exhausted.”

Kallias just shook his head. “If you say so. Go home, Cass. Get some sleep. I’ve got everything under control.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, clapped Kallias on the shoulder, and walked out to the parking lot. After hopping into his truck, Cassian dozed off.

And six hours later, he woke up, his head against his steering wall, his neck hurting like hell, and his chin glistening with his slobber.

It wasn’t an attractive sight.

After a curse, he looked at the clock on the dash, and swore again.

It was just after five.

The truck was in gear and he was speeding home seconds later. When he rounded the corner, Nesta’s car was already in the driveway.

He parked beside her, hopping out and hurrying to the back door. When he threw it open, he found her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Even after his impromptu nap in the truck, he still felt like he needed another eight hours sleep. “Inventory took way longer than usual and then I passed out in the truck.” He shook his head, letting his obvious exhaustion explain the rest to her.

“It’s fine.”

He looked up and glanced at her stiff back. She hadn’t turned back to look at him, was completely focused on whatever she cooked on the stove.

Her tone said it absolutely was not fine.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’d been awake for over twenty-six hours.”

“Elain had to reschedule a shoot with a client tonight. She was expecting you to come pick up Nyx after you got off and got some sleep.”

He cringed. Nesta had texted him around ten, while he was still focused on inventory, asking him to get Nyx from Elain before three. He didn’t ask why, had honestly forgotten she’d even texted him.

“I’ll call her later, I’ll apologize,” he sighed.

Nesta turned abruptly and tossed the towel she was using to hold the warm handle on the counter. She was pissed, he’d seen that look in her eyes more than once. “I get that you worked and you were tired, but you have to be more responsible, Cassian.”

“I said I was fucking sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in my truck, but I did. I’m fucking sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the stove.

Cassian scoffed, and was nearly ready to bite her head off, but then Nyx’s soft cries came from the living room.

“He fell asleep in the pack and play,” Nesta said, continuing to stir what she had on the stove.

Cassian took that as his dismissal. He hurried into the living room and picked up Nyx, who was standing up in his pack and play, gripping the edge. When he saw Cassian, his hands shot straight in the air.

“Hey buddy,” he said, quietly, as he lifted Nyx out of his pack and play. Nyx instantly relaxed in his arms, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder.

“He’s probably hungry,” Nesta said, as the boys made their way back into the kitchen.

“I’m aware,” Cassian snapped.

Nesta’s shoulders tensed.

Cassian said nothing more as he opened the fridge and took out some leftover mashed potatoes, Nyx’s favorite.

“He should have some kind of protein with that,” Nesta said, her back still to them.

Cassian spun around, exasperated. “Shit, anything else you’d like to add?”

She said nothing, pretending he didn’t even speak. Cassian didn’t say anything else, but he fixed him a bottle, and set Nyx in his high chair. As Cassian shook it, Nyx held out his hands, reaching for it. He gave it to him, turning to the microwave to heat up the potatoes.

He heard plates being set down at the table and found Nesta setting two plates full of stir fry on the table.

He hesitated, but moved Nyx’s high chair closer to the table. He took the already empty bottle from him and got a small spoonful of potatoes for him. He quietly said, “You didn’t need to cook for me,” as he fed Nyx.

“I made too much,” she replied, simply, sitting across from him. She didn’t meet his eyes as she took a bite.

He watched as her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction.

As Nyx grabbed his bowl from the end of his high chair and stuck his face into it, Cassian looked down at his own plate, at the steak, broccoli, peppers, peeled carrots, and snap peas that sat before him.

It smelled delicious.

He hesitantly took a bite as Nyx clapped his hands and began to babble.

“Afraid I may poison you?” Nesta asked.

Cassian blinked, meeting her eyes. They remained like that for a moment, staring at one another, then Cassian took another bite. “It’s good. Thanks.”

“I made too much,” she repeated. “Cut Nyx up some of the steak. It’s tender enough for him to eat, just make sure the pieces are tiny. The broccoli, too. He likes broccoli.”

Cassian did as he was told without a word. He set the food in front of Nyx, who instantly had his chubby little hands on them.

“Don’t think I’ll be cooking every night,” Nesta said, in the middle of their otherwise silent meal.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Cassian said, then cleared his throat. “I can cook sometimes, too. I’m not bad in the kitchen.” A look crossed Nesta’s face that said she didn’t quite believe that statement.

“I make a mean breakfast,” he said, after chewing through another bite. “I’ll show you. We’ll do breakfast for dinner one night.”

Nesta nodded, but Cassian couldn’t tell if that was confirmation or just agreeing to shut him up. After a minute, she set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Speaking of breakfast, I’d prefer to not share the table with any friends you may bring home.”

Cassian’s brows lowered, not fully understanding. And then what she was saying clicked and he was coughing around the bite of food he’d been swallowing. He drank from the glass of water he’d grabbed, and cleared his throat, ensuring he could breathe. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“If I live here, it is my concern,” she said, going right back to eating, as if she hadn’t just brought up an extremely unexpected topic. “I don’t want Nyx to see a revolving door of women leaving either, he doesn’t need to get the wrong idea.”

Cassian could only stare at her, though when Nyx heard his name, he paused his eating to look up at her. He finally said, “He’s one, first of all, so he has no idea what that would even mean, and secondly, I can have whoever the hell I want here, and they can stay for breakfast. I live here, too.”

“Would you care to see an endless string of men coming out of my bedroom every morning?” Nesta asked, her tone light, but her eyes full of hellfire.

Cassian’s chewing slowed. No, he wouldn’t care to see that, but he’d never admit it. He wasn’t even one to bring women home...well, at least not often, but apparently she thought of him as some unhinged casanova.

“As long as you ask me to join, I don’t care who you bring home,” Cassian said.

Now it was Nesta’s turn to choke on the bite of steak she just took. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her eyes watered. After catching her breath and taking a long drink of water, she said, “That’s inappropriate.”

Nyx giggled, his lips covered in mashed potatoes, as if Nesta had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.

He took one last bite of his food before standing and carrying his plate over to the sink. “You don’t bring up my sex life and I won’t bring up yours. Deal?”

“Fine,” she said, picking up her plate as well and dropping it next to his on the counter. “You take care of the dishes, I’ll give Nyx his bath.”

“Fine.” That seemed to be their word to end conversations, as most of them ended with one of them snapping the word at the other, and it being repeated right back to them.

He wanted to fling more insults at her, wanted to snap that he wasn’t the man-whore she apparently thought he was. He never had been, despite the obscene amount of those stupid condoms she’d seen in his glove box all those years ago. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

He heard her unclipping Nyx’s high chair and then she was carrying him upstairs. Cassian was already wrist deep in soapy water when he heard the bathtub running from upstairs.

It was then that he realized he had originally told Nesta that he would give Nyx a bath tonight.

He didn’t pick him up from Elain’s.

He didn’t give him a bath like he said he would.

Maybe Nesta was right.

Maybe he was just setting himself up for failure.

As he scrubbed at the dishes, Cassian felt that sense of failure wash over him and sent a thought to Rhysand, wherever he was, hoping that his oldest friend wasn’t as disappointed in him as he was.

#snacmc lawki #life as we know it #nessian #nesta archeron #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #cassian #snacmc

204 notes · View notes

sunrisefairy · 4 years

Text

Swipe right

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: language, mentions of cheating/breakup, alcohol

Summary: The one where Y/N downloads tinder after a bad breakup

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa send me an ask if you would like to added!

————————————————————————

Y/N hated being single. She hated not having anyone waiting for her with dinner cooked and a glass of wine when she got home from work. She hated how empty her bed felt and not having anyone to cuddle after a tough week. She hated no one being there to listen to her ranting about her day. Y/N absolutely missed being in a relationship and being able to go through life with someone else by her side.

Y/N’s last relationship was 8 months ago, she had been with her ex Matthew for 6 months when it came crashing down. Y/N remembers the night she met Matthew vividly. Her friends had dragged her to some concert at this random underground bar. Y/N was at the bar ordering drinks when a breathtakingly handsome man with blond shaggy hair and piercing blue eyes offered to pay for the 3 beers she was ordering. Normally, Y/N would roll her eyes and not bother talking to random drunk men, especially when it was a girl’s night out like tonight. But something about Matthew caught her attention and she couldn’t walk away even if she wanted to. Matthew had this aura about him, he was very charismatic and could captivate anyone with his looks alone leaving those around him putty in his hands. Which is exactly what happened to Y/N.

Matthew and Y/N started dating shortly after that and she was completely smitten with the man. He seems to be just what Y/N needed. To Y/N he was the perfect boyfriend, he held all the traits she looked for in a partner, kind, funny, smart, supportive, everything except the trait which would be argued to be the most important – loyal. 6 months into their seemingly flawless relationship Y/N found Matthew-her supposedly perfect boyfriend, in bed with another girl.

The second Y/N saw the two of them in a rather compromising position in Matthew’s bed, Y/N felt her world collapse around her, her throat closed over making it hard to breath and her vision blurred. The events that followed are hazy in Y/N’s mind, she remembers screaming and yelling, she knows there had been a lot of tears (mostly from her), Matthew trying to beg for forgiveness, which is very hard to do when you’re butt naked and there potentially was a few items thrown in Matthews direction, deservingly so.

That night broke Y/N, it felt like Matthew had reached into her chest and yanked out her heart and crushed it to dust then spat on it. Apparently, douchebag Matthew and this girl had been shagging for basically the whole of his and Y/N’s relationship. She couldn’t believe it.

Y/N’s friends had spent most of the weeks that followed in the heartbroken girl’s apartment as she cried, screamed, yelled. It pained them to see their best friend so distraught. But surely, over time and with lots of ice cream and alcohol, Y/N was able to heal.

8 months later Y/N finally felt mostly whole again, she was able to smile and laugh without a hollow ache pounding in her chest and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She no longer dreamt of Matthew’s arm wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest when she dozed off, she forgot how it felt to kiss him and she stopped wanting to call him.

Y/N finally felt free, which she told Alicia and Angelina at their weekly girl’s night in. This led to Alicia trying to convince her to maybe start dating again, to test the waters as she put it.

“Okay, hear me out,” Alicia says waving her arms, somehow managing not to slip her wine on the couch, “I think Y/N should download tinder.”

Y/N scoffs and opens her mouth to disagree, but her words went unheard as Angelina squealed in excitement, “oh my god yes! Y/N you so should.”

Y/N shakes her head before sipping on her wine, enjoying the sweet taste on her lips. “Guys, I don’t think I’m ready to start dating, I definitely don’t think I’m ready for another relationship.”

“But that’s why tinder is so great, you don’t have to go on any dates if you don’t want to. You can just chat to some cute boys and see what happens.” Alicia replies, picking up Y/N’s phone from the coffee table and holds it out for her to unlock.

Y/N thinks for a moment, eyeing her phone, she doesn’t feel ready to jump into the dating scene still nervous about being let down again but there’s no harm in downloading tinder and seeing her options, right?

Y/N eyes are locked on her phone Alicia’s hand before muttering fine and unlocking it for her. Angelina giggled excitedly, moving closer to Alicia’s side to look at the phone. A few moments later the app was downloaded, and a profile was made. The 3 girls took turns swiping through profiles ogling the eye candy.

The phone was currently in Angelina’s hand while Alicia refilled everyone’s glasses, Y/N had lost count of how many glasses of wine she’s had tonight, her body buzzing from the alcohol. “Man, I forgot how much fun tinder is.” Angelina slurred, her thumb rapidly swiping through profiles.

“Okay Ang, we won’t tell Fred that you said that.” Y/N chuckles, Angelina just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, come off it.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning the 3 very hungover girls who had passed out in different spots of Y/N’s living room, somehow manage to drag themselves to brunch with Lee, Fred and George.

“Hello ladies, big night?” Fred winks then plants a sloppy kiss on Angelina’s cheek who mumbles a response that sound vaguely like a yes.

The 6 of them were sitting at a table outside, soaking up the sunshine and warm weather. Once their food is delivered the group is chatting aimlessly with one another. Y/N hears her phone ping from her bag, and she fishes it out to check the notification.

“Ohh, Y/N is it a tinder message?” Alicia says excitedly trying to peer over her shoulder.

“Tinder?” It’s George’s voice now. Y/N glances up at him from across the table, unable to read his expression, “since when does Y/N have tinder?”

“Since last night, the girls convinced me to download it. Kinda seems like time to start getting out there again.” Y/N replies shoving her phone back into her bag before one of her friends has the chance to snatch it from her even though the text was just from her mother.

“Maybe you should download tinder Georgie. ‘Bout time you got yourself a girlfriend.” Lee mumbles, his mouth full of food.

George shakes his head, looking down at his plate, “tinder isn’t for me. Besides your one to talk Lee, you’re single too.”

“Not anymore, I want to marry this eggs benedict.” Lee practically moans as he shovels another bite into his mouth.

Y/N laughs along with everyone, shaking her head slightly.

“I think you should George, I’d bet money that your dream girl is on there.” Fred smirks at George whose eyes widen at the comment and his cheeks heat up.

“Can we change the subject,” the redhead mutters scratching his neck, not meeting anyone’s gazes.

The conversation quickly moves on and Y/N finds herself still staring at George confused by his strange behaviour, also noticing the way her chest feels heavy at the mention of George’s ‘dream girl’. She pushes the feeling down and tears her eyes away from the redhead in front of her just before he glances up at her. The pair oblivious to the others intense gaze.

~ ~ ~

That night Y/N is snuggled up under her favourite fluffy blanket, on the couch, while some random romantic comedy is playing in the background.

Y/N has soon come to realise that tinder is addictive, she’s spent the better part of the last hour swiping through the many profiles. It doesn’t feel like she even has control of her fingers at this point, they apparently have a mind of their own.

Y/N starts to zone out, her finger automatically swiping for her. That is, until she stumbles across a particular profile and her finger freezes and her eyes bulge out of her head. Is that? George?

Y/N looks through his profile, there’s a picture that she had taken of him at the beach one summer, he’s lying on a towel, shirtless and the cheekiest grin plastered across his face. The next photo is of him and Ron from Harry’s surprise birthday Ginny threw last year. They are both looking smart in their suits, beaming brightly at the camera. Y/N can’t help but stare at George’s hand that’s wrapped tightly around a beer bottle, her mouth going dry as she zooms in on his veiny hand. There is also a photo of George from last Halloween where he had dressed as a pirate, Y/N chuckles, remembering how George had followed her around for most of the night, annoying her with his lame and corny pirate jokes. The last photo is her favourite out of them all. It’s of her and George at her recent birthday, he has his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head resting against hers. The pair of them smiling widely at the camera.

Y/N bites her lip trying to decide if she should swipe left or right. She’s always had a soft spot for George long before she started dating Matthew. She knew deep down she harboured a tiny crush on her friend but never acted on it, scared she’ll ruin their friendship if she confessed her feelings. Y/N always fantasised about what it would be like to date George Weasley. She would happily bet her life savings that George would be the perfect boyfriend, would treat his girlfriend with respect and shower them with love and affection. It’s the type of relationship Y/N yearned for, the type of relationship she thought she had with Matthew.

Y/N stared down at the phone in her hand, contemplating her next move. The temptation to swipe right was huge, finally being able to find out if George liked her but there was the possibility that if she does swipe right she’ll find out that George does not like her in that way and she doesn’t know if she could physically take that knowledge right now. Part of her debates on swiping left, thinking that way she can live her life blissfully unaware to whether or not George likes her. The idea of being unsure of his feelings seems very appealing then definitely knowing he sees her just as a friend. A small voice in her head tells her to just delete the app and pretend this never happened.

Y/N groans at her overthinking.

Just choose Y/N.

“Fuck it,” Y/N mutters squeezing her eyes shut before swiping right.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few minutes, trying not to picture the upsetting scenario where they do not match, and Y/N has to deal with her unrequited feelings towards the boy. She takes a deep breath and slowly opens her eyes trying to focus back on the phone in her shaky hand. It takes a moment to process the words on the screen before Y/N is jumping up from the couch squealing.

It’s a match!

Her happy dance is interrupted when her phone dings, indicating a new message. Y/N swears her heart stops beating and she scrambles onto the couch to grab her phone.

George: Do my eyes deceive me or have I captured the attention of the lovely Y/N?

Y/N snorts at his message, butterflies erupting inside her stomach unable to get over the fact that George Weasley likes her.

Y/N: Consider yourself lucky Georgie, not many are worthy enough of my attention ;)

Y/N: But wait, I thought you didn’t have tinder? You said tinder wasn’t for you

George: I didn’t… well up until 1 hour ago. Fred convinced me to download it so I could try and find your profile. He said I should at least try and confess my feelings…

Y/N: And? What are your feelings?

George: that I am hopelessly in love with you. Have been since forever but I’ve been too chicken to admit it.

George: I was going to tell you I swear, but then you started dating that tosser Matthew and I lost my chance.

George: After you two broke up, Fred bugged me to say something to you but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

Y/N studies the messages. Long before Matthew was even a thought in her mind, she knew she would leap at the opportunity to date George. But that was before she had her heart shattered into a million of tiny pieces. She told Alicia and Angelina that she wasn’t ready to date, she didn’t think her heart could take it. And if this was any other guy, she would gently let them down. But this wasn’t just any guy, this was George Weasley. The man who never failed to make her smile and laugh till tears was streaming down her face. The man who help pick up the shards of her heart and help mend it back together. The man who would always answer her phone call, no matter the time of night. Y/N knew she’d be stupid to let go of George Weasley.

~ ~ ~

George was a wreck; he was pacing around his living room basically pulling out his hair with how much he’s run his fingers through it. It had been 30 minutes since he messaged Y/N and admitted his feelings, telling her he loves her. And she hasn’t replied!

George knew he shouldn’t have said anything, clearly Y/N was just curious about his profile, just wanting to see if they’d match and she definitely does not love him back let alone like him.

He wanted to throttle Fred for convincing him to make this stupid tinder account and embarrassing him like this, now George has gone and fucked up his friendship with Y/N.

George stops pacing when he hears knocking from his front door. His eyebrows knit in confusion about who would be visiting him at this hour. George chooses to ignore it, deciding he doesn’t want to see anyone right now, all he wants to do is open some vodka and drown his sorrows. He makes it into the kitchen when the knocking starts back up again, this time louder and faster.

“Okay I’m coming!” George shouts annoyed, “Jesus, I swear this better be import-” his words disappear as soon as he opens the door and is faced with Y/N.

“What are you doing here?” Georges words come out short and brunt, but Y/N doesn’t seem to notice.

She is fiddling with her fingers and anxiously chewing on her bottom lip. “I figured this wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to have over tinder.”

Y/N is silent, the words getting stuck halfway up her throat, she doesn’t really trust her voice to be steady enough to talk. So, she decides on another route of communicating her feelings to George.

Slowly she cups Georges faces in her small hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. George seems frozen still as Y/N softly pulls his face to down towards hers, their lips millimetres from one another. She can feel his shaky breath on her face. It feels like forever before Y/N connects their lips together, George seems to snap out of his trance as his hands wrap tightly around Y/N’s waist, holding her body close. Their lips mould together perfectly and fireworks erupt in Y/N’s belly. She feels alive and her heart is thumping in her chest and all she can think of is George. George is clouding her thoughts and, in this moment, she doesn’t want anything else to ever occupy her brain. Her heart feels warm and whole as if George had kept the final piece of her heart in his possession to keep save until she was ready and willing to give him the whole thing. Y/N doesn’t feel scared anymore of the thought of loving someone again because she knows for certain now that she’s always loved George.

They pull away from the kiss, breathlessly, George rests his forehead against Y/N’s needing to feel close to her still.

A tear slips from Y/N’s eye which George softly kisses away.

“I love you too George. Always”

#George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley x you #George Weasley fluff #George Wealsey one shot #George Weasley oneshot #George Weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley imagine

238 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

Her Mess (Christen x Reader)

Request: Christen x reader where reader is younger and in college and reader meets the team

It was safe to say that you had always been a bit of a mess. You would argue that you were an organized mess, but Christen would disagree. If the gay mess you turned into the first time Mal had ever introduced you to her was anything to go off of. Yes, you were a mess, but you were her mess, and she took great joy in helping to keep you on track.

From the very beginning, she had helped you with your schedule. Made sure you ate and gave yourself time for studying and soccer. She never overstepped, she was your girlfriend not your mother after all, but she was definitely the organized one in your relationship.

It was why the prospect of traveling without her was incredibly daunting. She was already at camp with the rest of the national team (who you would be meeting for the first time) and you would be meeting them there with Mal after the two of you finished finals. To say you were nervous was an understatement. It was your first call up, and though your girlfriend and best friend had assured you it would be fine, you weren’t so sure. You had quadruple checked the list of things Christen and you had made, but even as you left the plane you were sure you had left something important. You were going to meet the team and you didn’t know if you were supposed to be meeting Christen too, or if you two were going, to be honest.

You sighed, running your hand through your messy hair, before slipping your beanie back on. Your knee jumped up and down impatiently, and you bit your lip. You didn’t like waiting. Why did this car ride have to be so long?

“Do I need to call Mama Press or are you going to chill out on your own?” Mal said finally, her hand coming down to still your leg. You grinned sheepishly at her.

“I just-... What if they don’t like me, and what if they’re weirded out by the age difference?” You rambled, your fingers tapping on the car window.

“You’re like the funniest person I know. The team is going to love you! And I’ll be honest, It was a little weird at first for the person who was like my sister to be dating someone who was basically my mom. But after watching you two together, it’s obvious that you were made for each other,” Mal said softly, her hand running soothing circles on your thigh. You frowned.

“What if she doesn’t want to tell them that she’s dating me because she’s ashamed of the age difference?” You asked softly, staring intently at your lap. Sure, Mal was cool with the age difference now, and so we’re your parents, but you knew that there were a lot of people out there who weren’t. Plus Christen was the Christen Press, and you were just a disorganized rookie.

Gentle fingers tilted your chin up, and your Y/e/c met Mal’s brown.“Christen is a lot of things. I don’t think ashamed is one of them,”

You nodded, returning your attention to the city passing by. You loved Christen, and you hoped that Mal was right.

******

Most people would hate getting off a plane and stepping directly into practice, but you were grateful for it. The field was your happy place, a place you didn’t have to think about all the what-ifs. A place where you could simply showcase your skills.

By the time you and Mal made it to the locker room, it was nearly empty. (Barring your girlfriend, who had stayed back to give you a tight hug and kiss, and Tobin who just sent you a small smile).

“You ready for this cutie?” Your girlfriend asked, settling down on the bench beside you, nudging you with her shoulder, and placing a kiss on your pink cheeks.

You stuck your tongue out at Mal who made a gagging sound.

“I think so,” You shrugged, rooting through your bag to find the last items of your gear, things you were sure you had put in this morning. Your eyebrows furrowed as you shoved your shin guards aside in search of your socks.

“Is it true you have the sprint record for UCLA?” Tobin nudged your other side. You nodded, not taking your eyes off of the contents of your bag. Had you been paying more attention, you probably would have freaked out that the Tobin Heath knew who you were.

“Don’t forget the juggling record either,” Mal added, smiling. You had quite the reputation for putting defenders on their asses, and it was going to be entertaining watching you work your magic with the national team.

“Damn,” Tobin mumbled wide eyes. She was going to have to call dibs on you for the scrimmage. You barely spared her a glance, groaning as you continued to dig for an item you were beginning to fear wasn’t in your bag. You took a deep breath, trying not to panic. Of course you had forgotten something important on your first camp with the national team.

Christen rubbed your back, her head tilting to the side as you ignored one of your heroes (your hero being her best friend was something she found immensely entertaining), her hand coming up to rub your back. “What are you looking for my darling,”

“I forgot my socks,” you huffed, shoving your bag to the floor pouting. Christen’s lips ticked up slightly as she leaned in to kiss your pink cheeks.

“That’s alright. I have an extra pair for you in my bag,”

Your blush deepened as you took the extra pair, slipping them on your feet. You nodded in thanks, she simply winked in return. She knew you’d forget something. You always did.

******

Meeting the team was an… experience. Kelley had immediately jumped on top of you, squealing about a new baby to corrupt before she was pulled off by Alex. Ashlyn and Ali had argued with Becky and Alyssa about who was going to be your team moms. The youngins had bombarded you with so many questions that it felt like your head was spinning. But through it, all Christen’s hand remained firmly in yours.

Standing in line, waiting for the forward vs defender drill to begin was a surreal experience for you. You watched with a keen eye as Mal went first and nearly navigated the ball past Becky. You kissed Christen’s cheek before she went and cleanly got past Kelley. Tobin took the next spot, pulling a clean nutmeg off on Abby. You were going to have to one-up her.

You took a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves, waiting to see which defender you would be up against.

“You good kid?” Megan asked, bumping your shoulder with her. You blinked, fighting the urge to squeal that The Megan Rapino was talking to you.

“Hm, excited!” You smiled, biting your lip as Sonnett took her place at the front of her line. Sonnett was good, but you were better and your desire to make a good first impression meant that you were really going to have to put on a show. There would be no better partner for the dance you had planned.

“Think you can best Sonnett?” Carli smirked, tapping you the ball.

“Definitely. Cant let a Cavalier get one over on me,” You winked, beginning to juggle the ball. Yeah, this was going to be fun.

******

“Holy shit, how are you so fast,” Emily panted, catching up to you after you’d made another shot at an unsuspecting Alyssa Naeher. It speared just past her fingertips, making the goal rattle as it made contact with the net.

“I ate lots of fudge striped cookies when I was younger,” You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead and heading towards the sidelines for your water break. From the time you were little you had believed wholeheartedly that the cookies made you run faster.

“Fudge stripped what?” Emily asked, her eyebrows furrowing beside you.

“Made by the Keebler elves. They’re magic,” You shrugged, glancing around for the greenbottle with your name on it, entirely unaware of the odd looks the team was giving you and the loving smile your girlfriend was sporting. “Where did I put my bottle?”

“It’s over-“ Mal started, only to be cut off by Christen’s elbow being lodged in her ribs.

“Take mine babe,” She laughed, passing you her bottle. You nodded in thanks, squirting the liquid into your mouth. What would you do without her? Mal smirked over your head at the green-eyed forward. Maybe part of your forgetfulness was her love of coming to your rescue.

“Sick ball skills Ducky,” Tobin clapped you in the back.

“Thanks!” You squeaked, the stream of water missing your mouth and spraying Christen in the chest. “Oops,” You giggled.

“If you want me to kiss you, you did it have to get me all wet, you could just ask,” She winked and you felt heat wash over your cheeks, all your previous confidence evaporating.

Mal covered her ears and shook her head fast. “Please don’t answer that with the comeback you’re thinking of,”. You smirked, shaking your head. You wouldn’t force her to bear her best friend and her team mom flirting.

“Hmm, I love your kisses,”

Christen giggled, wrapping her arms around your waist, and pulling you into a quick kiss. You pulled away when the team wolf-whistled, burying your face in your girlfriend's chest.

“Told you she wasn’t embarrassed,” Mal said, patting your back.

“Yeah, how could she when you put everyone on their ass,” Sonnett cackled. Your groan was muffled by your girlfriend's soft skin. Her fingers found their way under your chin, coaxing you out of your favorite hiding place. You Y/e/c eyes met her green ones.

“You thought I was embarrassed?” She asked softly, and you gave her a slight nod. How couldn’t she be? She was the Christen Press and you were just a bumbling college student who would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her body.

“You’re you, and you have everything together, and I’m me and I forget everything,” You mumbled, shrugging.

“Well, I love you, even when you forget stuff. Plus, You look really cute in my clothes,” She kissed your nose and your cheeks before landing on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, enjoying the way her soft lips felt against yours.

It didn’t matter that you were younger. You would prove yourself to be an asset to the team and Christen loved you.

“Did they forget we’re here?” Emily’s whisper read followed by a slapping sound and Lindsey’s voice.

“Way to ruin a moment Sonnett,”

Yes. You were a mess, but you were Christen’s mess and you’d fit right in.

#christen press x reader #christen press imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines

471 notes · View notes

kyloswarstars · 3 years

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 2

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

The donut shop had air conditioning. It was pure heaven. A donut shop was heaven to you 365 days a year anyways. The AC, though… yes.

Christina chewed on her third blue glazed donut and refused to answer your questions. First, she refused. Then, she tried to talk her way out of it. In the end, she mentioned the friendship code, which applied in this case to Eric, and therefore she couldn’t say anything.

The confusion was real. You didn’t understand anything when most of the time you always understood everything. Following things you knew:

A) Eric always entangled you in debates. Sometimes it was a civil exchange, most of the times he got your blood boiling until you were close to lose your temper. This happened in class and other college surroundings, where you talked about a study related topic.

B) Until last week you always thought it was because of his ego and pure strive to demonstrate his intellect why he went for, at some point, the silliest of statements you had ever heard.

C) You also thought he did it just to piss you off.

D) Then last week happened. Then this afternoon happened and left you entirely confused.

E) Christina must know another reason why Eric constantly sought for an academic dispute. His statement from a couple hours ago, that there was ‚no reason‘, was highly suspicious. But Chris also didn’t tell you the reason.

F) That only led you to one, logical guess on what that unsaid reason could be.

„Is this about him having a long planned strategy to become the number one student of our year?“ Him seeing you as a serious competition to that title was the only reason you could think of. It wasn’t too odd of an assumption since after all those debates, silly statements or not, he was one of the smartest guys you had met so far.

Chris swallowed a bit of her new donut. Donut number four. „He isn’t in our year.“

You had sipped on your milkshake and instantly looked up. „What do you mean?“ Having to ask that question again frustrated you.

„That he’s way past us. He just finished his third year of medical school.“

„Excuse me?“ You got up from your seat and started wandering around the empty donut shop. „I’m surprised my body hasn’t taken the form of a question mark yet,“ you slowly talked yourself into a frenzy. „Christina, you’re telling me that Eric, who keeps pissing me off in two of my classes, for the last two years, isn’t even in my year? That he’s studying to become a doctor?“ Please behold me from chopping off a finger or something and him helping me.

She looked a little guilty for not giving you more information. Also a little amused.

„I am studying to become a damn mathematician. Why on earth would a medical student attend those classes?“

Christina had the audacity to laugh out loud. „I’m sorry, Y/N.“ Karma came around instantly and made her choke on a piece of donut for a few seconds. You hurried over to harshly pat her back until she coughed it out. „All I know is,“ she was still gasping for air, „he sometimes takes random classes for fun. Or for one of his big assignments.“

That was all. You wouldn’t get any further information. She crossed her arms and ignored all of your remaining questions. At least she left the donut shop with a stomachache and you knowing that Eric wasn’t even a math student.

/////

Once a week all roommates had at least one dinner together. ‚To strengthen the community‘ Uriah mumbled to you while you helped him turn the groceries, he and Chris had bought today, into a prober dish. Rice with a lot of veggies was the meal for tonight.

You were the last one to sit down and were surprised, and a little nervous, to find Eric sitting in the spot across from yours. He must’ve come home while you were still concentrating on not letting the veggies burn to death.

Christina hardly ate anything after her five donuts. Being a reasonable adult, you only had one donut at the shop.

„Who chose to put mushrooms in there?“ Eric didn’t look too glad when his fork discovered a tiny mushroom.

„Me,“ you stated, not afraid to have another silly debate. This time probably about how mushrooms shouldn’t be harvested because it takes away a food supply for deers.

„Next time just roast it short. Don’t turn it into these rubber–“

„Shut up, Eric.“ Four intervened. „Be glad someone made dinner.“

Exactly. You smiled at Four for his backup and continued eating. Even though you highly concentrated on the bowl in front of you, your eyes occasionally moved to Eric, to see if he had found another thing he disliked about the meal. And every single time his eyes met with yours.

This dinner wasn’t like all the previous ones you had here since moving in. It was unusually quiet. Everyone headed pretty fast into their rooms after finishing up and collectively cleaning the dishes.

Eric lingered around and was actually the last one to help you with putting back the plates and cutlery to where they belonged. You leaned to the countertop and tried not to stare too obviously when he stretched to place some glasses on the top shelf. He wore a t-shirt where he must’ve cut off the sleeves and the way his arm muscles moved, with every glass he put on that shelf, should be forbidden.

What? Oh man. That you caught yourself thinking that way, even though Eric didn’t notice it because he was still occupied with the dishes, made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You hid your hands in your pockets to act casual. That’s when you noticed one of the many papers that were spread in nearly every clothing pocket and backpack of yours.

One of the many habits – coping mechanisms, actually – you had, was to write down unsolved problems in mathematics and brood over them whenever your brain was close to panic itself into a breakdown. To sit down and concentrate on a problem and search for a possibility to solve it, was what got you to study the most hated subject in the first place.

You pulled the paper out and checked what it referred to. The Riemann zeta function.

You tried to recall if any of the many debates with Eric ever had been about mathematics. They had never been about math at all you realised. The classes he had gone to were the social orientated ones. Those, where you discussed scenarios and ways on how to solve problems with a mathematical solution. Or at least help out along the way. And the debates were mostly about the logical or philosophic aspects. The reason why it had always been so easy for Eric to pull you into those discussions was because you didn’t study mathematics just for the sake of it. You didn’t want to become only a professor to teach others about it. You wanted to help people with all the abilities math provided. For example the study you worked on right now: a mathematical model to predict the success of immunotherapy for patients with cancer.

This is perfect.

There was no way Eric could enter a serious debate about the zeta function and not show that he studied something completely different. With a grin on your lips you cleared your throat to get his attention. Eric crossed his arms as he turned to you.

The game is on.

„Since you know everything better than me, and us living under the same roof now, I was wondering if you would take a look at some equations. I’m kinda stuck.“

Something in his face changed but he still said: „Sure.“

That’s a mistake, my friend. You handed him the paper, which he had to unfold his arms for again to take it. Those arms were bigger than the pile of books next to your mattress. Why did you never notice his muscles before? And why did you never notice that sharp jawline?

The concentration on his face didn’t give away that he had absolutely no clue what was on that paper. Time did. A minute or two went by without him looking up or saying a word. „That seems like a serious problem. I’m passing.“

„What are you studying again?“ Your voice as innocent as you could manage it to be.

„Why would you ask?“ He played it off. The crooked smile on his lips let you know he had a feeling for where this conversation would go, though.

„Because someone studying mathematics, like I do, would recognise the famous zeta function whose solution would earn you a reward of one million dollars.“

„I never said I study mathematics, Y/N.“ Eric grinned like you were the fool here. Like you had overseen something big. Like your little trap hadn’t worked.

„But you attend four full semesters of classes that aren’t necessary? Are you having such a big problem with me that you just can’t stay away?“ His stupid grin made it worse. That rage came rushing in because those ludicrous disputes sometimes had you thinking you were a complete idiot. „I mean no normal person would take those two extra classes for four solid semesters on top of damn medical classes. What’s wrong with you?“

„I like the extra knowledge.“ He simply stated, snapped a bottle of water from the countertop and slowly made his way down the hallway to his room. „And debating with you.“

/////

For your own wellbeing, and not to flip every time you thought about Eric being the biggest prick on this earth, you decided he was just a little sadist. Who had probably his only fun by infuriating you. You were glad to know about that hobby of his now and could focus on the more important things in life until next semester.

He just didn’t make it easy at all. Living under the same roof had diverted the debates from class to the dining table. Plus it had added a lot of other intentional disturbance on his part.

For a while you tried to just ignore it because he was a sadist, as you declared. On the other hand he exactly got what he had aimed at. Your anger.

„Eric,“ you shouted at the wall, knowing very well that he could hear you because you heard perfectly fine what kind of little movie he was watching. It paused for a few seconds and you breathed out in relief. Then it started again. So you raised your voice another time. „Use damn headphones!“

The only thing that happened was Uriah peeking his head in your room, with some incredibly high raised eyebrows. „Are you okay?“

„I am not.“ You buried your face in your hands. „Eric is watching porn and I can’t concentrate,“ you stated in despair.

„I’ll handle it,“ he smiled and was fast to knock at Eric’s door and enter his room after a ‚come in‘. They discussed for a while and Uriah gave you a thumbs up as he passed your room on his way back to the kitchen. Problem solved? Sounded like it. No noise from the other side of the room anymore.

The newest data had come in for the study this morning and you didn’t get anywhere yet. You just hadn’t been able to because of… picturing Eric watching porn. Ban it from your consciousness. With another deep breath, you started working in the newest data and focus only on your task. And it worked for a couple of minutes. Until Eric decided not to use headphones anymore and his porn noises echoed through the wall again.

I will strangle him in his sleep one night.

/////

A/N • I'm enjoying this way too much so there will soon be another update. probably next weekend. ok bye

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld

Wanna get tagged too for future updates? Lemme know 🖤

83 notes · View notes

fakecrfan · 3 years

Note

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important.

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest.

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway.

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses.

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating. There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry.

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!”

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle.

“Help,” she croaks out again.

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs.

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark.

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap.

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But…

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died.

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.”

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying.

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them.

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin.

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway.

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle.

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.

#my writing #tma fic #post post apocalypse #cw: suicide mention #cw: familial separation #cw: mass death #Basira Hussain

23 notes · View notes

rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 8)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: big nsfw warning, drinking, jimmy being himself, fluff

words: 3.6k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: so. layla’s a freak in the... well... not necessarily the sheets, i guess? more stressy hands because they're my weakness, and just... please savour the last bit of happiness you get here. that is all. (two more chappies to go!!!) hope you enjoy :) feedback as always is so very welcome!

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

———

As she’s checking over the stage, ensuring the lights and speakers are set to do their job, Layla’s thoughts roam. After the chaos at the hotel pool, while everyone was asleep, Layla had been anything but. Her tossing and turning had disturbed Jimmy, who had pulled her further into his arms with a tired grunt. She lay there for another hour, her conversation with Jonesy running through her mind over and over. It was obvious she’d have to go back to her own time, and she missed her friends. She missed her mom. She missed everything.

Layla couldn't help, though, but think that maybe she didn’t want to leave.

She had made friends that meant the world to her, and… she’d found Jimmy. The guitarist had changed her life, and had shown her what it meant to love. She’s falling for him, and it’s not long before she hits the ground. It’ll be worth it, she thinks, for someone like him. Jimmy Page is a rare gem, precious, and she knows that she would spend her life trying to find her way back to him.

A throat clears from behind her, and, looking over her shoulder, Layla spots Peter Grant standing a few feet away. Soft smile resting upon his lips, he steps closer, placing a large hand on Layla’s shoulder.

“Layla, I trust everything’s going well?”

“Yep! Lights and sound are looking good, and the stage is set up. Anything else you need me to do?”

“No, this is perfect, dear,” Peter shakes his head, smile morphing into a smirk as he continues. “Though, you’ve been requested elsewhere. Follow me, Layla.” Leading her through the venue, Peter stops in front of a closed door, a laminated sign next to it reading, “Dressing Room: Led Zeppelin”. Turning to Layla, he holds out an arm, beckoning her to take it.

“Shall we?”

“We shall, Peter.”

Arm in arm, they walk into the room. Robert, lying elegantly across the comfortable couch pressed against the wall, has his eyes closed. He hasn’t thrown up yet, but his voice is hoarse, and he has a terrible cough. Knowing these boys as well as she does, Layla suspects that nothing will bring them down. The show must go on, after all. Bonzo is next to him, Robert’s feet in his lap. The drummer speaks quietly to the sick man, who answers in the voice of a 20-year smoker. Jonesy speaks in hushed tones to Jimmy, eyebrows pinched in worry. Jimmy, Layla realizes, has his finger in a bowl of what looks to be ice water, if the cubes of ice scattered across the table are anything to go by. From the doorway, Layla can’t hear what’s being said, but by the downwards tilt of Jonesy’s lips, she can assume Jimmy’s stubbornness is on full display again. Her entrance with Peter hadn’t been noticed, until Robert’s eyes open to slits and he sits up, a smile breaking out on his face.

“Peter! Ah, look, if it isn’t my favourite little dove…”

“Hey, Robert. How are you feeling?”

“Better, better,” Robert smiles, and stands up to pull Layla into a hug, hands splayed across her back. “All thanks to you, Layla. Seriously, thank you for taking care of me.”

Layla grins in response, waving at Bonzo as she passes. He lifts up a hand, as if to splash the woman, and her face lights up, a giggle flying out past her lips. Layla walks over to Jonesy, and he gives her an uncertain look, beckoning her closer. Leaning close, he whispers into the woman’s ear, a worried glance at the guitarist beside him following.

“He was in a lot of pain, even with the meds, so he, uh… found a bottle of Jack’s and… Layla, he won’t listen.”

As if on cue, Jimmy takes a pull from the large bottle of whiskey that rested next to him on the table. Layla hadn’t noticed it, walking in, but it stuck out like a sore thumb now.

“Hey, petal,” Jimmy slurs slightly, bottle in hand as he sends the woman a lazy smile. Injured finger in plain view now, Layla can see how the nail is completely black, the skin around it still dyed purple from the force applied to it. Layla shakes her head, eyes downcast, as she walks closer to Jimmy. She grasps the bottle of alcohol in his hand, replacing it with her own, a warm palm meeting his.

“Jimmy… you can’t just…” Layla drifts off, not wanting to argue with him this close to showtime. They can always talk about this later, after all. Jimmy, noticing her internal battle even through his alcohol-fueled haze, pulls her into his lap. Jonesy, confident that Jimmy is in good hands, nods at Layla before giving the couple a moment to themselves. Jimmy brings a finger to the apple of Layla’s cheek, stroking it almost hesitantly, as though she would break under a stronger touch. Layla’s eyes, once meeting his, drift to his plump, pink lips. They shine in the artificial light, as he swipes his tongue across to wet them.

“Layla,” Jimmy starts, snapping her out of her trance. Her eyes meet his, and he smirks at her dilated pupils. She knew he had caught her staring, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What is the meaning of life? Please, answer seriously. This is important.”

“Jimmy, I didn’t peg you as someone who indulges in drunk philosophical discussions.”

Jimmy huffs a sigh, and leans in closer, pressing a quick kiss against her lips. Pulling back, he looks at their joined hands, before meeting her eye once more.

“Humour me.”

“Well—”

Before she could answer, Peter floats back into the room, telling the boys to follow him backstage. It’s showtime, and Layla doesn’t want her guitarist to leave yet. Jimmy looks at her expectantly, green eyes searching her face as though the answer to his question was written in the curve of her lips.

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” she says, squeezing the hand in hers, passing courage from one to the other. “We can continue this after the show.”

Jimmy nods, and releases her hand slowly, not wanting to break the contact. Layla hops out of his lap, and helps him stand. Her lips meet his in a soft kiss, as she presses their foreheads together. Their eyelashes flutter against each other, and the scent of citrus, tobacco and pine was ever-present, invading all of Layla’s senses. Jimmy pulls away first, and walks to the door, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She smiles at him, adrift in the empty dressing room, and he smiles back, walking out the door.

“Good luck, angel.” Layla whispers, voice swallowed up by the silence of the deserted dressing room.

Making her way to the familiar lip of the backstage area, Layla’s hands wring together, her lips bitten red. Robert hadn’t sounded well at all earlier, and Jimmy… It seemed like he was deteriorating right before her eyes. The mixture of codeine and Jack Daniels killed the pain, sure, but he was no longer the sharp, pragmatic man she was falling for. He was too caught up in the burn of the drink down his throat, a way to forget the agony rushing through his hand like a current. Bringing her attention back to the stage, she spots the boys, who share a loaded glance. Robert takes a deep breath, and launches right in. ‘Rock and Roll’ passes without a hitch, save for some voice cracks. If anything though, they add to the authentic performance, the crowd electric as usual. ‘Sick Again’ stuns, followed by ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’, and all is well, until ‘How Many More Times’ rolls around.

It was small. Insignificant, really. If Layla hadn’t been searching Jimmy’s face, entranced by the way his brow furrowed as he got lost in the music, she wouldn't have noticed. Breaking apart from the rest of the band to complete a complicated lick, Jimmy’s fingers trip up on the fretboard. To the audience, the only consequence is a slight dead note in the midst of heavenly riffs. Gazing over at Jimmy, however, Layla could see the discomfort in the downwards tilt of his lips, and the pain stiffening his shoulders. She could see the anger flaming in his dark eyes. Jimmy recovers well, delivering attack after attack, though his solos, from that point on, tended to go a little off-track. Whether from nerves or self-doubt, Layla didn't know. But she knows him. She knows the guitarist will let it cloud the entire night. She knows he’s gonna pick the show apart, minute after exhilarating minute, looking for the smallest flaw. Layla knows that she’ll be there for him through it all.

No matter what.

----------

With a hoarse thank you and a flourish directed at the audience, Robert finally leads the band off-stage to voltaic cheers. Robert, ecstatic as ever during the concert, seems to deflate the second he gets off. With a nod and a soft smile at Layla, he disappears into the depths of the backstage area. Jonesy and Bonzo pass by with tight-lipped smiles, clapping her on the shoulder as they follow Robert. Jimmy is the last to appear, and the reason for the rhythm section’s warning glances becomes apparent immediately.

Jimmy scowls as he approaches, eyes glassy, as though she were looking into a clear stream. Layla can see herself reflected in them; can see the worry reflected in her own gaze. Slipping a hand around his bicep, she steers Jimmy into a corner. He refuses to look at her, even as her hand tilts his face upwards softly.

“Jimmy, love, that was—”

“Shit.”

“No, not at all,” Layla steps closer, a hand finding the familiar spot on his cheek. “It was a great show. You saw the audience, Jim. They loved you guys!”

“It was shit, and everyone knows it. If I could just—”

“Jimmy, come on…”

“—be good enough, this would have gone differently.”

Layla’s breath catches, eyes as wide as saucers as she steps closer to the guitarist, who turns away. His gaze at the floor never wavers as he paces, muttering to himself.

“Jimmy, look at me,” Layla stops him in his tracks with a hand at his back. His shoulders heave with deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down. “You played a good gig. It doesn’t matter if you missed a note or two. You came to play a great show, and you did.”

“But it isn't enough. These people came here for an extraordinary show and we couldn't deliver. I couldn't deliver, and—”

“Hey—”

“—if my finger wasn’t broken, we would have been as good as we’ve always been. This is my fault.”

“Jimmy, this isn’t on you. You did nothing wrong.”

Jimmy’s hands fly up to land in his hair, as he pulls at it almost unconsciously. Layla grips his cheek lightly, as the other hand comes to rest at a thin wrist, pulling it away from the dark locks it had latched onto. Jimmy averts his eyes from the woman’s earnest gaze and turns his back once more, treading a hole in the wooden floor of the backstage area. Layla’s palm rubs soft circles into the fabric of his cardigan, patches of whispering dandelions catching on her fingers. From her place behind him, she can see the way he’s beating a fist into the palm of his injured hand repeatedly, perhaps a way to atone for a mistake that hasn’t been committed.

“I fucked up this tour. It’s my fault. I can’t do everything I know I can do, and that’s on me. I just…”

“Jimmy…”

“I can’t do this anymore!”

Layla shrinks back slightly at the exclamation form the man, who is shaking like a leaf. His head drops, long hair hiding his face once again. Recovering quickly, she spins him around carefully to face her. Hands cupping his cheeks, she presses her lips to his. His eyes flutter closed and he immediately reciprocates, a hand pressed to Layla's hips; his new favourite spot for them. Jimmy lets out a whine of pleasure, and Layla pulls away, looking into his tired eyes.

“Jimmy, listen to me. You did play well. I am so, so proud of you. Okay?”

“...Okay. I’ll… work on trying to believe you.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

If Layla sees the sparkle and shine of tears on the man’s cheeks, she doesn't mention it as she grabs his hand, leading him to an empty room, locking the door immediately.

Finally away from prying eyes, Layla unfurls the guitarist’s hands from their clenched position, bringing the injured one up near her mouth. Gazing up at him, eyes shining in the dim light of the room, she presses a chaste kiss to each finger, slowing as she reaches the one painted shades of purple and black and blue. Jimmy nods, exhale shaky, and she presses the softest of kisses to the tip, hoping to cause pleasure rather than pain.

Jimmy’s hands slide lower from their place on her hips to cup her bum lightly, in case she was uncomfortable and wanted to slip out of his grasp. Her lips find his again as he pushes her against the large table in the middle of the room. Layla lets out a whimper, swallowed by the mouth against hers, as Jimmy’s tongue laps at her bottom lip, asking for entrance. He’s always been soft with her, but this new side of the dark-haired guitarist excited her. The kiss was over as soon as it began, Jimmy pulling away to stare at her, close enough still that their noses touched.

“Petal, I… We were gonna take it slow, and we will, but if you're ready…”

“I’m ready.”

Jimmy smiles, crashing his lips against her quickly, passionately. Pulling back once more, Jimmy smirks as Layla chases the high the feel of his lips gave her. Pressing into his space again, she frowns, which makes Jimmy chuckle. Layla’s hand reaches up, twisting in his hair.

“Angel,” Layla starts, a light tug on a mussed ebony ringlet following the nickname. His mossy eyes were dark with desire, and he placed his lips on her neck, kissing a trail down her jaw, stopping at her collarbone. Slipping the sweat-soaked cardigan off his shoulders, she traces a line down his cheek, eyes glued to his blush-red lips. “Can you lie down on the table for me? Please do try not to break any other body parts.”

“Haven’t I told you I’m afraid of heights?” Jimmy laughs, and with a small smile thrown over his shoulder, he hops up onto the table.

“You overlooked that, love,” Layla says, unbuttoning her blouse ever-so-slowly, surely teasing the guitarist, who leans back on his elbows. His eyes follow her every move as she takes off the rest of her clothing. “Now, I feel like you might have too many clothes on, Jim. We need to be even, after all.”

Slipping his pants and underwear off in record time, he reclines back, already hard. Fully exposed now, Layla climbs up onto the table as well, straddling the man’s lap, before sinking herself onto him. A calloused hand lands on her hips, helping her find the perfect position, until a soft groan rang through the near-empty room. Jimmy’s hands move up to her breasts, toying with the woman’s nipples, much to her delight. Layla grabs onto his chest for support, craning her head back in pure euphoria at the sensation, the hollow of her neck exposed as Jimmy raises up to nip at it. Grinding her hips to the rhythm of the man’s soft groans, she trails hickies up his chest and neck.

“Something to remember me by.” she says, looking at him with dark eyes, a haze of lust filling them. Hand gripping Layla’s ass tightly, he brings her ever-closer, a mumbled “fuck” leaving the woman’s kiss-bitten lips. The guitarist’s face is creased with absolute exhilaration, as he rocks back and forth to the movement of Layla’s body on his. The couple didn’t know where one ended and the other began. Ecstasy fills the room, and whispers of praise flow like music from lips bruised and bitten.

“You did so well today, angel. You’re incredible.”

Jimmy raises up once more to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, a hand raking through the woman’s hair roughly, landing on her throat. Jimmy squeezes it lightly, warningly, and presses his lips to Layla’s once more, swallowing the shriek of pleasure she gasps out.

“You liked that, petal?” Jimmy’s hoarse voice reaches Layla’s ears almost belatedly, too caught up in the pleasure of his hands on her, though she nods as if her life depended on it. Panting hard now, Layla quickens her pace, noises of pleasure growing louder. With the friction of his hand on her, roaming everywhere it could reach, Layla felt divine; heavenly in this embrace. Leaning down for a heavy, passionate kiss, Jimmy’s hand finds her hair again, and he tugs on it hard. The pain elicits a moan from Layla, as she reaches her peak.

With a stuttered breath, Jimmy releases as well, gasps leaving his lips as he looks at Layla reverently. The wetness from her core rushes over him as she lays back down beside him, spent. Back arching as she pants, her head turns to face him, faces painted with bliss.

In a post-coitus haze, Jimmy has his arms wrapped securely around Layla’s shoulders, as her head rests on his chest. Layla giggles tiredly, as her breaths ruffle the dark hair on Jimmy’s chest. Looking up at him, she’s pleased to see him looking right back at her.

“That certainly cheered you up, didn’t it?”

“You’re the best at cheering me up after all. This, of course, was just a bonus.” Jimmy noses at her messy hair, smelling a combination of fresh linen, sweat and her shampoo; hints of strawberry and mango tickling his nose.

“We should get up, the boys are probably looking for us,” Layla says, dragging light fingers across his stomach, watching goosebumps appear on the pale skin. Whether it’s from the sensation or the chill of the table, Layla didn't know, but she’s comfortable in his embrace, in danger of drifting off.

“What if we just… stayed here forever. They can find another guitarist.”

“You’re pretty irreplaceable, Page,” Layla whispers, reaching up to press her lips to his jaw. “I mean, who would the boys chaperone if you were gone?”

“Chaperone? I’m not that bad. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Right, so Robert was lying about the time you refused to sleep for 5 days out of pure adrenaline? New York, 1973, I believe it was?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought. We need to have a serious talk about your habits, Jimmy.”

With a chuckle from the guitarist, the two lapse into a comfortable silence, as Jimmy presses a kiss to the top of Layla’s head, nuzzling it with his cheek.

“Hey,” Layla shifts to look up at him, eyes filled with adoration. She felt as though she were looking at a star. Beautiful and shining, but out of reach, as much as she wished for the opposite. She knew this couldn’t last, though she’d savour every last minute of it that she could. “I need to… tell you something.”

“What’s wrong, Layla?”

“Nothing’s wrong, really. It’s… kind of the opposite, actually.”

Jimmy tilts his head in confusion, turning on his side to face her. He looked like a puppy, hair wild about his head, and Layla couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“S-So,” Layla shifts, nervous all of a sudden. Jimmy grips her hand in his, and nods when their eyes finally meet. “Do you remember what you asked me earlier? About the… meaning of life. You might not remember, you were a little out of it, and—”

“I remember. You’re rambling, petal. What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s… it’s love. The meaning of life is… love. Jimmy, I…um…”

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I’m… I guess... What I’m trying to say is,” Layla says, taking a deep breath as she looks into the eyes that captivate her, and make her smile, and set her on fire. “I’m falling in love with you, and I just… Yeah.”

Jimmy grins brightly, surging forward to capture her lips in a kiss bursting with joy. He laughs into it, as their noses brush together, his finger tracing nonsensical designs across her side.

“Very eloquently put, Porter.”

“Oh my God, I just confessed that I’m falling for you, and you focus on—”

“I’m falling in love with you too. I thought that may have been obvious, considering the state of this poor table.”

“W-Well,” Layla stutters, blushing crimson as Jimmy’s plush lips tilt up in a picture-perfect smirk. “Put your clothes on, Page. The boys are probably waiting for us.”

Jimmy laughs, but redresses in his stage clothes, turning to stare at Layla as she slips her jeans back on. Buttoning up her shirt and flattening her hair, which frizzed up like a halo around her flushed face, she gazes over at Jimmy. Crowding into his space, she put a hand to the back of his neck, up on her tiptoes to peck at his lips once more. He slips a hand to her cheek, and deepens the kiss. Pulling away to glimpse the golden smile that rests on Layla’s lips, he feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Arm in arm, they walk out of the room, twin smiles nearly splitting their faces. Jimmy glances over at Layla, and can’t believe just how lucky he is.

Screw falling in love, he thinks.

This is love, and he knows it for sure, now.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

38 notes · View notes

what-the--curtains · 4 years

Text

In a Week

Part 2/4 - The Importance of Being Idle

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Things get easier between you and Frankie as the storm outside rages on.

Authors notes: Hello! Sorry this took so long (I forgot I had a lab report due this week so I was busy panic writing 6000 words the patient few days!) anyways this is soft makes my heart happy 🥺 thank u for all the support in the story💕💕

Tw: Swearing, dead sibling mentioned (I think that’s all)

Work count: 4.9k

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 2

You don’t know when,or how it happened, but sometime during the night you had found your way over to the heat being emitted from human furnace Frankie Morales. Your limbs were wrapped lazily around him, with your leg over his and your arm resting idly on his chest. You blink into the light emitting a dissatisfied grumble realizing you had woken up. You hear a sigh from above and with one eye still closed, you tilt your head up to see Frankie currently hyper focused on winning whatever game he was playing on his phone.

"You could have woken me up you know.” You say, detaching from him and rolling over onto your back rubbing your eyes. “How long have you been awake?" you ask, yawning.

"Few hours, you’re quite the sleeper, slept through all 4 alarms that went off." He responds, still fixated on his phone.

"Shit, sorry about that. My mother used to say I could sleep for England" you state, earning a soft chuckle from the man beside you. Even after years of working on hospital hours, waking up was always a struggle for you, no matter the time of day. After a few moments of contemplating whether you really had to move, you rip off the covers and scoot out of bed. Tearing open the curtains you let out a dissatisfied groan when you see a snowscape where the parking lot once was. You turn around arms crossed, eyes glazed over inadvertently boring into him. You hear him say something but it doesn't register.

“What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the trance and moving towards your over packed bag to retrieve clean clothes.

“Nothing.” he says, eyes back on his phone. You raise your eyebrows and head into the bathroom to get changed, emerging in sweats and a vintage band shirt that you’d tied at the waist.

"The clash? Nice." Frankie says, as he passes by you into the bathroom, closing the door.

"Ya London Calling" you respond sitting down on the bed and pulling on some socks, not fully listening to what he had said. "I’m going to ask the front desk if we can renew the room, doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. I can see if there's another one available if you don’t wanna share" You say, when you hear the doors lock click open, knowing he may still be mad at you for not pulling over sooner.

"I mean I don't mind sharing, unless you’d be more comfortable..." he starts, mouth hanging open downturned slightly, as he rinses his hands.

“I’m fine sharing, nice to have some company plus it's cheaper this way.” you say, grabbing the room key off the nightstand.

"Let me know how much it is, I'll pay half" he says, stretching out his back, cursing the mattress for being too soft.

"I feel like you should be paying more since you get the good half of the bed.” you offer, pointing your finger at him.

“I think they call that extortion,” he says, grinning “Oh, see if they have any food while you're down there I’m starving” he calls as you exit into the hallway and make your way downstairs.

“Hey, I was looking to re-book the room from last night” you say to the receptionist who you recognized from last night. Suppose she got stuck here as well, you wonder if she’d gotten any sleep.

“For how many more nights?” she asks.

“How long do you think this storm is going to last?” You ask.

“At least a few more days, but then the roads will have to be cleared, so maybe a week? We can book you in for two more nights then go from there though, no one else will be coming in”

“That’d be great,” you say, taking out your credit card. “What about food, is there any way we can get some stuff to make sandwiches or something?” you ask

“Well the culinary staff was trapped here by the storm, another reason why so many rooms were booked, so they’ll be able to have food sent up.” You nod, the hotel was upscale and you hated to think how expensive the food was going to be, but what choice did you have?

“It's past breakfast, but we may have some spare sandwiches leftover, let me just go check.” she offers, returning a few minutes later with a couple of boxes.

“Thank you so much!” you say taking the boxed up food from her.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh yes” you say, “booze, can I buy that here?”

“That, we have plenty of!” she smiles.

~~~~~

You re-enter the room with the boxed up breakfasts, a case of beer and two bottles of wine

“Here food” you say, sliding the boxes off the beer and onto the counter next to the fridge.“We missed breakfast, so it’s probably cold, and I booked the room for another two nights, but we can go from there” you say, reiterating the receptionist's words as you place the drinks in the fridge.

“Planning on sharing that or?” he laughs watching you strategically maneuver the booze into the fridge

“Hey, I get a week off work, I'm going to be drinking. Do I wish it was on a beach in sunny south Carolina? Yes, but this will have to do, and I hate drinking alone so congratulations you’ve just been conscripted” You say, as he empties out one of the breakfasts onto a plate placing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

“Here. Do you want this? You say peeling the sliced ham off your sandwich” waving it infront of his face.

“Not a fan of ham?” he asks, taking it and adding it into his own.

“Not a fan of meat in general, I’m a vegetarian”

“Course you are.” he laughs.

“Bold words coming from a guy wearing a baseball hat inside, in the middle of winter” you say, throwing a balled up napkin at his head.

“So what exactly do you do? Santi never said.” he asks, leaving you to question what Santiago had said about you.

“I’m a doctor, well almost a doctor one more year of residency, hopefully” you say, crossing your fingers.

“Shit, aren’t you kinda young to be a doctor?” he asks, looking you up and down with raised eyebrows.

��Older than I look, but thank you. How about you?”

“I was a pilot, me and Pope served together for a while, but I’m mainly just teaching now. How’d you two meet by the way? I’ve never seen you round base before, I’m sure I’d remember you hanging around” he says.

“He basically lived at my house growing up, well until he went into the military when I was in middle school. ”

“I thought you said you weren’t young” he laughs “So you didn't serve?”

“No, my brother did though, he was a few years older than Santi but they were inseparable.” you state, preparing yourself for the imminent conversation.

“Who?” Frankie asks, slightly offended that Pope had a secret best friend he never introduced to him.

“His name was Parker '' you say, hoping the past tense clues Frankie in.

“Ya I’ve met Parker! Good guy what branch is he in these days?” he says, not picking up on your word selection or how your mouth hangs slightly ajar or how your eyes have gone vacant.

“Was in” is all you say, you avert your gaze staring down at the floor “he passed five years ago in active duty”

“Shit, I’m sorry I…” he stumbles over his words trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Not your fault how were you supposed to know, besides I'm sure you’ve lost your fair share of people.” you say offering him a not very convincing, but reassuring smile. You let the awkwardness hang in the air, not wanting to speak first.

“What... kind of doctor are you?” he says, hoping to cut the tension he’d caused.

“Medical, diagnostics.” you say, exhaling as the easiness you felt around Franki came back.

“So like House?” He asks.

“Ya cane and all.” you laugh, his lopsided grin having returned to his face, as he leans in to grab your plate.

“Hey, I uh.. I need to make a phone call.” He says, washing the dishes in the sink.

“I'll make myself scarce, give you some privacy. Is it fine if I'm in the shower or did you want me to fully vacate the premise? I can go down to the gym for a bit.” you offer.

“Showers perfect.” He says, mentally questioning his word choice there. He waits to hear the water run before pulling out his phone and dialing his mother who was currently watching his daughter for what was only supposed to be a few days.

You let the water wash over you turning on some music to drown out the conversation Frankie was having, not wanting to pry on his personal life. You did find yourself wondering who he was calling just simple curiosity, nothing else. You had decided you liked Frankie despite the rocky start, the more time you spent with him the more you felt like you'd known him for years. You could see why he and Santiago got along so well they were two sides of the same coin, his calm nicely balancing out Santiago's rashness. Or should you call him Pope? What kind of nickname was that, and Santiago was anything but a saint. You made a mental note to ask Frankie for the origin stories later he may be more forthcoming about it than Santiago. Lathering your hair you close your eyes, allowing Frankie’s image to come to the forefront of your mind. He had an old beauty, a kind of beauty that was suited to a ruler of a long forgotten empire. You begin to feel the water run cold, had you really been in the shower that long? You turn off the tap and dry yourself off redonning your sweats and tying the Clash shirt into a crop. As you exit the bedroom you’re met at the door by Frankie who hands you a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” you say smiling up at him.

“Take it as an apology for being an ass yesterday, I was tired and shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum about it, you don’t control the weather”

“Well I guess I should apologize as well for not listening to you, especially considering you’re the one with training in navigating radars.”

The rest of the day is spent in relative silence breaking into conversation every once in a while about nothing in particular. You sit on the couch reading while he sits in the chair across from you book in hand as the news plays faintly in the background. The storm had been dubbed “snowmageddon” by the anchors, not particularly innovative but it got the point across, 20cm had fallen and another 30 was being predicted you groaned internally thinking about how long it was gonna take you to clear off your car. At least you'd have military help. Dinner comes and goes and he doesn't ask you many questions, unsurprising considering how the last conversion had turned out. Instead you tell him about the weirdest cases you’d ever seen come through the hospital and he tells you about the incidents that got him and Santi sent to the hospital.

“Alright I'm going to turn in” he says, as you look up from the rabbit hole you'd currently found yourself stuck in.

“Shit ya good call” you say closing your phone and rubbing your eyes. Once again he beats you to the bed, giving him a prime position to watch in amusement as you dig through your bag.

“Lost something? Seriously, how deep is that bag? What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Normal pyjamas” you mutter, all concentration currently being used to find something appropriate to sleep in.

“What pray tell are normal pyjamas?” he asks, a confused look plastered across his face.

“Let's just say a certain king of sleepwear was packed for someone who was suppose to be at the wedding”

“Who?” he asks.

“Ah ha!” you cry victoriously, pulling out your day-to-day sleepwear. You exit the bathroom in the silk sleep set you’d gotten a few years back. Frankie’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you emerge, the pyjamas leaving little to the imagination. If those were your normal pyjamas he didn't want to think about what the other ones were. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming off as a creep. Which he was already feeling like by ogling you as you bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. His eyes dart down to look at his hands as you walk around the bed to bed, only looking up once the covers are pulled up over you. He turns off the lamp and settles into the mattress, placing his hands on his chest and closing his eyes.

“Please for the love of god, stop moving” he mumbles after 15 minutes of patiently waiting for you to stop wriggling. Your eyes open as you shift again, completely aware of how annoying you must be to him.

“I know I'm sorry, I‘m just..” you move one more time, balling your fists up and slamming them into the mattress in frustration.

“Not comfy” he finishes for you, eyes opening staring up at the ceiling.

“Ya especially since someone took my side of the bed” you bemoan.

“Look, you’ve already slept wrapped around me once, so you can... do it again. If it’s the easiest way for you to sleep.” he says hoping the offer comes off as sincere, and not weird. You chew your lower lip for a second before accepting the fact that it was the only way you’d be able to sleep. He lifts his arms above his head allowing you to position yourself comfortably on top of him, before lowering them down. One hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying...” you start, eyes batting sleepily up at him.

“I know you don’t know me well, but i'm not like that. It's not good or fun unless everyones fully and consensually on board.” With that you ease into him, trusting his words. Breathing deeply you drift off to sleep to the smell of clean laundry that you’d come to associate with Frankie.

Day 3

“Hey I'm going to the gym if you need to make a call or whatever” you say, pulling on your sneakers, feeling refreshed from the good sleeps you’d had the past two nights.

“Thanks,” he says, watching you leave before calling to check in on his daughter.

“Hey mom how is she? Good good ya, put her on would ya? Hey darling how are you! Yes I'm going to be home soon. Were just stuck in a big snow storm, did you see it? I wish you were here then we could build a snowman together! Yes just like Elsa and Anna. Yes we can watch them when I get home and absolutely I will try and save you a snowball. Alright, okay, I love you.” He says, a few minutes was more than he’d expected from the kid, toddlers aren’t known for their keen telecommunication skills after all.

“Hey mom, thanks again for watching her. This storm came outta nowhere. We're going to miss the wedding, I know they’re gonna be pissed. That’s not a swear Mom! No, I'm not alone. One of Santis friends she's a doctor. Yes, I mean I don’t know! Why does it matter? Look, I'm hanging up now. I am. No I won't be doing that I love you, I'll call later.” he hangs up shaking his head. Despite what everyone around him thought, the last thing on his mind was dating, his kid was his number one, scratch that, his only priority especially since her mother disappeared in the night. Leaving nothing but a note about having other reasons to live. Whatever the hell that meant. He hears the key unlock the door and watches as you re-enter, not stopping to make conversation, bee-lining straight for the shower. Knowing he’d have a good half hour to kill he dials his phone again.

“Hey Pope” he says, taking the opportunity to call his friend and deliver the bad news.

“Hey ‘Fish where the hell are you guys?” he shouts from the other end, evidently in a crowded room.

“Trapped by the storm, we're not gonna make it.”

“Shit Gen’s gonna lose it, and Stella if it wasn’t for her four sisters Y/N would be in the wedding party they were roommates for years.” He stresses.

“Damn, ya man i'm really sorry, she's in the shower, but I can pass the phone to her when she's out?” Frankie offers.

“No man, don't bother her. I'll text her in a bit. Hey you guys sharing a room?” he questions, the agenda behind it obvious.

“Wasn’t much of a choice, rooms were all booked up.”

“You're sleeping on the floor I hope” A protective tone taking over.

“You know my back’s bad Pope.” he explains calmly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Catfish you better keep those hands to yourself, she's not one of your nightly conquests”

“Man I haven’t been like that since my kid came along” He chuckles, knowing full well that those days were long behind him.

“I'm a serious ‘Fish, she's too good for you, and she's in no place to be fucked over by another guy alright?”

“Look I know she'd never go for me Pope and I'm flattered you think she would. Glad i'm still handsome in your eyes.I’ll call you later” he laughs, ending the conversation on a lighter note.

“Hey” you say, pulling your Boston University sweater over your head, drying out your hair with a towel.

“Pope says hi” Frankie says, hanging up the phone

“What's the nickname mean?” you question, ready to get to the bottom of it.

“That's top secret information” he taunts, shaking the phone at you.

“Oh I'm sure I could figure out a way to get it out of you.” you smirk, raising your eyebrows

“Hey! I have military training!” he exclaims, offended at the insinuation.

“Militarys got nothing on me.” you retort, slapping him on the shoulder as you pass by.

“Well, if the plan is to ply me with alcohol, it may just work” he confesses.

“Perfect” you say, heading to the fridge opening up the wine bottle “let the games begin” you say tossing him a beer bottle watching as he uses a lighter to open it before bringing it to his lips.

“So tell me what does Pope mean?” you ask after a few hours of meaningless conversations and playing a drinking game that went along with the forensic files repeats you were watching. “Is it a dick thing” you whisper yell, causing Frankie to burst out laughing.

“Why? You wanna know what it looks like?” He asks forehead creased the trace of laughter still etched on his face.

“Ew No! but I am asking if it looks like a Pope?” you say trying to hide your amusement with a stern look.

“Which Pope?” Frankie asks in an equally serious tone, curious as to where you were going with this.

“Francis?” you ask.

“Nope” He answers after pausing for a moment.

“Fred?” You ask, now entrapped in a bizarre game of guess who, but in reference to what holy figure most resembled your friends penis.

“Was there a Pope named Fred?” He asks unsuccessfully, stifling a laugh.

“Probably? There were like three Popes at once at one point in time.”

“No his dick doesn't look like the Pope, now can we please stop talking about my best friend's penis!” he exclaims.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” you say chewing your lip trying to think of other possible explanations when a phone ringing interrupts you thought.

“Shit, Sorry I have to take this,'' he says, pulling out his phone and walking to the next room, forgetting to close the door, leaving you to inadvertently eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Good night sweety I love you to the moon and back I'll be home soon.”

Your eyes go wide as you feel your stomach sink, of course he was married, he was too nice, too easy, something had to have been off. A ick comes over you at the thought of being unknowingly draped over a married man, and you suddenly begin questioning Frankies motives.

“Sorry about that. It's my daughter she uh, I didn’t say goodnight to her last night and she missed it” he says with a slight chuckle, pride evident on his face.

“How old is she?” you ask smiling at how he lit up at being asked about his kid.

“Three” he says, grabbing another beer and grunting slightly as he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Good age” You offer, shaking off the feeling of betrayal and disappointment that had come over you for a brief moment.

“Ya she's perfect” he beams.

“I bet, I mean I don’t know what your wife looks like, but if she's got your eyes watch out world.” You offer turning to face him only to see that his smile had faded, replaced instead by a somber hurt.

“Her mothers not in the picture” He says, clearing his throat and taking a long drink.

“Shit Frankie I'm sorry” you say quickly, feeling like a prize idiot for making assumptions about his character.

“Hey I brought up your dead brother, only seems fair you bring up my ex who abandoned us.” He says with a shrug. “Don’t, don’t look at me like that” He says, shaking his head and knitting his brows together tired of being looked at like he was broken. It was horrible when it happened. It was fucking shitty that she had left her daughter without a care, but now? Hell, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Watching his daughter grow up was worth it.

“Fuck” you say, scrunching up your face “I hate when people do that to me.”

“You need another drink?” he offers, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness into the room, one he was accustomed to after telling his dates about his kid, not that this was a date.

“Ya I need it to wash the taste of foot out of my mouth” you laugh, feeling worse than when your brother was inadvertently brought up.

“Seriously don't worry about it. Speaking of a palette cleanser you wanna watch a movie or something?” he says pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, before grabbing another drink out the fridge for himself.

“Ya but it's gotta be horror, the only thing i'm in the mood for.”

“Didn’t think bringing up my ex was that scary.” he laughs, handing you the glass.

“No, but talking about Santiago's penis was.” You deadpan, causing Frankie to snort out his drink. “What? Do all the girls say that about it? A real nightmare?” you continue, giggling as he coughs through a laugh. “Was it the inspiration for the creature from the black lagoon?” for some reason the stupid bit your doing causes Frankie to double over subsequently encouraging your own laughing fit. After the ache in your side subsides Frankie sits down on the couch next to you. Using his sleeve to wipe any spillage from his beard.

“Any preference?” you ask, leaning your head back against the couch. He shakes his head. “Alright, the Conjuring it is! I gotta pee first though, need anything before we start?” you ask, walking towards the washroom.

“Just you.” he calls out, as the door closes behind you. Fuck, why the hell did he say that. He shakes his head at how desperate it sounded. Jesus christ, he was embarrassing.

You were just tipsy enough that the bathroom's bright lights made you feel wobbly. You cross your arms as you pee, thinking about the words you’d just heard, about how he needed you. Well maybe that was a reach, but it was okay to pretend just for a night? In all honesty, even though this wasn't a date, it was definitely the best time you'd had with a guy… ever, something about him was just so easy. You flush the toilet and open the door washing your hands, hotels were so weird, why wasn't the sink in with the toilet? You felt like you needed to wipe the handle down after every use.

You flop back onto the couch next to him, closer than you’d been when you left, but leaving enough space between you. After a few jump scares that catch even the pilot off guard the two of you found yourself snuggled into each other. You knew the movie was getting to him, because the arm wrapped around your shoulder pulled you closer into his side whenever the ominous music began to play. He wouldn't say the movie was getting to him per say, it was just in his nature to protect others. Even if it was just a stpid movie he wanted to make sure you felt safe. After the movie ends you quickly separate from each other and clear up the glasses, leaving them to ‘soak’ overnight. Frankie gets to the bathroom first, again. Thirsty, you wander back out to the kitchen grabbing a glass and filling it with water jumping when you think you see a shadow move out the corner of your eye. It was strange, how you loved horror so much while watching it but the second it turned off, any sounds, or hat rack or shadow scared the living daylights out of you. At least this time there would be another person with you. After getting ready for bed you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, watching you lift up the bedskirt peering under the bed. “Are you seriously checking under the bed right now?” He laughs, unable to get over how you, a medical professional was afraid of ghosts.

“Better safe than sorry!” you exclaim eyes wide as your head pops up.

“You can't believe in this shit can you?”

“Hey man you get sleep paralysis then tell me that shit isn’t plausible” you respond pointing a finger at him, before pushing yourself off your knees and up onto the bed.

You crawl under the covers and sit up parting your hair to braid it before going to bed.

“Can I ask you a weird favour” he asks, you panic slightly, fuck he was too good to be true, no way a guy was that sweet without an alterior motive.

“Yes, but proceed with extreme caution” you say.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair? I want to be able to do my daughter's hair but I’m pretty terrible at it. Her teacher once asked if she'd gotten caught in a bush on the way in.” Your heart jumps slightly, at the sincere revelation. How, how could one guy be this sweet, and thoughtful and not creepy?

“Of course I can show you.” you say and you proceed to give him a step by step tutorial, followed by a demonstration prior to actually letting him have at your hair so he can try and replicate the motions. Once he got the motion down you’d mistakenly tried to show him how to french-braid it down from the top.

“Be honest doc, how bad is it.” He says.

“Well, maybe we shouldn't have tried a french braid quite yet.” you say laughing feeling the matted mess currently on your head. You turn upon hearing him groan, watching as he leans back into the pillow bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“For someone who's a pilot i'm shocked you can't do this.” you say, hand reaching up to salvage your hair.

“Are you judging me?” he says, sitting back up when he sees you struggling to untangle the mess he’d made.

“Maybe a little.” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand grazed against yours. You drop it to the side upon contact allowing his fingers to work gently at removing the knots.

“Are pilots supposed to be good at braiding?” he asks.

“I just assumed if you could weave in and out of the sky you'd be good with your hands.” you laugh as he frees the last of your hair from the prison he'd made. He watches as you effortlessly put your hair back up into tidy braids.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

“Well practice makes perfect, but look on the brightside, now you have a sure fire pick up line that'll work on all the MILFs youll be dating!” you exclaim turning back to smile at him.

“Malo '' he mutters, pushing your shoulder slightly as you giggle, dramatically falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over you. It doesn't take a moment before you're back around him, breathing silently, and fast asleep. He wasn’t far behind you, he never used to sleep well in hotels, or at all really, not after the mission, but something about this place made it easy. He's sure it's nothing to do with the idle hand on his chest or the rhythmic beating of the heart belonging to the person draped over him.

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie x y/n #catfish x you #catfish x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #in a week #part 2

77 notes · View notes

harmoni-me · 4 years

Note

hello it’s me again! thank you for fulfilling my request i just loved it. can you please do a continuation? like- reader starts receiving these anonymous love letters and gifts, this drove the boys (and the reader) to confess their feelings in the end. angst to fluff

Wow, thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! This one is even longer than the last, so please have fun reading this one!

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma Pt. 2

Crunch

Huh? What in the world-

Last time you remembered reaching into your school duffle bag, all you had in it was a comfy change of clothes for when gym activities rolled around, and a wet bottle of water that was dripping with condensation, but…

You didn’t remember an envelope, not in the slightest.

A nervousness started to boil over from your head to your heart, face heating up as quickly as hot coals on a cold evening. Is this… what you thought it was?

You’re stomach dropped at the realization, plunging into the depths of your being, as a realization struck.

This…this was probably not who you thought it was from.

In retrospect, the sting would only sink in deeper if only a single letter was given.

You weren’t satisfied, and that made you feel like you were scum, too dirty to even bother to be dealt with.

Even feeling a great amount of resentment to the silly thing, it’s not like you weren’t going to open it. You weren’t heartless when it came to the topic of possible confession. I guess you could say that the author of the letter made you feel something you haven’t felt in a while.

It’s was pure, unbridled, bitter jealousy. Jealousy that engulfed your vision, clouding all sense of realism.

Why could someone so anonymous have more guts about dealing with their crush than you? This person, who you didn’t even know, had the heart of a lion to sit down, write out something deep and personal, and somehow get it to you.

You were jealous, because you would never have the heart to do the same.

Once the bell rang to signal the last period of the day, you begrudgingly stood from your desk, knowing what you had to do. You had to open it, it would be extremely inconsiderate if you didn’t.

While you were walking in the hallway to somewhere slightly more secluded, you slipped the letter out of your bag. It was pure white, and it wasn’t made out of anything fancy. The opening was sealed by a simple piece of clear scotch tape, and when turning the message over, on the back was large, red letters that spelled your name in delicate cursive. You really wanted to get this over with.

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD-“ You jumped out of your skin, dropping the envelope in your hand, causing it to flutter to the floor.

“Nehehe! I got you so good!” A purple-haired brat giggled at your jump of fright, rounding the corner he was hiding behind. His eyes then wandered to the envelope that was laid flat on the tiled floor, his eyebrows rose, and a smirk slowly carved his way onto his face.

“Oooo, what’s this little thing, hm? An invitation? A secret message?….” Kokichi knelt down to pick up the letter, fitting the paper between his middle finger and index finger. He got up all in your face, an evil smile plastered on his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. He got closer to your ear, voice dropping, and his breath hot against your ear.

“Maybe…a love confession? Aww, how sweet…” Kokichi hummed, pleased by the steamy expression your face turned when you were embarrassed. Then, as suddenly as the actions before, Kokichi hopped backwards, grasping onto the letter with both hands, raising it aggressively high in the air.

“Ahhh! The anticipation! What’s inside, what’s inside, what’s inside?!” Kokichi kept on blabbering, waving the envelope all over the place, as if he was a child on Christmas Eve, shaking a wrapped gift to see if they could guess its contents.

When you saw the best opportunity, you quickly snatched the letter back from the naughty boy’s grubby little hands, huffing with a blush on your face once you retrieved what had been addressed to you.

You leaned your back against the hallway wall, which had now been abandoned. Slowly, you sunk yourself down to the ground, not once taking your eyes off of the red lettering that spelled your name in flawless cursive. You noticed upon close inspection that the lettering was a little smudged at the ends, most likely from Kokichi’s roughhousing with it.

A rough thump rang out next to you, making you look over with not much interest. Kokichi, in all of his nosy glory, had sat right up next to you against to wall, head shoved all in your business.

“Come on! Open it already! The suspense is killing me!” Kokichi was vibrating from waiting so patiently....to what extent Kokichi could be patient, that is.

You sighed, giving up. It was most likely anonymous anyway, so Kokichi won’t even know who to target ruthlessly on for the next month.

You let the tip of your finger slide into the opening of the letter, breaking the tape to the prized information. You carefully slipped out the neatly folded piece of paper, which was a thicker, almost card stock like texture.

Even before opening it, you could feel the emotion that radiated out of the paper. You suddenly had an image turn in your mind, of a person looking to be your age, carefully writing every word down as perfectly a flawed human could. Though, you could imagine them also grasping at their hair, crumbling up previous attempts, over and over again, as if disposing of their emotions, yet rebirthing it to be conveyed better each and every time.

It made you feel that much worse, knowing that the writer’s feelings are in no way reciprocated. You couldn’t, because the feelings to give back were already stolen in their entirety. By two other people, none the less.

Ironic how one of your two fattest crushes you’ve ever had in your life was basically huddling into you right at this moment, wanting so desperately to know what the paper read.

When finally did unfold the letter, you were met with beautiful, curvy handwriting, not a spelling error or smudge could be found.

. . .

To the one who my heart yearns for the most,

I’ve lost track on how many times I have written this letter. For reference, the bin next to me is now filled to the brim and was completely empty just two hours ago, but that’s not important, is it?

Let’s get the obvious things out of the way, shall we? I adore you. Though I’m keeping this anonymous, I want you to know that my heart has grown ten times it’s size ever since the day I met you. Every single attribute about you I hold as a precious keepsake within my mind. Every time you do anything, say anything, I want to keep it all to myself. I want to lock the sound of your voice, and keep vivid pictures of your smile fresh within my memories.

You, (Y/N), have made me feel things that I thought I had become numb to. I was unapproachable. A man that was blinded by his own psychotic desire to be used, that’s what I was.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but I believe you’re my guardian angle, sent to be due to God’s pity. Now that I’ve written it down, that was stupid, but I’ll keep it, because it’s the truth.

You saved me from myself, causing me to unsurprisingly fall in love with the one who made me realize I was a human, standing among other flawed humans, all having different lives, hopes, talents, aspirations...

Your kindness, no, your everything gave me so much room to simply breathe, and realized what I was doing to myself and to others.

Now that that’s out of the way, I would like to mention something I’ve...conjured.

I’m not very great at using my words, so that’s why I’ve poured everything into this letter, but you deserve to know who I am.

I’m scared, and if you do see me, I might not be able to get a good amount of words out but

In two days from now, after school, I want to meet you. I was thinking on the school rooftop? If you decide to come, I’ll be there waiting.

. . .

Wow

Who...who was this guy? And why...

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glossy from such words. This could be anyone, yet, what did you do? You were friends with many people, but not like this...you don’t think?

You suddenly felt something warm wiping away your now falling tears, gliding over your cheeks to brush away your liquid sadness.

“Hey, don’t cry...it’s not a good fit for you.” Kokichi then used his bandana to gently dry your puffy eyes and crimson cheeks. You looked up at the boy, who had the tiniest smile present on his face. It was almost as if that was how far the smile could go.

The sun broke through a window across the hallway, landing on Kokichi and his facial features. You looked into his eyes, but something was off.

Those eyes, they reflected a lot more light than they usually did, as if they were simply water in a pond. Was he-

“Well, that sure was something, huh?” Kokichi turned around, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, trying to be discreet. You noticed though, but decided to not say anything.

. . .

When you thought things couldn’t get worse, you had totally jinxed yourself the next day.

You wanted to get your water bottle out of the your school duffel bag during class, because humans have to drink every once in awhile, but when you did...

Crunch

What...what even was that?

You honestly didn’t even want to bother until the end of the day with how you were feeling right now.

You were slumped, once again, in an empty hallway, browsing your phone and looking at funny cat videos to raise your vibrations. At least they made you smile.

“Is there a kitten nearby?” A voice had pierced the atmosphere. You looked up, it was Nagito standing over you, a face of half wonder and half concern delicately painted on his features.

You looked downcast, and you hated hiding your emotions, so it was plainly evident to Nagito how you felt in that moment, and he was heartbroken.

He placed his belongings next to you, along with himself, comfortably hugging his knees into his chest. He turned to you frowning a bit.

“You...only watch cute animal videos when you’re sad. Is... there anything wrong?” Nagito questioned, wanting to help you as much as you’ve helped him.

“It’s kinda personal, but your company already makes me feel better, so it’ll all be fine.” You gave the white haired boy a little smile, showing just how genuine you were.

Nagito hummed, nodding in understanding. He was playing it cool in front of you, but he really wanted to punch the person that made you feel like this.

It’s funny, because he probably has an idea of who...

“Oh, yeah, the thing...” You mumbled, reaching over to dig around in your duffle bag. When you felt the crunchy texture, you pulled it out, revealing something something that you honestly weren’t expecting.

It was a large pink lollipop, and it was in the shape of a heart.

It was probably as big as your head, and there was a clear, wrapper-like foil around the treat, preserving it for the consumer.

“Where did you get that?” Nagito raised a brow, because it was quite ridiculous how absurdly large this lollipop was. It was a funny sight though, seeing you side to side with with a sweet that could easily cover your whole face.

“I... think someone game this to me?” You thought, smiling a bit at the silliness of the situation.

But your mind wandered... was it the same person who wrote the letter? Then again, you didn’t think it would make sense with someone like him getting, well, this. Especially after writing something so deep and personal. This just kinda seemed incredibly random.

Either way, you started to unwrap the lollipop, wanting to eat some of it, even though you were most likely not going to finish the thing.

Resuming the cat videos, you repositioned the phone between you and Nagito. The boy took a glance, watching as he saw a fluffy white kitten get scared from playing a note on a piano, making him chuckle.

“You wanna watch somethin’ else, Nagi?” You asked Nagito, making him perk up in attentive nature. His smile conveyed so much care for you, as if you were his most prized gift he had ever received in his life.

“I’m bound to enjoy anything you would like, (Y/N)! Please, pick whatever you would like!” Nagito waved his hands, signaling not to worry about him, after all, you were the sad one out of you two for the moment.

“Ok! We’re watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people!” You promptly spoke, grabbing the phone and setting up the Hell’s Kitchen episode.

“Don’t mind me asking, but who is that?” Nagito questioned genuinely, making you gasp in surprise. How?

“He’s one of the best chef’s in the world, but he’s super strict with his employees, so it’s kinda entertaining. You’ll see!” You exclaimed, scooting yourself closer to Nagito, propping up the phone. You leaned into his side, taking a little nibble from your lollipop.

Nagito’s eyes kept on darting from you to the screen, having trouble with containing his emotion with you simply leaning on him to watch a show about...a vulgar-mouthed chef.

“Hm? What’s the matter?” You looked up at him, face inches apart from his. He didn’t respond, too nervous to trust his mouth. Lucky for him, you cut in.

“Oh! You want some?” You stuck the untouched side of the lollipop to Nagito’s mouth.

His brain and heart were on fire, and not a lick of logic was left. He pressed his lips against the candy, and sucked on a small portion.

It was your favorite flavor...he liked it way better than artificial grape soda, by a long shot.

After licking to his satisfaction, Nagito locked his teeth into the part he had been abusing with his mouth, biting off a piece for to-go.

“I need to go to the restroom, ok? I’ll be back.” He said, getting up from his seated position, making his way and entering into the boys bathroom at the end if the hallway.

You don’t know if he knows, but boy, you were blushing up a storm. He literally just gave you an up close and personal presentation on how his tongue did it’s work. Now, you didn’t really care for dirty thoughts, but after witnessing that, you couldn’t help it...

You looked down at the lollipop, now with a small chunk of it gone missing from the main snack. You examined it, and realized something so blatantly obvious, it was embarrassing.

Rapped around the white stick of the lollipop was a piece of yellow paper, and without much thought, you unraveled it.

It was a note, but it was short, and written it blue colored pencil.

. . .

Found this at a candy store, and bought it because you looked sad the last time I saw you. Seeing you sad makes me sad and stuff so yeah. I’m not signing my name here or anything, cuz that would just give away the surprise! But I’ll confess to you properly in person, cuz I’m better at talking. Meet me tomorrow after school, on the roof!

. . .

Huh?

Was this...the same guy? No, no it’s really couldn’t have been. The handwriting was different, the spelling was off, and they seemed a lot more laid back. Also, the author of the letter clearly stated that he was better at conveying is precious feelings by writing, while this one said they were more than happy to spill their own feeling with their voice.

So, you’ve got two secret admirers now...and both of them want to meet at the same place, and the same time.

Maybe this was all just some twisted, elaborate trick by a group of thugs, wanting to lure you in, then gang up on you like street cats when they found a lowly mouse to pray upon.

You’ll never know, unless you sucked it up and went tomorrow.

. . .

Well, there you were, on the roof after school the next day.

No one was there.

The sky was as clear as your blank mind, which you had forced to stop thinking about the world around you, and what you were doing. The breezed tickled your face, as if the wind tried to replicate the feeling of tips of grass grazing on ones cheek.

The only noise was the muffled chattering from students below, creating the perfect background noise to just...relax.

Until you heard yelling.

It was coming from the stairwell that lead up to the roof. You didn’t move a muscle, it was probably just loud, rambunctious students.

But it just kept on going, and going, on and on like a hyper parakeet who had a shot of expresso.

Well, since your admirers haven’t shown their faces for the past fifteen minutes, there’s nothing better right now than to snoop on the possible drama rumbling around in the stairwell. Might make a good story to tell someday, you never know.

You made your way into the stairwell, only to be met with very familiar voices, but you quickly made your presence unknown to them, hiding behind a wall.

“Kokichi! I told you not to not to get yourself involved!” Nagito raised his voice a little, but not to the point where it was just pure anger talking. Kokichi stood, fists balled up in pent up frustration.

“I know you did! And it was stupid that I did, but-“ Kokichi yelled, desperation in his voice.

“Then WHY? You knew I wrote that letter, hell, you were there helping me write the damn thing, but you go and do this?!” Nagito’s heart was the one talking at this point, because you’ve never heard his voice twinge in such genuine emotional pain.

But now you knew who wrote the letter, it was Nagito.

That didn’t sink in as hard as it was supposed to, until-

Wait, Nagito?

“Y-you don’t understand!” Kokichi responded, clenching his teeth from emotional agony.

“I do understand, and I just want to tell you that you’ve went way too far on this sick joke-“

“IT’S NOT A JOKE!” Kokichi cried out, a rasp in his voice becoming evident.

“Then what is it, Kokichi? Spill it. You know how important this is to me, and I don’t like yelling at you.” Nagito was stern, his voice dominating the purple-haired boy.

“Because...I-I...” his voice broke in sadness and so, so much regret. He suddenly huffed, opening his mouth to wallow out.

“B-BECAUSE I LOVE THEM TOO!” Kokichi sobbed. Thick, wet tears rolling down his swollen cheeks. Nagito was shocked, not saying a word. Nagito’s frown deepend because of the wallowing boy in front of him that he cared so much for. Yet, like always, he could never find the words to wrap Kokichi in warmth and apology. The thought made Nagito’s eyes begin to water.

Look what you did, you hurt him, you absolute scum.

“B-but *hic* I-I-I’m s-so *hic* s-selfish...I...” Kokichi hiccuped, trying his absolute best to get his words across.

“I’M SO FUCKING SELFISH, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU TOO, NAGITO KOMAEDA....y-you b-b-big jerk...” Kokichi wailed, a river of tears poring, falling to the concrete floor; the droplets staining the ground in a darker shade of grey when they landed.

“O-oh my god...K-Kokichi...l-“ Nagito started, hands shaking violently. This was bad, this was really bad.

And you knew that.

So you ran. You ran so fast out of your hiding spot, down to the two people in this world that you cared about the most.

And before you knew it, you harshly brought the both of them into your arms, causing the three of you to to collapse onto the ground.

You let it all out. You bawled into their arms, letting out your cries. Whether it was just from sadness, or of relief, that didn’t matter. You cried, until your eyes went dry, and all of your tears were soaked into the boys’ shirts.

. . .

After a bit, all was silent, except for the breathing of you three all mixing together. Your bodies were intermingled, assuming the best position for comfort and care.

You needed to say something, anything. You needed to tell them, or else everything will fall apart.

“I can’t choose.” You put it simply, the two other boys perked up, tear stains prominently showing on both of their faces.

“(Y/N)...” Nagito mumbled.

“I desperately need the both of you. So badly. I want to love you two so much I want my lips to hurt from kissing you two so much by the end of each day. I want my hands to cramp from holding both of you two’s hands so much.” You proclaimed, letting out everything that has been building up in your heart.

“I want to wake up with the warmth of two. I want to spend my days and nights with all of my love coming from two. And...I want to try each and every new thing life brings me, with the love of two.” You gasped for air, sighing out of your mouth, regulating your breath to its normal pace.

“I understand if you don- mphf!” You were promptly shut.

Kokichi had placed his lips on yours, causing a jolt of passion to ignite your soul. The feeling was delicate and new, but it was incredibly lovely You promptly kissed back, feeling a joy you’ve never felt before in your life.

The two of you parted with the kiss when the both of you felt soft lips gently peck both of your foreheads. It was as soft as a feather, yet it made the two of you go so incredibly soft.

You and Kokichi looked up to see Nagito, a small smile on his face. One of his hands reached up to your left cheek, while the other hand made its way to Kokichi’s right. He then lovingly dragged his thumbs across both of your cheeks, smile growing wider, while his face became rosy.

“There’s...so much I want to say but...I hope my actions can at least convey how my heart wants to treat the two of you.” Nagito said, his voice dropped, but in a more of a endearing tone than anything. The boy was still smiling like this was the happiest day in his life.

“I think it would be fun if we all had a slumber party as our first date.” Kokichi giggled, nuzzling into Nagito’s long, slender fingers.

“That sounds like fun, I think it would be delightful.” Nagito playfully pinched Kokichi’s cheek lightly, causing Kokichi to giggle, smiling wide.

“But we do have one thing to take care of first...” Nagito glanced over to you, chuckling.

You were fast asleep within the palm of his hand. It made him fall in love all over again, to be honest.

Nagito and Kokichi worked to untangle themselves from your limbs, trying not to wake you. They then promptly proceeded to place you on Nagito’s back, in a comfortable position so you could keep on sleeping soundly.

“You up for taking our little Cutie back to her place?” Kokichi snickered.

“Of course, love. Only if you would accompany me? Nagito stuck out his hand, waiting for the warmth of another.

“You’re lucky I really like you, clover.” Kokichi hastily grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together.

As they began walking out to the main exit gate, Kokichi spoke.

“You know, I said a lie earlier I didn’t like. I don’t just like you...I actually really love you. The both of you. That’s something I could never lie about.” Kokichi pledged, the evening orange sky bouncing off of his face. Nagito squeezed the shorter males hand lovingly.

“I love you too, Kokichi. And not just you also, but the both of you. My heart will be forever loyal to the two of you until I rest in my own grave, remember that.”

#Dangonronpa fanfiction #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x reader #nagito x s/o #nagito komeada x reader #nagito komeada #kokichi #kokichi oma #komeada x reader #kokichi x reader #Kokichi Oma x reader #Nagito Komaeda x Reader x Kokichi Oma #nagito x kokichi x y/n #nagito x kokichi #nagito x reader x kokichi

114 notes · View notes

melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 21

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 20

Next Chapter: Chapter 22

Cordelia returned to the entrance with the dead werewolf for a second time when Alastair had figured out how to operate the water mechanism. It was confusing, apparently there was a sewer system, but it was closed off and that’s why the flood water didn’t recede. Now it was, and Cordelia realized there were even more doors and corridors where the water had been. Perhaps the flood had been on purpose. Solving this couldn’t be impossible, but it could be a pain and Tatiana had probably designed it in such a way that it could take some time to solve.

‘Lucie, are you still up there?’

‘We’re alright!’ It wasn’t Lucie, but Thomas calling back down.

‘We solved the water mechanism and can now access the lower floor!’ Cordelia called back. ‘Alastair is in a different room, he’s trying to solve a puzzle to reveal… I don’t know what it will reveal but we figured it was important. Also, we found a few keys but for some reason they break after opening a door with them. Most so far led to dead end rooms with another key.’

‘Ah, that’s annoying,’ Thomas said. ‘Probably part of the puzzle though. I think it’s common in game dungeons that you can use a key on any locked door in the area but only once.’

Cordelia frowned. ‘That makes no sense,’ she called back.

‘I guess she could have made different keys for every door as well, but this works. Good luck, and come here if you need anything!’

Cordelia hesitated. ‘Is Lucie alright?’

‘Yes, just taking a nap. She reversed the changes but it’s tiring, so she’s trying to conserve energy. Right now, everything is as it was when we entered, but I’ll keep watch.’

‘Alright, I’ll be back,’ Cordelia called up.

‘Good luck.’

Cordelia returned into the dungeon. Alastair was no longer in the room with the puzzle, instead he was standing in the corridor that was formerly flooded. It smelled disgusting down there, and Alastair seemed quite vexed by it.

‘The bloody thing broke again!’

‘What?’

‘The key! I solved the sliding block puzzle, which was more of a physical effort than a mental one considering the blocks were heavy to move, but the only reward was another bloody key. So I figured I’d be careful with it and open this door here, and the key broke again.’

‘Thomas thinks that might be part of the puzzle design,’ Cordelia said. ‘Every key can only be used once. What’s behind that door?’

The key mechanism was a bit odd. Cordelia had tried to cut down another door, but there had been another magical barrier there. A key had been able to open it by sticking it into the air, which made no sense. Then the key had broken. None of the keys had opened the former door to Grace’ skin though, but if the design of this thing made any sense, she suspected there would be a special key. Cordelia hoped sticking the special key into the magical barrier would do the trick.

‘Another room with another puzzle. Come see.’

Cordelia took the ladder to descend into the lower floor and entered the room Alastair was in. It was a room lit by torches, one door on the other end. Along the walls were thick green vines that had overgrown another door. There was a table in the center with a cauldron, several bottles of differently colored liquids, and a recipe on a piece of paper.

Cordelia guessed it was a good thing there was another door, several of the previous rooms had been dead ends, with another puzzle to reveal another key. She suspected this one would take them deeper into the dungeon, which she imagined was where they needed to be.

‘I think we’re supposed to make a weed killer here.’ Alastair said. ‘We could probably bypass this with cortana.’

Cordelia wasn’t so sure. ‘Every time I tried to cheat with cortana, there was still a magical barrier. It looks like all the ingredients are here at least. All we have to do is follow the recipe.’

Following the recipe was not as easy as it sounded. Not all bottles were labeled, and they had to compare pictures. Some of the bottles looked very similar and were hard to distinguish on the drawing. Still, Alastair seemed sure of what he was doing. Cordelia not so much.

‘You’re not supposed to add that yet!’ Cordelia yelled.

‘Yes, I do,’ Alastair groaned. ‘It’s right here.’

‘No, that’s this bottle,’ Cordelia insisted.

‘No it’s not.’

‘And after that, you add exactly three petals of this flower,’ Cordelia added.

‘You do it then,’ Alastair said, putting down the bottle and stepping away from the potion.

Cordelia thankfully took his place and added a different bottle which she believed was the correct one. Not much later they were having a similar discussion, arguing about which of the two remaining bottles needed to emptied into the cauldron and which one was to be discarded.

‘You’re so bloody stubborn,’ Cordelia groaned. ‘Can’t you just accept that I’m right?’

‘I would if you were actually right,’ Alastair said in a superior tone. ‘As it is, I’m absolutely certain you need to use this bottle.’

Cordelia checked the instructions once more and guessed maybe Alastair was right. The drawing was inconclusive to say the least.

‘Alright, I’ll try this one. But if it all blows up, I’m blaming you.’

‘I can live with that. Just do it.’

Cordelia took the bottle Alastair believed was the right one, and emptied it over the cauldron, stirring three times counter clockwise as described.

‘This should be it.’

‘It didn’t explode,’ Alastair said. ‘So I’m hopeful that means it works.’

‘Help me carry this.’

Cordelia was quite strong herself after years of training with cortana, but carrying an entire cauldron of this stuff to the vines was a two person job.

The vines receded, allowing them to reach the door and open it. Cordelia was very thankful this door could simply be opened and was not dependent on another key.

‘This is turning into a bloody maze,’ Alastair said, looking into the next corridor.

He had a point, the door led into a corridor with several others branching off. The pathways were much narrower than before, just wide enough for the two of them, and dimly lit by torches high up.

‘We don’t happen to have a thread, do we?’ Cordelia asked.

‘No, but we can find our way through,’ Alastair promised. ‘You just need to stay with me Layla.’

‘I’ll go warn Thomas first,’ Cordelia said. ‘That we’re entering a maze and it might be some time until we make it through.’

Cordelia climbed up to the first room as quick as she could and shouted upward. ‘Everything still alright there?’

‘Lucie just did the spell again, but she’s getting really tired, she’s taking another nap. I’m not so sure she could do it again.’

‘The next room is a maze and we’re not sure how long it will take,’ Cordelia called back.

‘Are you sure you won’t get lost?’

‘With Alastair’s memory, we can retrace our steps. He can draw a map in his head.’

‘Alright, good luck!’

Cordelia returned to Alastair, who was waiting in front of the door, and the two of them entered the maze together, Cordelia staying close to her brother.

‘I already checked this corridor and it’s a dead end,’ Alastair said.

‘We can try that one,’ Cordelia said, pointing at a corridor to the right that seemed to branch off in several other corridors.

Cordelia followed her brother and it didn’t take long for her to have no clue where she was or how to get back. The maze was dimly lit by torches and Cordelia wondered if those were magic too, or if someone had lit them recently. Their pace was slow, Alastair glancing around, careful to take in enough information to keep track of the location. There were decorations on the wall, old Corinthian style pillar like structures. They weren’t quite pillars as they were part of the wall. There was a relief, something Roman or Greek, even though they were in Scotland and the Romans had never made it here. Perhaps Tatiana liked the classics, she created this right?

Cordelia wondered how someone could create such a structure. It undoubtedly involved making a deal first, although perhaps Lucie had the power to shape things here on her own. Would she be able to make a maze like this too?

They reached a dead end and Alastair turned back, choosing another corridor. Cordelia couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the one they’d been in before, everything looked so similar, but she trusted Alastair knew what he was doing.

‘I must say this is a proper defense,’ Alastair said. ‘Chances of getting lost in here are pretty high if you don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘They say that in a maze, you should put one hand on the wall and follow that wall so that your hand never leaves it,’ Cordelia said.

‘That would work eventually, but takes forever,’ Alastair said.

Cordelia stepped on something hard. ‘Hang on for a moment,’ she said as she bent down, taking the object into her hand.

It was a key, just like the others. ‘That one could have been easy to miss,’ Cordelia said, putting the key in her pocket. ‘Good thing I stepped on it.’

‘Not another key,’ Alastair groaned. ‘How many more of these things are out here?’

‘I don’t want to know,’ Cordelia said. ‘But I’m glad we found it now and don’t reach the exit and realize there we missed a key somewhere.’

‘I think if that happened, I would murder Tatiana, ask Lucie to bring me her ghost and then murder her again.’

Cordelia couldn’t say she disagreed. She guessed exploring such an underground structure would be fun in a video game, but in real life it involved a lot of walking and if you failed at something you couldn’t always just try again.

After some more time of trying different paths and Alastair telling her where to go next, they reached a door with a lock on it. The exit.

Cordelia tried her key and it fit. Once again, it broke off while Cordelia opened the door, rendering the key useless but the door opened.

‘Stupid key,’ Alastair muttered, along with a string or Persian curse words he would never have dared speak in their mother’s presence.

‘At least the door is open.’

The next room was a large dome shaped hall, much lighter than the others. There was an opening to the surface at the top of the room that let light from outside in, but they would never be able to reach it from here. Nor would they fit through, as there were bars blocking the exit.

There were no doors apart from the once through which they entered, and in the middle of the room on an elevated platform was a key.

‘If I were to design this dungeon to keep something of mine safe, this would definitely be a trap.’

‘I agree,’ Cordelia said. ‘But that key has to be the one to Grace’ skin.’

It was a golden key, bigger than the others. This had to be it. If it were a video game, the dungeon would probably end in a fight against some monster who was here to guard the key, but Cordelia had already fought a werewolf, and besides, where would a monster come from here? There was nowhere it could be hidden. But there could be a number of deadly traps on the platform itself.

Cordelia held cortana in front of her and carefully took a step closer until her sword reached the key. She used the dull edge to make sure the key wasn’t harmed in the process, and pulled it towards her, off the platform. She carefully picked up the key from the ground. As she did, the door behind her slammed shut.

‘Now you’ve done it,’ Alastair groaned, turning back and trying to open the door.

Locked, just as expected. She had the key, but now they had no way out. Water started filling up the room, slowly at first, but progressively faster.

‘There has to be a solution!’ Cordelia said. ‘Some way to stop the water and get the door to open.’

‘There’s no time! I knew it was a trap.’

The water reached Cordelia’s waist already. It was cold water, chilled her to the bone. If they didn’t drown, they might as well die from hypothermia.

‘Yes, we both did. But at least I have the key.’

‘Which is no use if we don’t get out of here,’ Alastair hissed. ‘We’ve come too far to drown in gross water.’

***

Thomas was growing worried. He hadn’t heard a thing from Alastair or Cordelia ever since they’d mentioned they had to go into a maze next. Which made sense, going into a maze might take a while and they might not be able to report back as easily anymore. If anyone could navigate a maze, it was Alastair. With his memory, he’d know where he’d been and where to go. He would be able to trace his own route back. They could do this. But Thomas had no idea what else was waiting down there. It seemed to be a rule that there had to be a solution, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any deadly traps.

Lucie was napping. Thomas didn’t think she was really asleep, but at least lying down as comfortably as she could with her eyes closed allowed her some rest. It was becoming difficult for her, Thomas could tell. The wall had changed again, the first sign, but Thomas wasn’t sure if he should wake Lucie already. It was only the first change, it wasn’t coming close to the land of the thief of souls yet.

Lucie sat up for a moment, rubbing her eyes, smudging some dark make up into the corner of her eye. ‘That’s odd,’ she said.

‘What is?’

‘There’s a ghost here,’ she said. ‘Just behind you.’

Thomas instinctively looked before realizing, of course, he wasn’t going to see a ghost.

Lucie tilted her head, her gaze fixated on something behind Thomas. ‘Well, I think it’s a ghost. But it looks like how people portray ghosts in movies, not the way ghosts usually look. White and transparent.’

‘I don’t see anything,’ Thomas said. ‘So that probably confirms it’s a ghost. Can you make them visible?’

Lucie looked into the distance, her gaze fixated on something Thomas did not see. ‘Show yourself.’ There was an air of authority in her voice, she was no longer asking, she was commanding.

A woman appeared in the middle of the ruins. She didn’t seem as Lucie had described, she did not look like a movie ghost, nor was she transparent. She looked vaguely familiar but Thomas couldn’t tell why. She had to be in her early thirties, he guessed. Long brown hair, kind eyes. Upon closer look, they seemed greenish, a rare color. Similar to his father’s eyes though.

‘Who are you?’ Lucie asked.

‘My name is Barbara. Barbara Lightwood.’

Thomas’ mouth fell open. ‘No, it can’t be. You’re not her.’

Barbara was his sister. Barbara was twenty three and had recently graduated as a nurse. Barbara was in Paris with her boyfriend Oliver, and they were having fun. She wasn’t a ghost. The woman did resemble Barbara, but Thomas could tell it wasn’t her. For one, she was too old. Some of the features didn’t match. His sister Barbara had brown eyes, this woman’s eyes were green like his father’s. But he had to admit the resemblance was startling. Then it hit him. His grandmother, Benedict’s wife, was also called Barbara. His father had named Thomas’ eldest sister Barbara in her memory, just like Thomas himself had been named after a close friend of his mother’s who’d died young. This woman was his grandmother, who’d died when his father was five.

‘What do you mean?’ the woman asked. ‘You do not know me, do you? Can you tell me where I am? I need to get home as soon as I can. My children aren’t safe. My husband is up to something and I need to get the children and run before something happens to them.’

‘Do not worry. Your children are fine,’ Lucie said.

Thomas wasn’t so sure that was true, but he suspected Barbara didn’t realize how much time had passed. She believed she had very young children who were with her husband. His father had been around five when she died. It occurred to Thomas that she’d figured out what he was up to. She’d tried to run. Thomas had never realized, he didn’t think his father had either. Was trying to leave why she’d died? Thomas had been told abusive partners were at their most dangerous when one tried to leave.

‘No, they’re not,’ Barbara insisted. She looked terrified. ‘I do not know what it is Benedict’s doing, but it’s bad and I cannot allow him to be around my children. It is not safe for them. I will contact my brother Silas, we can stay with him until I have it all worked out and know we’re safe from Benedict. I had it all planned out.’

‘You died,’ Lucie said. ‘Ghosts do not always realize. You’ve been dead for a very long time. Your children are all grown up.’

Barbara turned to Thomas and took him in. She squinted, taking all of him in. ‘You look so much like him… Is that you, are you my Gideon? I always knew you were going to grow to be very tall.’

Thomas tried to hide the tears in the corners of his eyes. It was all becoming a bit much. ‘No, my name is Thomas. Thomas Lightwood. Gideon Lightwood is my father. And he’s not as tall as me, although he is still taller than average.’

‘Your father… How long has it been? He was five, the last time I saw him. Just this high.’ She held up her hand to indicate how tall his father had been,.

‘He’s forty five now,’ Thomas said.

‘It’s been forty years?’ Barbara’s mouth fell open. ‘I’ve been gone for that long? And my children have grown up without me. I should have been there for them, I should not have left them alone in that big house. Benedict has gone mad.’

‘Benedict died years ago,’ Thomas assured her. ‘We’re all safe from him.’

‘I think it’s the same as with Jesse,’ Lucie said. ‘He didn’t remember anything from where he’d been, and I don’t think Barbara does either. Jesse did realize he was dead, but he could only tell how long it’s been because he recognized me and saw I’d aged.’

‘Where have I been?’ Barbara asked. ‘The last thing I remember is packing up to leave. I had to make sure he didn’t find out, so I hid a suitcase in my closet and secretly packed whatever I would need. He never looks there. I packed clothes, the children’s toys. All my jewelry so I’d have some funds.’

‘What happened after?’ Thomas asked. ‘Did he find out you were trying to leave?’

Barbara closed her eyes, as if she was trying to remember. ‘He did find my suitcase. He realized I planned to leave with the children. He got so mad, I don’t think I’d ever been so scared. I wanted to run, damn the suitcase, but Tatiana was in the nursery and Gabriel was in the play room, and I had to get to them first. I couldn’t leave without my babies. And then he went into his study and although I didn’t understand why, I rushed to my children. I thought I’d get Gabriel and Tatiana, get in the car and go to my brother, and then I could pick Gideon up from school. But I don’t think I ever reached my children. That is the last thing I remember.’

‘That must have been when he made the deal,’ Lucie said. ‘Perhaps he didn’t want to at first, or at least had some doubts, but when he realized Barbara was leaving he decided to make her the sacrifice.’

‘What did he do to me?’ Barbara’s voice broke as she asked that question.

‘Uhm, we’re not completely sure,’ Thomas said. ‘But we think he traded your soul for power. We’re still figuring out what’s going on or why you’re here. We think you can’t remember anything because you were with the thief of souls.’

Was that why she’d appeared more ghost like than usual? Perhaps because she’d been in the realm of the thief of souls, and they were in between, so she was only half there. Perhaps by demanding she show herself, Lucie had pulled her through. Would there be a cost if they set her free? Thomas imagined it wasn’t the same as trading him for Jesse, Benedict must have promised his wife and he never remarried so he didn’t have another wife for the thief of souls to take. Besides, Lucie hadn’t made a deal. She’d taken Barbara away from him, perhaps she could take her into their world as well.

‘I don’t understand,’ Barbara said. ‘He killed me, you say? But what then? Who is the thief of souls? Why can’t I remember?’

Thomas frowned, and then turned to Lucie. ‘Could you make her remember?’

‘I command you to remember what happened the past years.’

Barbara stared blankly. ‘I still don’t remember anything.’

‘That doesn’t work,’ Lucie mused. ‘Perhaps if Alastair helps me. Memory is his domain, ghosts are mine, perhaps if we somehow combine our powers we can help her remember.’

‘They haven’t checked in in a while,’ Thomas said. ‘I think it’s because they went into a maze and it takes longer, but I have no clue how they’re doing.’

‘If anyone can do it, it’s them,’ Lucie said. ‘They won’t get lost.’

‘I don’t understand what you are discussing,’ Barbara said. ‘What happened after I died? My husband killed me. But my children, they are fine? He didn’t hurt them?’

‘Mostly,’ Thomas said. ‘They grew up in Benedict’s house, and I think it wasn’t easy for them. They didn’t realize at the time just how dangerous it was what he was doing.’

Thomas guessed perhaps Benedict did somewhat care about his children, perhaps he would be proud that Tatiana was following in his footsteps. Perhaps it was what he would have wanted for his father and uncle Gabriel. But he was also the kind of man who’d neglected his children, expected them to be his heirs rather than human beings.

‘My father found out eventually, with the help of my mother, Sophie. And then Benedict turned into a giant worm, we’re not sure why exactly, and was killed. I think it was difficult, for them, to process, but my father and uncle Gabriel found ways to cope with it and found support.’

Thomas wasn’t sure exactly how much damage had never healed, but he suspected it was part of why his father cared so much about Alastair. Because like him, Alastair had never had a father he could love or respect. What would it take for Alastair to see that Thomas’ father cared about him, and not just his ability?

Barbara frowned. ‘And Tati? What happened to her?’

Thomas wasn’t sure how to tell her this. The last she remembered of her daughter was a one year old girl, a baby. He sighed, there was no easy way to say this but he couldn’t keep it from her. ‘Tatiana had a son. Jesse was his name. And at some point in his life, Benedict had promised a grandchild to the same being he sacrificed you to. The choice came down to me or Jesse. So when Jesse was twelve and I was nearly fourteen, he died. And now Tatiana made a deal to bring him back. We have not been on good terms with her in a long time.’

He heard a sound from beneath the trap door, something he could not make out. Thomas shone down with his flashlight and realized it was water. Water gushing into the hall, slowly flooding the area. Thomas’ breathing quickened. The place was flooding. Alastair and Cordelia were still in there. They were going to drown, and there was nothing Thomas could do about it. But perhaps Lucie could.

‘Lucie!’

‘What is it?’

‘The dungeon, it’s flooding and Alastair and Cordelia are still down there.’

In the distance, Thomas heard a song. He could make out a sweet feminine voice that sounded like the sea and all he wanted was to go to her. He forgot about Alastair and Cordelia, he forgot about his worries. The song, the girl, she was all that mattered. He would do whatever she asked of him, no questions asked. Why should he? There was nothing he wanted more than to serve her, to be near her always. He could not remember what else there was for him.

#Alastair Carstairs #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

14 notes · View notes

justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years

Text

ex finds a stowaway. what happens next may surprise you.

set in @martuzzio‘s space outlaw au, as ever. this was one of the fics i wanted to write early on and i’m super chuffed i’ve finished it. a faster pace to my previous few, but still 5.5k.

featuring: ex goes on a journey of character growth feat. someone who definitely isn’t zedaph, ex actually learns to use the word ‘friend’, some tense brotherly discussions, emotions, ex basically holds zedaph up like ‘whose child is this???’, also try not to think of zedaph as a pack creature on his own for that long with only his shawl for comfort cause that hurts a lot.

warnings: tbh if you’ve read my other fics then you’ll be fine, this is tame. very brief shoot-out. emotions. that’s all i can think of.

In all of Ex's (too many) years alive, it's never taken him this long to notice a stowaway before. He's had them, of course. It's usually kids sneaking onto ships that don't know better. They're looking for adventure. Though, they stop looking once they see him. Dropping them off to their parents or kicking them off his ship is easy enough. When it's more serious... Well, he figures it out. He's not Xisuma, but he's not heartless either. Up until now, he's always found them before he took off, or a few hours into flight.

He finds the blond in the middle of deep space.

It's not like he's hidden well, either. He's curled up tightly in the storage hold, tucked in the corner behind some boxes. His arm acts a pillow, a woollen shawl draped over his shoulders. There's only a small rucksack tucked close to torn robes. From the slow rise and fall of his chest, he's sound asleep. Ex sighs, unsure how to proceed from here. It's too late to turn back and drop him off. He doesn't look very threatening, at least. Ex nudges the guy with his toe, watching him rock back and forth. The guy whines.

"Hey. Get up." Ex gets a frown, blue eyes blinking open. He looks ahead of him tiredly, reaching to rub his face before freezing, bolting upright.

"Wh- oh. Um." Ex reaches for the gun on his hip, twirling it before pointing it at the ground. The blond's mouth falls open. "Oh, that's not good."

"Who are you?" Ex asks, keeping his sentences short. This guy looks flighty as anything, shoulders drawn in so he can lean away.

"Woo- William. My name's William." Ex narrows his eyes, tilting the gun closer to him. The guy squeaks.

"I don't believe you." Ex stares him down.

"That's it, that's my name, I'm not lying. Why would I lie to the scary man with a gun?" He swallows, tacking on, "Please don't kill me." Ex keeps his expression neutral and harsh.

"The hell are you doing on my ship?" He demands. Hopefully he'll be smart enough not to lie about that. The guy twists his hands in front of him.

"I just needed safe passage! That's all. There's some people that don't particularly like me and I just- I had to get away!"

"And what's stopping me from giving you to them?" The look of fear that enters those blue eyes would be enough on its own. The blond, Ex might as well call him William, looks devastated. His whole expression crumbles.

"You-" His eyes dart around the hold. Ex can see his arms tense, ready to push himself up.

"There's nowhere to run. We're in the middle of deep space." William doesn't even look at him anymore. He tugs the shawl tighter around his shoulders, beginning to look very small. His breathing has turned into small puffs. Ex sighs, slotting his gun back in its sheath. "What have you been having to eat? To drink?" He asks. William blinks in confusion, glancing up to him. He doesn't quite make eye contact.

"Um, there's some food in one of the crates. Biscuits. I'm really sorry- I was hungry." Ex sighs, making a decision he's pretty sure he's going to regret. He holds his hand out.

"Come on. Get up." William pulls his shawl closer, eyeing him with apprehension. "I'm taking you to the kitchen, idiot. Unless you want to fade away down here."

"Oh." William quietly releases his shawl, hand hovering. "Can I take my bag?" Ex can't imagine anything dangerous being in a bag like that, but he's no fool.

"Give it here."

"Do I have to?" Ex scowls at him. William visibly pales. He gathers up his bag, pushing it into Ex's awaiting hand.

"You can have it back after you eat. And I make sure there's nothing dangerous in it." Ex slings the bag onto his shoulder, taking some care with the contents.

"Okay. That sounds fair." Ex avoids commenting, offering his hand again. William takes it this time. He's as light as Ex expecting, falling into his front with a panicked, "Sorry!" Ex shakes his head, pushing William in front of him. As harmless as he seems, Ex knows better than to take unnecessary chances.

He was right that William looked starved. He's tall but tiny, barely any weight on him. The robe hangs off his frame shapeless, a sash wrapped into a belt keeping it on. William tells him in a quiet voice that he's vegetarian, and then eats the food Ex cooks like he hasn't eaten in a week. And if he's been in the hold only eating biscuits, maybe that's accurate.

"Thank you so much," William pushes the plate away, dropping his hands into his lap. Ex nods, only halfway through his own plate. "I- um. Can't actually remember the last time I had a cooked meal. That was really nice." Ex raises his eyebrows. He's not even going to ask. He has a feeling he won't get a straight answer.

"Did you have a destination in mind?"

William shrugs, "Wouldn't have gotten on a random ship if I did."

"Good. Because I'm not going off course for you." William laughs very gently, pressing back against the chair.

"That's- that's okay. I'll probably just find another ship. That's what I've been doing." He can see William tug at his robe. It shows how thin the fabric is. Ex furrows his brow.

"How long have you been running?" He asks. William looks surprised at the question. He tugs the robe tighter, shifting his shawl from its position. He resets it quickly.

"I don't remember." William's voice is incredibly small. Ex silently curses. He swore to himself a long time ago he wouldn't get attached to humans. He's never understood Xisuma and his ever-changing entourage. Their lives are so short. Blink and you miss it. But, here, this one, sat across from him. Ex knows how exhausting running is.

He's growing attached. Damn it.

He's proved right when Ex shows him to his room. He gives William's bag back. There was barely anything in it anyway. A spare robe, empty water bottle, a broken thread bracelet, a notepad (detailing his travels, Ex thinks), a de-tangling brush and a tiny amount of change. He's pretty confident this guy isn't a threat to him. He'll keep the bedroom door locked anyway.

"Um." William pauses at the door, cradling his bag. Ex crosses his arms. "Thank you. Again," he says, "You've been really nice to me. I appreciate that."

"It's a few weeks until the next port," Ex tells him. William nods.

"I can help out where I can?" He suggests. "I can... Clean or cook, maybe? I'm not very good at it but-" Ex holds his hand up and the rambling trails off.

"Tomorrow. I'll find something." William's shoulders relax.

"Thank you."

True to his word, Ex finds him something to do. Sure, it's dusting, but it's an easy way to keep an eye on him. Ex is no idiot. He's thought things through. He doesn't need to let William near any dangerous chemicals, he can steer him from important machinery and he's not going to do much to Ex with a duster.

He doesn't think he'd be able to do much anyway with that little muscle.

Ex tries to remember what he's learnt about humans. It's not like he's unfamiliar with them, the damn things are everywhere. Fragile yet resilient, they find their way into everything. Ex did his best to avoid them. Now, he has no idea what to do with this one on his ship.

He's pretty sure this is an adult human, at least. The children are usually smaller and talk in higher voices. Far more annoying, too. William listens to him. He stays out of Ex's way, always on the edges. Ex feels slightly reassured he's not accidentally kidnapping a child. That's the last thing he needs. His bounty is high enough. Sure it isn't kidnapping if he came onto the ship himself, but like the authorities care.

Two days after Ex found William, the blond approaches him.

"Um." He's holding the front of his shawl, tugging it tighter around him. He's not changed clothes yet. Though, what would he change into? "I was just thinking I- uh. I don't know what to call you." William shifts from foot to foot. "You don't have to tell me, of course! That's fair! But I keep calling you scaryblueishman in my head which is kind of rude." Ex raises his eyebrows, staring down at the human.

"Ex." Blue eyes narrow.

"Ex?" William sounds confused. "That's just a letter."

"E-X," he spells out, with a dead stare. William still looks skeptical but he nods, mouthing the name before he speaks again.

"Okay. Ex." He nods again, a bit more confident. "It's nice to meet you properly." Ex grunts, turning away to focus on directions. William doesn't leave, his shadow moving awkwardly in Ex's peripherals. Ex finally glances to him.

"What else?"

William takes a deep breath, "Is there a way I could clean my robe? I mean, I'm happy to just do it in a sink with water, but I wanted to check first." Ex wrinkles his nose.

"Please do." William shrinks in, tugging his shawl tight. He focuses on the ground.

"Sorry, yeah. I'll- I'll do that." William skitters away quickly and Ex is left with the feeling he said the wrong thing. He frowns, before deciding it isn't his problem. If William has an issue, he can deal with it.

At dinner that night, William is dressed in his other robe, and his hair is heavy with water. With his face clean, he has a pleasant glow to his cheeks. Ex is surprised how much healthier it makes him look. He sits at the counter with him, in the routine they've silently established.

"I'll wash this one tomorrow," William tells him. "But I needed something to wear whilst the other one dried soooo...." It's the first time Ex has seen him without the shawl on. Part of him wants to ask where it is.

"Didn't you use the dryer?" Ex asks instead, pointing to his hair. William pats it, face opening up as he remembers it's wet.

"It's wool. I have to let it air dry or it shrinks." He pretends to shiver. "That's never fun, do not recommend." Ex's thoughts come to a crashing halt. He was fairly certain humans didn't have wool for hair. He knits with wool. Is this some kind of genetic tampering again? Humans always seem to do that.

"Wool?" He questions, seeing an opportunity to prod into William's past either way. William nods, pulling out a strand of hair. It reveals the tight waves in it. Then he seems to realise what Ex is asking and blanches.

"Oh- uh." The hands withdraw back, pressing into his lap now he has no shawl to fiddle with. "You thought I was human, didn't you?"

"You're not," Ex replies, keeping a blank tone. William shakes his head, hair swishing as he does.

"Most people think I am but- well, you're already doing me a big favour by not killing me." His eyes dart to him and back to his plate. "So, uh, I guess I'm related to humans? I'm mostly human. But I'm like... Also related to sheep."

"Sheep," Ex checks, "Those big fluffy things that humans used to farm?"

"Yes! Those!" William bounces in his seat. "I look human so usually I just pretend I am. Makes life easier. But, kinda slipped up here." He fiddles with his robe. Ex can understand that. He's often thought his life would be far easier if he was just a human. But his life would be far easier if a lot of things were different. Being a more common species is a star in the galaxy against his problems.

"Does this mean I get to know your name?" Ex asks. He's surprised how pleased he is when William laughs at his teasing. There’s not a hint of nervousness in it this time.

"You're still stuck on that, aren't you?" William leans forward on the table. "I'm gonna keep it secret. Give you a reason to keep me around."

"So you admit it's not your name."

"Ah." William looks to the side. "You got me there." Ex smirks, continuing to eat. He can't remember the last time he made someone properly laugh. Probably Xisuma. William, whatever his name is, he's... He's not bad.

He finds himself trusting William as more time passes. He's given him no reason not to. William follows him into the engine room to figure out why a light keeps flashing. He sits in the navigation bay as Ex redirects around a police stop. He watches and he learns. He talks, too. Ex is amazed someone can chatter so much.

The first few times he trails off once he realises he's doing it. So Ex tries to encourage the conversation. He grunts, nods, tries all those things you usually do. Things he's never cared for before. He likes listening to William speak. The way his brain jumps from topic to topic. He's surprisingly sharp for someone stowing away on an outlaw’s ship. Ex would never admit it, but he prefers it to the silence.

"You might be able to move that wire," William points out. The damn targeting system has stopped working this time. He should’ve known better than to take the cheap junk. "Connect it directly into the power source. Seems like the surge detector is malfunctioning." William rests his hand on his chin. "Actually, test the surge detector with something else first. In case it's a problem with the power source." Ex nods, before looking at William with suspicion.

"When did you become a technician?" William laughs quietly, scratching the back of his hair.

"Um, picked it up over time," he replies. "My friends used to be really good at it so I got the basics from them. Then I kinda needed to know to survive." There's something tight in William's voice when he mentions his friends, how he skips over it quickly and continues explaining what they should do. Ex doesn't comment on it any further. It's hardly like William will be sticking around.

Until they reach the next port. William quietly asks where he's going next. Ex tells him. He doesn't bring attention to the relief in William's eyes.

They become travelling partners after that. William is there with excited comments and a bounce in his step. He has a surprising range of technical know-how, with unconventional but surprisingly effective solutions. Ex finds himself enjoying the company. He thought he'd mind more. Silence is something he's used to. Something he could retreat into for safety. William never pressures him. He doesn't expect replies. He fills a space Ex didn't know needed filling.

And Ex learns things. William speaks fondly of his family, but he hasn't seen them for a long time. He has a wide knowledge of ships, various organisations and federations. He has a sharp wit, he enjoys watching comedies, he likes napping where Ex is nearby. It's been a long time since Ex has tried to learn about another person. He writes down each small fact so he doesn't forget.

He does ask one day, "You are an adult, right?" William looks up, his smile full of cheek.

"On paper!" So, he gives up on that enquiry. He'll just assume he is.

But William never brings up his friends again. If it weren't for the brief mentions of family, Ex would assume he didn't have a life before meeting him.

That changes, one night.

Ex stopped locking William's bedroom a long time ago. It's so rare he leaves his room anyway. Ex trusts him with far worse around the ship. He wakes up too easily for William to sneak up on him. Or doesn't sleep at all. Like tonight, Ex wanders the ship aimlessly.

He finds William on the bridge. The systems are powered down for the night. It's a piece of junk, but the windows still tower over them. William is sat against one, a shadowed silhouette against the stars. His shawl is slipping off his shoulder. There's something sad in his eyes, the stars reflected in the blue. Ex's footsteps are silent. He sits across from William and blue eyes turn to him.

"Sorry," William's voice is so quiet in the open space. "Did I keep you up?"

"I didn't know you were here," Ex replies. William smiles, resting against the window again. He looks small against the stars.

His next words are quieter, "It feels so lonely, sometimes." Ex watches William tug his shawl tighter, pull his legs a bit closer. "All of this space."

"I've been alone for a long time," Ex tells him. "I'm used to it." William looks at him closely and Ex feels more examined than he has in a long time.

"I'm not sure if I pity you or I'm jealous."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted." William smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"I wish I could just not care." He breathes out, shaking slightly. "I miss them so much. It's been years." Years aren't very long to Ex, but he doesn't mention that.

"Your family?"

"No-" William turns back to the stars "-My friends."

"Can't you see them?" William's laugh is more of a sob.

"I'm pretty sure they're dead." He stands, pulling his shawl tight. With the light on his face, Ex can make out the shine of tears. "I'm going to sleep. I'm sorry."

By the time Ex can find the words to reply, William is already gone.

The next day, whilst they sit together in the common room, William speaks for the first time since that conversation.

"My name's Zedaph." Ex turns to him quickly. "My real name."

"That sounds less real than William," Ex replies, furrowing his brows. William, well, Zedaph, now, gasps in mock surprise.

"Says the person with a letter!" He cries, prodding his finger forward. He can’t reach. Ex smirks. He'll write that down later. Zedaph.

Zedaph only gets more bubbly now he's revealed his name. It occurs to Ex he could use it to look him up. He could unwrap this mystery of a person. Yet he... Doesn't. Zedaph is- Ex doesn't want to betray his trust. Zedaph has brought something new to his miserable life. He's precious. Ex doesn't want to break what they have.

Except he messes up.

Zedaph doesn't even have armour as the authorities unload on them. Ex shoves him forward, putting up a shield behind them so they can run. Zedaph stumbles as a shot bounces off the shield. He grabs a table from outside the cafe, dragging it over onto the pavement. Ceramic shatters across paved streets, water spilling into cobbles. People are standing, with loud gasps and shouts. Zedaph looks to Ex, nodding before sprinting alongside him. Ex grabs his wrist, using his free hand to fire shots back at the authorities in the hopes of keeping them away.

They turn a corner and Ex doesn't hesitate to pull Zedaph down another side alley. He refuses to let either of them drop the pace, keeping Zedaph firmly beside him. It takes several more twists and turns until Ex is certain they've lost their pursuers. He still keeps a brisk pace, determined to get back to the ship before they're spotted. Zedaph is puffing beside him.

"I knew this was a mistake," Ex mutters. He still has his hand digging tightly around Zedaph's wrist.

"What?" Zedaph asks. His feet are dragging as he tries his best to keep up. Ex huffs, glaring at him.

"You," he spits. "You've got no armour, you could've died if they shot you. I should’ve left you at that port. This is my damn fault." Zedaph's eyes narrow into a returning glare. He tries to snatch his arm back from Ex but Ex holds fast.

"No, that's not fair," he protests. "To start with, they were after us because of me." Ex holds his arm still between them, halting them both. There's barely room to breathe in the tight alley. He hates these small towns.

"Why would they be after you?" He demands. Zedaph doesn't back down.

"They found me in their record room. I ran but they must've recognised me." Ex stares the blond down, watching as he breathes heavily. He finally yanks his arm, setting a quick pace.

"We're talking about this on the ship," he tells him, voice firm.

"Of course we will," Zedaph mutters. Ex doesn't dignify him with a reply.

"Why would you do something so stupid?" He never realised how tall Zedaph is until he's glaring back at him, hands bunched in his shawl. His bag has been thrown on the ground.

"I do it at every planet," Zedaph replies, voice raised but not shouting. "This is just the first time you've noticed."

"And you didn't think to tell me this?"

"I told you there were people after me," Zedaph retorts. Ex rolls his eyes.

"You didn't say that was the police."

"Well, they're one of them. Happy now?"

"What did you even need to be in the stupid record room for?" Ex can barely keep still for his frustration. This stupid, fragile idiot. "What's worth risking your life for?" Zedaph stalks to his bag, picking it up and clutching it in his arms.

"I have to try, okay!" Zedaph doesn't meet his eyes. He's curled around his bag protectively, twisted away from Ex. "For my friends! My best friends-" His voice breaks. Zedaph buries his face into the bag, shoulders shaking and oh god- he's crying. He's crying and this is all Ex's fault.

He barely gets his arms around Zedaph in an attempt at a hug for him to fall against Ex. The bag is squashed between them, and Ex does the best to rub his trembling back, unsure what to do or say.

"There there?" He attempts, thinking to parents and their children. A laugh bubbles out of Zedaph. He steps away but there's still tears in his eyes. He rubs at them with the back of his arm.

"You don't- you don't have to do that." Zedaph smiles at him, his cheeks still shining. "This is kinda stupid, isn't it? Oh my word, I feel like a kid all over again. Crying over things I can't change." Ex pretends that sentiment doesn't hurt.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks. Zedaph hesitates. He actually thinks before he replies.

"Sure-" he shrugs "-at this point, why not? "

He keeps his bag with him as they settle in the common room. He wraps his legs around it, pulling out the small book that Ex remembers. Ex sits on another chair entirely, crossing his legs.

"I should start at the start, right?" Zedaph asks, peering at Ex under damp eyelashes.

"That might help," Ex agrees. Zedaph nods, resting his head on his bag.

"I used to have a really close herd," he begins, speaking softly. "One of them I think is okay. Skizz. But I've not been able to find him." He rubs circles onto his knee. "The other two are- were called Tango and Impulse." Something pings in Ex's head. He tries to place why. "We were a team, you know? And then just- they were gone and dead and I didn't want to believe it. I don't want to believe it."

Zedaph holds his book out. Ex takes it, opening the pages and flicking through.

"Every time I reach a port, I try to see if someone matching their descriptions has gone through." He shrugs, simply looking sad. "They never have. But I can't break the habit."

"These are the two that taught you tech?" Ex asks, pieces coming together in his head.

"Yeah!" Zedaph brightens up slightly. "The two of them were incredible. They came up with such amazing designs. For everything. The three of us could fly any ship we wanted to." He squeezes his knee. "I was never really as good as them. I can't even fill their shoes."

Ex frowns, "Don't you see how impressive you are?" Zedaph blinks at him, blue eyes wide.

"Um? No?" Ex closes the book, giving it back to Zedaph. Zedaph strokes the cover before slotting it away safely. "I can't design massive machines. Or work engines. I'm just- I'm me."

Ex raises his eyebrows, "You've successfully evaded police and however many other groups. You've kept detailed records of where you visited. You're able to make things work I'd given up on. You’re funny. Don't you see that?"

"You don't know them."

"No." Ex doesn't change tone. "But I know you." Zedaph squeezes his shawl.

"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?"

"You could always tell me more about them." Zedaph smiles very slightly, sinking into the seat.

"Yeah," he agrees. "It's been... Too long. I'd like to keep their memory alive somehow."

Ex listens closely to every word that Zedaph says. He talks into the early hours of the morning, stories upon stories. Of Impulse and how he tried to keep them together but was really just as chaotic most of the time. Tango and his fire hair, it's really amazing and his crazy ideas he somehow made work. The farms they’d come up with together, pouring over schematics into the early hours of the morning.

And Ex has all the pieces.

He needs to contact Xisuma. Damn it.

Ex doesn't want to be selfish. The thought crosses his mind. He could keep Zedaph all to himself and he'd be none the wiser. Ex would have company. They'd both be happy.

But.

How long can he keep Zedaph safe? It would be his fault if those blue eyes no longer shone as he laughs. The people after Ex are far worse than those after Zedaph. And Ex, as much as it pains him, doesn't want to be selfish. He doesn't want to be the reason Zedaph never sees his friends again.

He types out the message in silence that night.

[Ex] ive got somebody for your crew.

"And you're sure I can't come with you?" Zedaph asks, for possibly the fifteenth time that morning. Ex nods, keeping his eye on the coordinates of Xisuma's ship. It's been a long time since he's landed in there.

"You don't even have armour," Ex replies. Zedaph scoffs, spinning around in the co-pilot seat.

"I don't have to leave the ship," he suggests. "I could just sit here and look pretty."

"It'll be safer," Ex repeats, for what also must be around the tenth time. "It's a much bigger ship too. More people than just me. You’ll have space to spread out." Zedaph sighs, sliding down in the seat until he's nearly lying down.

"But what if they don't like me?" He exclaims. "At least you do."

"For now." Zed sits up at that with a noise of protest.

"Don't you start being mean," he complains. "I just don't get it. We've been fine, this works. Then we get in one firefight and you freak out!" Ex sighs, checking as they get closer.

"I've not done anything dangerous around you," Ex tells him. "And I am a dangerous man."

"You literally let me sleep on you because you're too afraid to move me," Zed points out. "You're hardly- oh, that is a really big ship." Ex looks up as Xisuma's ship comes into view in all her glory. Zedaph stares, open-mouthed at the sight. "You're putting me on that?" He asks, his face a picture of shock.

"She's a good ship, with a good crew. You'll fit in well." Zed pulls his shawl tight.

"Do you think so?" He asks.

"I know so," Ex replies. He mentally prepares himself. "You're a good friend, Zed. They'll love you." The smile on Zedaph's face is brighter than any star Ex has seen.

"Will you see me on board?" Ex sighs, before shaking his head. He doesn't want to deal with the emotions. Seeing Zedaph reunite with his proper friends. Leaving Ex behind.

"My brother will look after you," Ex tells him instead. Brother is easier than clone. There's parts of his history Zedaph simply doesn't need to know.

"I trust you."

Has anyone ever trusted Ex before?

Ex is there as Xisuma enters the ship. Zedaph looks between the two of them, eyes squinted.

"You really do look alike, huh." Xisuma shoots Ex a look. Ex shakes his head very slightly. He knows X will get the message.

"You must be Zedaph." Xisuma holds his hand out, offering a friendly smile. "Ex has told me about you." Zedaph smiles, accepting the handshake.

"You must be Xisuma." Zedaph nods. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Ex snorts at the panicked look on Xisuma's face. His brother waves his hands quickly.

"Nope, none of that. Calling me sir makes me feel far too old."

"You are far too old." Ex throws his arm around Xisuma's shoulders, purposefully knocking him off balance. "You take care of the squirt, got it?"

"Hey!" Zedaph places his hands on his hips. "I'll call you a squirt if you're not careful." Xisuma laughs, shaking his head at the two's antics.

"Of course, of course. They're all excited to meet you. Are you ready?" Zedaph gives Ex a long look. He holds up a finger.

"One minute." He jumps forward, wrapping his arms around Ex and trapping him in a hug. He's gone from a twig to nearly dislodging Ex's footing. Impressive. He raises his arms, awkwardly settling into the hug. Zedaph's grip is tight enough to squeeze his lungs.

"You know I'm gonna miss you, right?" Zedaph steps back. He pokes a finger into Ex's chest. "You better stay safe out there. I want you to visit me."

"Yeah," Ex agrees, trying to hide the uncertainty in his words. "I will." He doesn't know which one he's agreeing to. Zedaph gives him a final smile. He turns to Xisuma with all of that boundless energy.

"Okay! Let's go." Xisuma nods, letting Zedaph take the lead. He pauses at the door.

"I promise to keep him safe," he tells Ex.

"You better."

It's barely two minutes until the feeling hits him. The ship feels so much emptier now.

"Why didn't you see him off?" Ex turns to find Xisuma standing beside him with his arms crossed. He stares into the distance, looking like a trademark wise old man. Ex scoffs at the sight, resisting the urge to cross his own arms.

"He won't have any trouble getting used to your ship," he replies. Xisuma looks at him, purple eyes trying to see into Ex's soul. Ex won't let him.

"That wasn't what I asked." Ex sighs, frustrating boiling over.

"How do you do it?" He demands, turning to Xisuma with clenched fists. Xisuma hardly reacts, his expression gentle as ever. "You let these people in your life knowing you're going to lose them. Again and again." It's with those words that Xisuma looks away in thought. Ex releases his fists, realising for once, he's asked something X doesn't have an immediate answer to.

"You want the honest answer?" Purple eyes lock with purple eyes.

"Why?" Ex sneers. "Are you planning to lie to me again?" For not even a second, Ex can see Xisuma flinch. It's such a minute shift in expression that the ordinary person wouldn't notice. Shame that Ex is looking at his own face.

Xisuma pities him. Even now.

"No." Xisuma bows his head. "Because you won't like it." Ex scowls at him. He gestures his hand out for Xisuma to continue. With that same gentle expression, Xisuma sighs. He takes Ex's hand into his own and lowers it between them. "I do it with great difficulty, Ex. Is that the answer you want?" Ex freezes, unable to reply as Xisuma looks directly at him with sad eyes.

Someone shouts for Xisuma inside the landing bay. The stupid admin glances in that direction, calling out a response. He squeezes Ex's hand as he faces him. Ex snatches it away.

"I'm going to send you his number," Xisuma tells him. He gives no room for Ex to argue. "It's your choice if you stay in contact."

"Why should I?"

"Having a friend isn't going to kill you, Ex." He doesn't appreciate Xisuma's dry tone. "Consider it." Ex huffs, a stray white strand flying from his face.

"Fine."

[Xisuma forwarded a contact: Zedaph]

[Xisuma] He speaks highly of you, you know?

[Ex] is this your way to convince me

[Xisuma] Maybe.

[Xisuma] And it's nice to hear that somebody else cares about you.

...

[Ex] shut up

[Ex] sup loser

[Ex] heard you missed me

[Zedaph] Ex!!!!!!!

[Zedaph] You absolutely knew, didn’t you? I hate you so much.

[Zedaph] Oh, I have so much to catch you up on.

Ex rolls onto his side on the bed, content to watch the messages roll in.

#space outlaws #space outlaws au #hermitcraft #hc #my writing #okay so i have Thoughts about this one #so like #spoilers up ahead #firstly i threw in a skizz reference #i havent seen him but i know theyre close outside of hc #also i feel like this is the start of ex teaming up with the other 'evil' hermits lmao #he finally realises friends arent like. a bad thing #i also really enjoyed writing the shift in dynamic between x and ex #from when zed is there to when he isnt #i liked writing those two anyway #i went for a more serious ex voice though #i think it fits this au #anyway thats probably enough rambling lmao #thanks for reading i hope u enjoyed

288 notes · View notes

desire-tenderness · 3 years

Text

𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖

{This is a fanfic dreamed and desired. All I write about is my feelings, sensations and desires. TEXT BY: L.M} Day 1 - Embark on the dazzle. October 9, 2023, Monday. I am exhausted, the recording will begin on Tuesday at 11 am. I think I slept only 3 hours and 20 minutes or I’m just kicking it out loud. This was a very tiring trip I confess. Maybe because it was almost a change of two months and a week. On the bright side, the production has provided a nice apartment for me to live in. My new home is beautiful and comfortable, one block away from Crescent Street, here in Montreal - Canada. Honestly, I can’t believe I’m finally having the opportunity to work with Xavier Dolan, I left my family in Brazil to embark on this dream, I already miss them. I should tell you that I have no idea of the cast that will be on this project, but the script looks fabulous. Before I embarked on this opportunity, I realized a portion of the dream. I and 7 other members of the team dined with Dolan last Thursday, debated the first decupagents and agendas. We had already read the script before the meeting, is it a low-budget experimental drama, and honestly? I lost my breath. I’m not in the position of art director I’ve always dreamed of, but I’m in the position where I have full knowledge and experience. Curious, I am not trembling with nerves, I am completely at peace with this realization. However, very anxious. We’re less than two hours away from reuniting in Saint-Laurent with the cast of "A race by Joseph". [.... ] - Less than two hours later. Okay, I’m about to get my guts out from all the nerves. I’ve heard of some names on the list of actors, including Troye Sivan, Vincent Cassel, and Louise Coldefy. The team is sensational and fucking, Xavier is like a master for me. I need to make these days my best college. I’m at home/rental number six, it’s wonderful. I can see two cars coming through the window, and "God bless me so that Suzanne Clément is in this cast" [Spoiler, I wasn’t, I had to accept], I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, I need to splash water on my face. I lost count of how many times I filled my hands with water and threw it in my face, I needed to understand that I was really living this moment. I came out of the bathroom apprehensive. Céline handed me a cup of tea mix of Sage, Eucalyptus, Lemon Peel and said "Hey, relax, I’ll see you in the living room.. ah, one more thing, don’t freak out". I feel a chill creeping all over my body as I walk through the door frame. Everyone was waiting for me in the room so we could debate the first two weeks of the recording. I could feel my legs swaying to the point of not having enough sustenance to stand. Timothée Chalamet was sitting on the arm of Dolan’s armchair in silence, reading what would be the 4°page of some document. Quickly he gets up and presents himself squeezing my hand gently. Silence has taken over the environment, I don’t remember my name. [I remembered! ] It was remarkable how difficult he was to pronounce it, it made it all very comical, in seconds we were all laughing. At that time, other cast members performed, but my thoughts were so far away that I don’t know if I missed any important information. [Damn, how many questions are going through my head right now? I don’t even have control over them. Stop! Focus, your future depends on this delivery. ]

[.... ] With the passing of the hours I was reasonably more relaxed and with an unparalleled feeling of gratitude for what was happening to me. We discussed the script, much of it together, the day was very productive. I kept looking at him, he’s so funny and authentic, I feel comfortable now. Obviously we wouldn’t be friends, he wouldn’t notice an assistant director [even though I’m the director’s right-hand man]. The team will be dining with the cast soon, it’s 5:47 pm and I haven’t been able to confirm my presence at this dinner. What’s my problem?! Celine: You’ll go, right? We’ll go home together and unpack. Me: Oh Céli, I don’t think I will. I have a lot to pack, tomorrow starts the recordings and I want to do everything right. Celine: No, you are not going to organize things by yourself. Nor has dinner there in the house, let’s eat please, I’m starving. Think you need to catch up! Me: Relax Celi, I’ll do things in my time, have a wine while I cook something and sleep early. Look, Wednesday we won’t record.. We can go downtown and get a quick look at the city, what do you think? Celine: You’re hopeless. Well, I’ll tell you about it. Arriving at the apartment I opened all the windows, and went to cook thinking about what the following days would be like. I decided then that I should not intensify anything, it could disrupt me at work and I can’t let my impulsive Aryan side get out of hand. I decided to go to the disco and see what the last song the host of the apartment heard. Well, did you start playing Nick Drake’s Pink Moon and honestly? I can’t let the pink moon get me. Fuck, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life, it’s as fascinating as on screens or in photographs. [Stop! Concentrate. ] [...] 00:01 am The wine bottle is 98% empty now. I have not yet fallen asleep and Celine is already in her 8th deepest sleep. I need to sleep. She said that they were so energized, that the team’s relationship is great and that she ate a delicious Poutine, I found it very courageous for those who will spend the whole day recording tomorrow. [I’m laughing alone while imagining a disaster] I will sleep and tomorrow will be the first day of my life. I swear I was born now and suddenly everything changed. Things will be built from now on. Timothée Chalamet? I hear you’re a good actor, I don’t know you. Good night and see you soon.

Part 2

Day 50 - And I’m probably happy, could it be different? November 27, 2023, Friday. There are times I do not write in this "virtual diary", my days are super busy. Today we finish the work a little earlier, we finish the movie! I think it’s 4:00 now. Right, and why did I come back to write? Well, I wanted to forget the feeling that took me completely 50 days ago. But today something has happened that does not allow me to escape any feeling that exists here. Louise is severely ill, Christ! We’re at the end of the shoot, she’s Timothée’s date, missing four takes of a kiss between them for her last acting scene. Dolan needed two different angles and he didn’t have a voice voice available so suddenly. Louise and I have very similar hair and what I feared went through Dolan’s mind. "Be the Double" he said. Yeah, Chalamet and I kissed today, and, hell, there was no professionalism on my part or for a millisecond, I feel terrible! I felt like I had been thrown out of a plane and I was in a free fall. My heart had never accelerated so much. My fantasy almost made me believe that one of the butterflies in my stomach was coming out of my mouth 1 minute later. Holy shit! [What if it was not reciprocal? Of course it was not, silly! We are friends. ] I’m so pissed about it, I’ll tell them why.

All these days I’ve really become friends with Timothée, can you believe it? I’ve always been very afraid to talk to him because he doesn’t find me interesting enough. But we have an unusual tune. We had a lot of coffee together, a lot of claquettes I hit due to recording mistakes, we went out with the guys several times, even "alone" and that’s okay, we talked about Brazil and he made sure to go there anytime, I even smoked one of his cigarettes, even hating cigarettes. We were talking about how funny Vincent is and how amazing he is, and we were talking about how they were both working for the first time with Xavier Dolan. We laughed at stupid things until the belly hurt and even bet race in the parking lot next to the location. [He won, of course, has huge legs].

One day we were together cutting fruit for the rest of the team on the set as we talked about Georges de La Tour, "That ordinary painter" I said, and he gave a delicious laugh. He’s much simpler than I thought he could be, carries an admirable humility. And I swear, it was fine, because I was fascinated by that friendship and I could feel that it would last for many years. I’ve learned to deal with your stunning beauty. I liked the way he accepted me and had fun with me. He didn’t think I was silly. I was working for a salary and a bright future, and suddenly I felt I had won the lottery until that moment after the kiss. I feel like I’m failing at my resolve. To finish screwing with my mind, Celine told me something that made me much more sensitive about a feeling that, I swear, once again, I had managed to forget. Although I often fantasized that a mood was going on, I knew it was impossible. He definitely sees me as the cool girl makes him laugh and that he can truly trust. Celine: Look. I, for recklessness, overheard Timothée talking to Troye about you. I did not hear enough but I must say that your tone of voice was of pure indignation... Troye said, "She’s the kind of girl you want so much, you feel sorry for". Me: God damn it, did he hate my kiss?! I’m going to die, Celine! Troye clearly should be making fun of the situation. Who am I supposed to show up at Dolan’s tomorrow for dinner? Celine: Calm friend, you are traveling.. I have noticed things and I will not open my mouth. Everything will be fine, seriously.. kiss the chalamet? How can you be angry about that? [laughed] By the way, tomorrow after dinner, I’ve arranged to spend the night at Julie’s, do you want to go? Me: Oh.. I’m not in the mood to hear Julie talk all night about the new vegan recipes, sorry, pal. Celine: Okay.. I won’t bring you nice things. [My phone vibrated. I was reluctant to look, but it could be work.. ] Text Msg Timothée: I hope you’re okay, you seemed strange going away. Want to talk? By the way, you did well in tonight’s performance, you should try harder. Me: Says my angel, how are you? I am well, of course I am. [laughs nervously and it was noticeable] I was just nervous to have to act for Dolan and know that I will see myself on a movie screen, even if at closed angles. By the way, Mr. Chalamet, thank you very much. I have the seal of approval that interests me hahah Msg of text Timothée: I like it. See you tomorrow? Me: Yes, of course, until tomorrow! Msg of text Timothée: [video uploaded]

Part 3

Day 51 - Ecstasy, landscape of the soul. November 29th, 2023, Sunday morning. I don’t know how to write about how last night went.. I was upset, but I remember everything. I won’t be able to keep this journal after that I’ll tell. We were all gathered at Dolan’s house, drinking and laughing a lot, toasting to finish this incredible project. I already felt completely dizzy and with the warm body, things kept spinning in my head, it was so beautiful. He wore a leather jacket over the green sweatshirt, had a golf cap (Odd Future) hanging on one of the pants straps where his belt was, the black jeans almost on his knee and a red vans, and that hair.. that hair! It’s like a restless ocean. I was wishing to walk across the room and kiss him again with all the intensity that belongs to me, he would like it this time. My body was on fire, suddenly I was frozen, it’s coming toward me. I knew I could spoil any conversation by being totally random and awkward, I was dying of shame in advance. Timothée: Are you happy? Me: Sure, congratulations! You did a great job, I’m very proud of all of you. Timothée: Thank you, but none of this would have been the same if you weren’t on the team, right? Me: Right! [Cheers] [Silence] Timothée: What are you thinking right now? Me: Who you are, Where you’re from, don’t care what you Did as long as you love me..[I started singing As Long As You Love Me by the Backstreet Boys, really?] Timothée: Oh my God! [He laughed almost for the world to hear]. Are you going to Julie’s with Céline? There’s going to be a vegan class. I’d like a pizza, okay? Me: Look.. I also wanted a pizza instead of vegan food.. But I’m getting dizzy and I think I’m gonna go home and do my drunken show in the shower. Timothée: Ah.. Right, you’re dizzy, but you still know how many fingers you have here? [He did an 8 with his fingers] Me: Yes, of course. I’m fine, man, I’m weak but not that weak. Give me a skateboard there! [I screamed, and they didn’t take me seriously] Timothée: So.. we can go for a coffee to break the alcohol and fill the stomach with a piece of pizza, what do you think? Me: Wooah! Come on, send world pizza! [I couldn’t say no, I was completely taken. ] We got to what used to be a kind of blinker-light coffee, it had a super-hot vibe. We sat down and made the request, we laughed drunk and said nothing that made sense, I felt our friendship alive again. However, the silence and the exchange of looks came, so we could hear the music that played in the background. It was "And I Love Her" by the Beatles”. Suddenly he began to sing. Timothée: "She gives me Everything and Tenderly. The Kiss my Lover brings, she brings to me and I love her." Me: Yeah.. beautiful music. You sing over and over again better than me. When did you start playing music? [My hands started sweating] Timothée: [he laughed] Are you all right? Me: Timmy. .ah.. I think I’m going home to take another shower, rest and call my family, I don’t know. Timothée: Okay, I’ll accompany you, I can’t let you go back alone so late. Me: You don’t need my angel. I’m a ninja! [I made the shameful gesture of a martial coup and tripped. The truth is I wanted him to insist] Timothée: Without that [laughed] let’s go!

We got to the apartment, he came up with me and put his coat on the couch. I offered him water, am I pathetic? He said he did not want to, but that if possible, he would like to stay. I felt as if we were talking by telepathy, I am not crazy. He feels the same. I said he could stay, even super apprehensive. I took two cigarettes from Kumbaya that I made on Tuesday and shouted from the room "let’s get some air on the balcony while we smoke!?". Upon returning to the room, he had put Cigarettes after sex to play, silently. Nothing but the music. Breaths. Another dose of silence. My body pumped blood with so much speed, [says something] I thought. He touched my right hand and looked at me. Those green eyes made me feel warm inside as never before. I got up the courage to pull him to the balcony that led to the fire escape. The sky was beautiful and the wind touching our faces was like a sky giveaway, I needed that fresh night air. Timothée: Do you need me to say it? I can say it. Me: I know what you’re going to say and I’m terrified. You want me too. Timothée: I want to. You make me feel good. I feel my presence truly when I share a moment with you. "Sometimes I think I’ve felt everything I’m going to feel in my life. And from now on, I won’t feel anything new. " Me: I promise that one day I will feel that everything is right. but it feels so wrong. Man, I feel like I’m living a fanfic, and I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and none of this ever happened, or worse, if it’s real, our friendship being compromised by what’s possibly going to happen here. He put his hands on my face, kissed my forehead. Timothée: The heart is not like a box that fills, L. It expands in size, the more you love someone. I’m different from you. It doesn’t make me love you any less. It actually makes me love you more. I want you. Me: Right.. We are here only briefly, and at this moment I want to allow myself joy. I want that, Timothée. And I promise that one day I will feel like everything is fine. He lovingly bowed to touch his lips to mine. Feeling those soft lips against mine, it was almost like an apocalyptic sensation, the world could end right there, would have no problem. We kissed as we entered through the large window of the room, the first pieces of clothing filling the lonely floor of the room. The music Sunsetz conducted our intimate dance. The words "you have to do the right thing, do the right thing" started to disappear from my head.

I feel overflowing out of the body, sensitive, I am under the effect of exaltation, very intense feelings of joy, pleasure, admiration, reverent awe... Timothée. I truly love him. We are lying on the living room floor, apparently wrapped in a curtain that has been disastrously removed. Timothée, his breath is hot, the sound coming out of his mouth shivers my body. We were like the painting of Egon Schiele - Gli Amanti (L'Abbraccio).

Blackout. Light. The voice of an angel reaches my ear. My eyes open. He looked at me in silence, I could smell his mildly sweet citrus smell all over the room. Its aroma stimulates my sensations. Timothée: I’ll make you a cup of coffee. I’ll be careful with the amount of sugar, it’ll be just the way you like it. Keep lying down, angel. Geez, what happens now? I don’t know, he doesn’t know, you don’t know. Anyway, I feel complete.

#timothée chalamet #tchalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee #fanfic #art #xavier dolan #cigarettes after sex #the beatles #nick drake #backstreet boys #movie #music #bright are the stars that shine

32 notes · View notes

jinkicake · 4 years

Text

Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Akaashi with a bubbly extroverted s/o that is good at hiding her feelings.

TW// Depression, Depressive Thoughts

Truthfully, I found this difficult to write and am not really confident in how it turned out but I hope you still enjoy it! (☍﹏⁰) I liked writing this because I hope it will bring more self-awareness that it is always important to check on your loved ones. If you're ever going through a rough patch please don’t be afraid or embarrassed to reach out, sometimes it is important to just get somethings off your chest. I have my inbox and messages open so please feel free to talk to me.

Also! I listened to EXO’s Beautiful while writing this because the song just makes me feel so light-hearted, it’s like a warm hug for people who don’t like hugs. I recommend you listen to it too!

WC- 2,752

~~~

Akaashi

Akaashi is pretty perceptive of everything, he’s so quiet that it makes him seem like he doesn’t care or he doesn’t pay attention to little details but he does

He notices a lot of things

One of the many reasons he admires you is because of the way you care for your classmates and how easily you get along with them

At first, he thought you had no worries but he would soon notice small changes

He would notice how carefree you look while talking to classmates, he would also notice how your eyes fall whenever you’re done talking to them

Akaashi wouldn’t think much of it until he started noticing more of it every day, how for split seconds he can see your resolve fall

He’d want to ask about it, talk to you but you were so good at keeping a front up that sometimes he wondered if what he noticed was real

If you always looked that tired, if your smile didn’t reach your eyes as it once used to, he can see your eyes are clouded with something but he can’t figure out what

When he finally realizes what’s going on, he’d feel like such a fool for not picking up on it earlier

Akaashi would comfort you with actions more than words, it would be easier for him to just hold you tightly

He is good at using his words though, he would be able to figure out what the best thing to say is and how to easily calm you down

Yet, he’d want you to let it out first before he says anything so he can assess how you feel and find the best ways to comfort you

He’d push his feelings for you aside in exchange for being there for you, sometimes you just need someone to listen

Though over time you'd both acknowledge your feelings for each other, and once he has you, Akaashi would make sure you never feel alone again

You told yourself that you'd never let yourself falter at school and always try your best to remain the friendly student everyone knew you to be. School was a place that distracted you from reality, there you weren’t focused on your own feelings but rather on your friends or your club activities.

Sometimes school helped ease your mind, sometimes it didn’t.

However today was just not a good day, you woke up feeling like shit and it was hard to find the motivation to continue on with your day. When you made it to school you got to talk with your classmates and no matter how much your friends provided you with a great distraction you still felt that nagging voice at the back of your head. Despite having a classroom full of people, friends who care about you deeply, you felt isolated.

That’s how you found yourself in the bathrooms late after school hours, the sink turned up so no one could hear your soft sobs. You tried to calm yourself down, tell yourself it would be okay but stupidly you made the mistake of looking at yourself in the mirror. That only made yourself feel more pathetic and numb.

It makes you think, when was the last time you actually felt something other than pain.

Akaashi finds himself wandering the empty hallways late after volleyball practice, looking for a notebook he swears he left in his desk. When he finally makes it to the classroom he lets out a relieved sigh when the book he had been searching for was under his seat, yet when he bends down to pick it up he notices your bag still hanging on the side of your desk. He thinks back to earlier in the day, how upset you were.

Gentle he lays the notebook on his desk before quietly walking around the hallways, trying to figure out where you would be if you were still here. Maybe you went home and just left your bag? Akaashi shakes his head at that thought, that wasn’t like you.

In the distance, he could hear water running, and he decides to go and turn it off. When he peers inside his heart drops at what he sees, you're leaning over the sink with one of your hands gripping the edge hard while the other covers your mouth. Akaashi knows now that what he noticed earlier in the day was real and he mentally kicks himself for not doing something sooner.

“Y/N?” He gently calls out and you freeze before turning towards him, tears still gushing down your face like there isn’t any sign of stopping. You can’t figure out if you want to kick him out or run into his arms, you don’t want to tell him anything but you want comfort.

“Come here” His voice remains soft and your face contorts as a new wave of pain washes over you, the quick strides over to him feel like nothing when you’re finally in his arms. His heart feels torn, he realizes the way you’re feeling isn’t like ‘Bokuto’s game emo-mode’, it's much more than that.

“I think it will be good for you to tell me what’s on your mind, to acknowledge what’s going on.” Akaashi gently rests one of his hands on the back of your head, holding you close and trying to ignore the way his heart aches whenever a new sob erupts from your throat.

When you finally calm down and explain how you’re feeling, how tired and alone you feel, Akaashi’s eyes would never leave yours.

“Please whenever you feel this way, tell me, let me be there for you.” When Akaashi sees the surprised look in your eyes he feels his face heat up and he pushes your face back into his chest so you won’t see him blush. He'd feel relief when you smile against him and the grip you have on his shirt softens.

It will be okay.

Iwaizumi

Out of the three, Iwaizumi would get the most frustrated, not at you but the world

Having a best friend like Oikawa who can hide his feelings as if they don’t even exist, Iwaizumi would be used to the feeling of hurt when someone he cared about is suffering

When he starts realizing his feelings for you, that he quickly fell for his caring manager, he would start paying more close attention to you

Iwaizumi may seem like he only has three things on his mind at all times; volleyball, Oikawa, and Godzilla but that isn’t the case

He has four things on his mind! Volleyball, you and Oikawa, Godzilla

Even before he knew how he felt about you, he picked up on the way you’d close yourself off after practices when everyone left

After he develops feelings he would worry about you more and more, asking his friends if they noticed anything off with you

They didn’t notice

Iwaizumi would want to know what's wrong and wouldn’t be afraid to ask you about it because he is that worried about you

He might come off rather strong about it

If you start crying he’s holding you in an instant, Iwaizumi wouldn’t leave until you tell him what's wrong

He might seem overbearing but he that isn’t his intention, he just wouldn’t want you to bottle up your feelings

If you tell him that you don’t want to burden him, Iwaizumi would get upset

Your feelings matter to him and he’d hate for you to feel so terribly

When you tell him, Iwaizumi would be so much softer around you

Iwaizumi’s heart is as big as the size of his massive **ck (sorry could not resist)

He was always soft, let's be real it’s Iwa-chan but, he is much more gentle when he notices you're in a bad spot

Iwaizumi will always be there for you and will take care of your heart as best as he can because he knows depression isn’t something that will go away overnight

Overall, where is my Iwaizumi I genuinely need one

Iwaizumi’s eyes followed you as you move throughout the gym, you are picking up stray volleyballs and chatting easily with Kindaichi and Kunimi. His eyebrows furrow together as he watches you carefully, narrowing his eyes as if to pin you in place. Hanamaki snaps him out of it as he hits the back of the ace’s head with his hand resulting in a choked laugh leaving Matsukawa’s lips.

“What are you looking at?” Hanamaki tosses his hand in front of Iwaizumi’s eyes, waving as if to catch his attention. Iwaizumi swats his hand away and looks at where the spot you were, tilting his head in confusion when he doesn’t notice you there anymore.

“Anyways dumbass you walking home with us? Oikawa is throwing a hissy fit cause he wants to go home and start his stats homework.” Hanamaki tosses over his shoulder as he starts walking towards the gym doors yet Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Iwaizumi glances over at his two friends who shrug and walk out of the gym. As the tallboy makes his way over to the supply closet he notices the gym is nearly empty. Everyone has left except the two of you, you always stay late to finish cleaning or put away equipment.

A perfect manager.

“Oh, Iwaizumi! What’s up?” You smile brightly at him as you finish folding clean towels.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He mumbles, staring at the floor as heat floods to his cheeks. You let out a laugh as you try to mask your nerves.

“Mmm about what?” Your hands slightly shake as you finish folding the last towel and you nearly fall over at the sigh that leaves his lips.

“Are you okay?” His question makes you blink rapidly, your brain running to find excuses for why he is asking you this. Deep down, you always wanted someone to ask, to check up on you but now that it's finally happening you’re not sure what to do. “You just seemed not like yourself.”

“Huh? What do you mean Iwaizumi?” You try to laugh it off but by the hard eyes that meet yours, you're not getting out of this easily. “I’ve just been tired recently, don’t worry about it!”

“But I am worried about it, I’m worried about you.” Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck and glances to look over at the wall rather than your face.

 “What?” You’re starting to feel corned but you try to hide it, giving him a wobbly smile.

“I know something has been bothering you.” He pushes and you find yourself taking a step back, bumping into the table that you had just put the towels on. “You can tell me.”

You smile at his kind words, not sure how to react to them.

“I don’t want to push my problems onto you Iwaizumi, don’t worry about it!” You press harder this time, the fakest smile resting on your lips.

“I want to know, I want you to tell me.” He repeats, giving you consent and you nearly wince at this.

“I’ve just felt alone recently.” The words fall from your lips in a hushed whisper as you rub your sweater sleeve. “Shitty and alone.” You laugh and a sad smile paints your lips as your eyes stay trained on the floor.

“(Y/N),” Iwaizumi breathes out and you turn your face to hide from his pitiful gaze. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling that way.”  

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Iwaizumi’s words make your head snap up and you press your lips together not to cry. “Listen, I’m always here for you.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him in shock at the intimate words.

“We all are, Oikawa, Makki, hell even Mattsun!” He gently grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. “Always, we care about you so much and-“ Iwaizumi glances at the floor trying to think his words carefully. It would be wrong for him to confess his feelings right now, it would be selfish, he thinks.

“We never want to see you hurt like this.” This time you give Iwaizumi a genuine smile and wrap your arms around his body, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Whenever you feel bad, please come to me.” You nod at his words and his arms wrapped around your shoulders squeeze you tightly. Iwaizumi doesn’t let go until you’re ready, he continues to hold you tightly against him until he knows you feel better.

Kuroo

Growing up with a best friend like Kenma who is self-aware of everything around him, Kuroo has the habit of picking up on small changes in a person

When you first started dating, Kuroo became almost hyper-aware of how easily you hide your feelings and he feels like an idiot that he didn’t pick up on it before

He’d wait for you talk to him about it, unless he thought something was really upsetting you, he doesn’t want to push you

Since you’re good at hiding how you feel, Kuroo would gently try to get you to open up

You can take as long as you want and he’d listen to it all, comforting you the best he can

Whenever you feel particularly down, Kuroo would try to help you ease your mind, take you places and do random activities

Spontaneous late-night convenience store run, anyone?

If you would rather stay inside and just hide, he’d do it with no hesitation, he’d hold you tightly until you’re pushing him off

When it comes down to it, Kuroo is just naturally a caring person

He might seem like a petty volleyball player but he cares about your feelings more than anything

“What’s wrong kitten?” Kuroo peers down at you as you both rest on the empty train. It’s late in the evening, the city just settling down. You hold your frown, cheeks puffed out as you stare hard at the seats in front of you. The way the city lights light up the darkness outside makes your heart tug oddly.

The two of you had just come back from hanging out with a few other third years in the city. You were laughing and talking with each of the boys the entire time, even when you two bumped into Daishou -much to Kuroo’s dismay-. It was fun and you had fun yet, there was an odd feeling settling in your chest. Softly, you lean your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder before mumbling out a response.

“My social battery just ran out.” You slowly draw shapes on his clothed leg with your fingertip. Kuroo frowns at this, he is used to 'social batteries' with both you and Kenma but something else is bothering you. When you glance up at him you can see the knowing looking in his eyes and you shift uncomfortably.

“I got into a fight with my family this morning, I just feel like I’m destroying my relationship with them.” You let out a shaky breath as tears well up in your eyes and you glare harder at the ground like it’ll make them disappear. “I keep being mean to them but I can’t control it, I don’t mean to do it, I just feel so shitty.”

Quickly you cover your face with your hands, trying to hide away as humiliation floods through your veins at your own words and feelings. A warm hand wraps around your wrist and you shake your head stubbornly.

“Look at me (Y/N).” Kuroo’s voice is soft and you feel more tears well up in your eyes at this. “It’s okay.”

And the tears finally fall, soaking your skin with salty trails.

“It is,” An arm wraps around your shoulder to bring you into his chest, tightly holding you as if you’ll slip out of his grasp. “You might not feel good now but you’ll feel better with time. I’ll help you, you’re not alone.”

His words provide you with a comfort you’d never felt before and you nod your head against his shirt.

“You might not believe me but it’s true.” Gently, Kuroo cups your cheek with his warm hand and forces you to look up at him. His eyes are unbelievably soft as he stares down at you before he leans down to rest his forehead against yours.

You’re glad at this moment that the train car is practically empty but even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter because you feel safer in his arms than anywhere else.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #akaashi keiji x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu kuroo #angst #comfort fluff

723 notes · View notes

colorfullfalls · 4 years

Text

Blast to the past

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Summary: Soulmates are very tricky because sometimes two people who are meant to be are born in two different generations. Your soulmate can be born three days after you die. Luckily the mystical universe transports you there to meet yours. That’s how you find yourself back in the 1960’s instead of the present.

Warnings: hinting at sexual assault

~~~~~~

Friday night is ladies night. It has been since you were twelve and it will be until you die. The core group gets together and does whatever seems interesting for the evening. The three of you ranged in activities of going to the movies, getting something to eat, thrifting, people watching, getting coffe and sitting at an empty park- you name it and it’s been done.

Tonight the gang decided to get smoothies and sit in an empty parking lot. The small town didn’t allow much entertainment for freshly graduated adults. Especially for adults that wanted more to life than such a simple place could provide.

Claire laid on the pavement, dark hair swirling around her shoulders as she turned to gaze at the moon. She was beautiful in the moonlight, soft skin glowing. You were always jealous of her unique good looks, but never aimed bitter thoughts at her. She was a warm and loving friend who was literally a ride or die.

Claire turned her head to look at Margo who was sitting upright with her keys in hand, twirling them around her hands. Margo was the wild one of the trio. The jokester who was basically a meme lord. You three fit like puzzle pieces, best friends for ever.

Claire and you shared a look of amusement as Margo dropped her keys, mumbling a quiet shit before laughing and picking them back up to repeat her actions.

“This is supposed to be a quiet, soul searching moment you know.” You deadpanned, lips curling into a smile as Margo rolled her eyes and flipped you off.

“If you wanted quiet then you picked the wrong bitch to bring along.”

Claire shook her head, “Okay, let’s post on snap about a replacement bitch. Preferably one that can be silent at times.”

You shifted so that your legs were pulled up in front of you instead of rested against the cold ground of the parking lot. A funny thing to add popped into your mind and you knew it would make them laugh, “There’s one more requirement though. It’s vital.” You added, swirling the contents in your cup to break up the remaining blotches of ice.

“Hmm?”

“They have to be willing to sacrifice their own life for Pakistan”

Claire busted out laughing hitting her cup off her leg and Margo snorted, causing everyone to laugh even harder. That fucking tik tok would never not be funny to you guys. Especially when their soulmates thought it was hilarious and would say it when you guys failed to.

Claire found her soulmate a year ago at a football game. Her soul mark burned when the cute player from the other team bumped into her after the game. Gage was the coolest dude you knew. He treated you guys like best friend and he treated her like she was the sky, the moon, and the stars. Not long after Claire found him, Margo found Naomi. A badass chick that was a tattoo artist in town. Margo now has little tattoos decorating her body from the designs her soulmate came up with. Naomi and Margo just fit, and you were happy for her. Happy for both of them.

Day after day with no luck of finding your other half, you were starting to despair for yourself. Soulmates usually found each other close to adulthood if they were in the right life time. It was disappointing to go to bed every night knowing that you were still alone. Your best friends loved you more than anything and always included you, but the soulmate connection was different- special above everything else. And here you lacked that.

Margo dropped her keys again but left them there. She picked up on your solemn mood after you didn’t talk for a few moments.

“I wanted to go camping this weekend, maybe you’ll find your lover there?” She softly spoke, giving you a hopeful smile.

You sadly smiled back, “I dunno, probably not. Sorta giving up over here.”

You looked down at the simple soul mark. An old pop bottle was the initials S.P in the middle with the letters DX very small on the bottom left underneath it. Marks were supposed to signify something important about your other half, describe something about them to you. Ever since you were old enough to remember you would buy old fashioned pop in order to collect the bottles. It meant the world to you.

“Don’t say something like that, of course you will meet them dude. We found ours early but that didn’t mean you won’t ever find them. I’m sure your other half is right around the corner.” Claire supported, patting your thigh for comfort.

“Yeah, it could be Harry Styles for all we know. And honestly it would make sense because how the hell do you meet someone famous like that?” Margo trailed off.

You scoffed, “Harry Styles- my ass. His indicator would so not be an old pop bottle. It would be a guitar or something like that.”

“I guess so. Point is, don’t fret. You have time. The world may fuck with people, but not good ones like you.” Margo grinned childishly.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am good. I sacrifice my own life for Pakistan.”

“God dammit, I hate you.” Claire stood up and offered a hand, pulling you both upright, “We better get going. The same cop has been driving by and I don’t like it.”

“ACAB.” Margo chanted as she crawled into the backseat of the car. You laughed and pushed her the rest of the way in with your foot before shuffling in yourself.

‘Best friend’ by Rex Orange County blared through the speakers as the car moved on the damp roads in the dark night. You guys sang loudly, hands out the window to feel the wind ripple against fingertips. Your heart filled with adoration of the girls in the vehicle with you. Getting sad about the soulmate thing sucked but dealing with it was easier when you had two people to assure you and take your mind off of it.

You waved bye as you walked up the steps of your house. You quickly noticed that no one else was home. Your siblings were off with their friends for the night and your parents went out for their anniversary. You sighed, taking your shoes off lazily. A warm bath would feel so nice to finish out the day. You stretched before taking a step forward toward the bathroom but your foot caught underneath the rug and you fell face first onto the hard surface of the tile.

****

Your body felt like it was on fire while rolling over to rest on your back. Forcing your eyes open, you gasped at the sight before you. Instead of laying on the bathroom floor, you were in an empty parking lot. Your heart thud roughly in your chest as you scrambled to stand.

Your mind began to panic as you didn’t recognize your surroundings. An old diner sat across from the lot and it wasn’t the one you, Claire, and Margo sometimes went to. You brushed yourself off and looked around, confused as to what was going on. Had you gotten drunk and imagined you were home and somehow managed to get lost? Did you fall so hard that you passed out and got kidnapped? Sharp pains alerted your mind to put a finger to your face. There was a scratch from where you fell, you must’ve hit it. You were just glad that your wallet was still in your hand but your phone wasn’t. You searched for it but no luck.

You meekly opened the diner door and shuffled inside. It was themed to be an old authentic diner. The usual black and white checkered floor tile, the twisty barstools, and the car sign decorations on the wall. Diners like this were adorable in your eyes.

You went to sit at a both and grabbed the young pretty waitress. She gazed at your clothes in confusion which made you internally frown. Your outfit wasn’t inappropriate or anything. Blue khaki shorts that came above mid thigh and a white and blue tie dye shirt.

“Excuse me, where am I?” You asked, embarrassment creeped up your spine as she gave you an old look.

“Tulsa. Are you lost?” She asked, shifting the tray to rest on her hip.

You quickly shook your head no, “Thank you, I’m not lost. Just uh, traveling. I’ll just have a water please.”

She gave you a funny look but nodded, going to get you the cup of water. Everyone in the diner glanced at you in curiously which made you paranoid. Alone without a phone and no escape plan. Not an ideal set up. You tried to rack your brain for what the hell was going on but you were outta luck.

Water was set down on the table and she stood there, observing you. You felt her eyes staring at your piercings, especially the hoop in your nose. You awkwardly looked up at her and smiled, hoping she would go away.

“That’s an odd looking necklace, Miss.” Her hand casually pointed towards the crystal gem necklace hanging between your breasts over your shirt.

You shrugged, “You’ve never seen them before? They sell them at Walmart or any hippy store really.”

She wrinkled her nose in judgement, “Huh, never heard of Walmart. Must be from wherever you’re from.”

You choked on air, coughing loudly to force oxygen back into your lungs. How could someone now know Walmart? Was she fucking with you right now? Waitresses usually weren’t rude unless you were rude to them first.

“They’re like nation wide? One in every town? Seriously, every town.”

No emotion appeared on her face as she shook her head no, “I still don’t know what you’re talking about... do your parents buy you those shorts? Do they care about your nose ring?”

You squirmed in your seat at her question, her voice carried a shrill tone that let you know that she didn’t approve. Jesus, did this girl think you should be in a full body suit without showing skin? You pulled them down subconsciously to try to hide some of your upper thigh. As for your nose ring, you were baffled as to why your that was an issue. So many women had them.

“I bought the shorts, but they don’t have an issue with them if that’s what you’re trying to get at? They think the nose ring is cute too. My parents are very cool with me choosing to do what I wish with my body.”

Her eyes widened in a holy-cow-you’re-crazy sorta way, “My parents would kill me if I looked like you.”

A dry laugh escaped your lips at her harsh words. And they were harsh, whether she met them to be or not. Putting women down wasn’t what you stood for and you really thought that the world was passed shaming people for what they look like.

“It’s twenty-twenty , they shouldn’t care about what you look like. Acceptance is key to a happy family.”

“What’s that mean?” She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Twenty-twenty what is that?”

You glanced at the table to your left that was intently listening in on the conversation. You felt uncomfortable in the booth. Two guys stared shamelessly at your legs and you wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

“The year? It’s two thousand and twenty?”

She threw her head back, blonde hair following to fall down her back, “You really are an odd ball.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s nineteen sixty nine, dear. Your cheek is bleeding and I’m assuming you fell because you’re acting crazy.” She quietly said, bending down to your eye level. A part of you wanted to hit her so hard that she fell down. Condescending attitudes rubbed you the wrong way to say the least.

You were fuming as you took two dollars out and put them on the counter, “Have a good evening.” You gritted out.

***

The cold night air pinched your skin as you walked aimlessly around the small town. You came to the conclusion that it was 1969 and you realized why the waitress was so taken back by your appearance. Girls in the sixties probably didn’t have shorts this short or nose piercings. It all made sense as you took in the town. The old styled cars, how people dressed, hell- how they talked. Old ass terms that people only used as a joke now.

So yes, you were in the past, but how and why. Watching Shameless in your bed right now seemed like heaven on earth. Your mom and dad’s faces haunted your mind when you thought about never getting to see them again. Tomorrow they would get back only to see that you have disappeared without a trace. Your dad will be so worried and heartbroken and your mom will be calling everyone to ask if they saw you.

And what would Claire and Margo think? You just knew they would feel so guilty for not knowing when they were the last ones you saw. Hurting them only hurt you more.

You found an old tree and sat down against it, letting the tears splash down your face. It was cold out from the brisk air and you had nothing to layer up with. This sucks, mega sucks, you noted.

An old red Ford Mustang parked on the road and two men got out of the car and headed your way. You clutched your wallet close to your chest in predetermined fear. Two men walking towards any woman would make that woman scared. It was a built in instinct that still wasn’t gone in the twentieth century. Especially with the men from this time. You knew women weren’t truly equal yet and they especially weren’t in this time.

They had on khaki pants and different colored polyester sweaters. Same guys from the diner that were watching you. Horrible look in their eyes as they stood in front of you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you sitting out here alone for? It’s late.” The one wearing a yellow sweater asked. His hair was brown and smoothed back, you were unable to see his eyes in the dark. He bent down to look at you in a way you didn’t appreciate. You were not having it.

“Really? Is it late? Couldn’t tell, not like the moon’s out or anything.” You retorted, shifting further back into the tree.

“Woah, no need to get lippy with me, hun.” He said, looking back at the other guy with the red sweater. Red shook his head to agree with yellow.

“Let’s not get comfortable with the nicknames. I’d say I’d call the cops but hah, ACAB... not that you would know about that.” You trailed off. You rambled when you got nervous and it was not a good feature.

“ACAB? You’re a weird one, aren’t you?” Red said, leaning down too.

“Weird, but an absolute doll. Not many girls ‘round here show skin like you.” Yellow said, hand grabbing your thigh.

Your hand slapped his away lightening fast before jumping up and backing away. You took your shoe off and held it up in defense, “Go fuck yourself! Get away from me.”

The men looked at each other in shock, assumingly at the vulgar words that escaped your pretty lips. You backed further away until you felt safe enough that you put your shoe back on and ran. You heard their feet shuffle in the grass as they ran after you.

You turned down an alley way and tripped again on a stick in the middle of the road, the boys were suddenly visible meaning you would not have time to get up and run. Instead of trying to escape, you grabbed said large stick and grasped it tightly between your hands. You wish Margo and Claire were by your side right now. You could do anything with them.

“A stick? Really? We just wanna spend some time with you.” Red said, walking closer.

“Fuck this! Fuck this so hard! Fuck toxic masculinity that makes pricks like you think it’s okay to do shit like this! Systematically you were probably raised to think chasing a woman is okay- judging from the car that you have money. Kids with money, especially in these days, are spoiled and never told no, but I don’t want you. Leave.” You shouted, twirling the stick like you saw so many times in Starwars movies. You saw the two men slowly step back and you were proud of yourself for fending them off until you heard another masculine voice behind you.

“You soc scum need to bounce.”

You moved to the side to be equally separated from whoever was behind you. A man about your age stood firmly beside two others that looked a few years off, one younger and one older.

The one that spoke was standing in the front and boy, he was beautiful. Dark hair slicked black to rest comfortably against his neck. He wore a blue and white flannel with blue jeans. His body was slim but you just knew he had some lean muscle on him. Red and yellow turned and walked away but not without making some derogatory claims about greasers.

You panted, finally breathing again as you doubled over, stick still firmly grasped in between your palms and fingers.

“Are you okay?” You heard the same voice quietly ask. You noticed they were standing right in front of you now. You meekly looked up to gaze into his pretty blue eyes. He hissed out in pain as he looked at his arm at the same exact moment that your mark started to burn so bad that you couldn’t take it. A searing pain ripped through every single one of your cells. You did it! You finally found your fucking soulmate! Without being able to stand the pain and excitement, your body tumbled forward for the second time that evening.

~~~

You heard rustling going on around you, but you clenched your eyes in fear that you wake up still stuck in the past.

“If I open my eyes and I’m not home, I’m gonna throw hands with whatever God there is.” You mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. The handsome man sat on the floor by your face, causing you to yelp and quickly move to a sitting position, hand clinging to your necklace.

“Hey, calm it, I won’t hurt you.” His gentle voice spoke. You laughed nervously as it hit you that he was your soulmate. Your life was fucked, oh so fucked. Sure, you found the one, but in a different decade!

“The world is a cruel place.” You muttered, hands removing from your necklace to rub down your face in irritation, “My life is a joke.”

He sat up on his knees, cautiously moving closer towards you as if you were a scared stray cat that he was attempting to take home to keep and take care of. You internally gagged at the idea of being kept inside as a house wife now that you were living in this time. You could not survive like that.

“It’s not. Usually people are happier to find their soulmate, yanno? I’m happy... I thought you would be.” His voice seeped with disappointment and pain.

You sighed as you felt his sadness creep up your bones and invade your sanity, “I would be thrilled if I wasn’t transported back in time. I’m not kidding, I’m from year twenty twenty. I can show you.”

You grabbed your wallet and ripped your lisence out, showing him. His eyes squinted as he read your birthday and the date you got it. His eyes enlarged as he looked back at you.

“That- that’s just impossible.”

You snorted, “S’what I thought too. Guess the universe really shoved us together on this one... and uh, thanks for saving me earlier, my inner jedi isn’t strong enough yet- I’m no obiwan.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I don’t know what that means.”

You blushed, “Big movie franchise that eventually comes out. I’ll try to avoid pop culture references... my bad.”

He smiled, pearly white teeth showing, “you’re really pretty, y/n.”

Your heart raced in your chest at how attractive he was. Claire and Margo would hardgirl swoon with you over him but they’re not here to join you, so you had to soak up his beauty all on your own. And him saying your name like that? God, that would make any girl bust a nut.

“How do you know my name?”

He shrugged, “Saw it when you showed me the date. The name surely suits you. I’m Sodapop, Sodapop Curtis.”

He held his hand out and you hesitantly met his half way as if to give him a handshake, but instead he intertwined your fingers together before moving closer. His skin was so warm against yours and all you wanted to do was pull him closer and bury yourself in his chest. Finally finding him was overwhelming after convincing yourself that you were doomed to be alone.

“Those guys that chased you, we ain’t letting them get away with it. We’ll find them and give ‘em a good what for.” A new voice spoke.

A kid, you guessed to be about 16, stood in the living room doorway, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets. He had longer brown hair like Sodapop, but his eyes were more hazel instead of the pretty blue. You awkwardly smiled, attempting to pull your hand away but Soda tugged it back, stubborn to lose contact so soon. He gave you a sweet smile to reassure you that he wasn’t going to try anything like the two men last night.

“Y/n, this is my brother ponyboy, and that’s my brother Darryl.” Soda said, pointing to the younger kid and the full on man that walked through the front door. You nervously waved with the hand that Soda didn’t claim.

“Hi, thank you guys for saving me... although I think my stick was pretty promising...” You awkwardly spoke making all three of them chuckle softly.

“Better safe than sorry.” Darry said, offering a smile, “Come on, Ponyboy. We will be back.”

Darry signaled Pony to go with him outside, you and Soda sat in silence as you heard the truck doors and the rumbling of an engine pulling away. His thumb grazed over the back of your hand. Your insides felt like they were melting. Sodapop was extremely attractive and you could not believe that you found him. Harry Styles has some competition for sure. Well, maybe that was going far. It’s Harry Styles, no one could really beat him.

“So what’s it like here? What do you do for fun?” You asked, looking around the house. You imagined the houses around to be very similar. Old couches, ancient TVs with the antennae’s, framed photos on the mantles, and the cool old wallpaper. Very similar to the sorta place your grandparents grew up in.

“Play cards every couple nights. Go to the drive in movies when I’m not working. Diner is open late at night so that’s where young folk hangout. We find good times.” He smiled softly, getting lost in his own thoughts, “What’s there to do for you?”

You couldn’t even begin to explain that you lay in your bed watching tik toks off your phone while Netflix plays softly in the background. Or that you quote memes in a parking lot with your friends. Soda would not understand memes at all and that would be a huge struggle because half the shit that came out of your mouth were memes.

“I have fires a lot at my house, we usually sorta just sit there and bullshit for hours but uh then there’s the usual- getting coffee and sitting in a parking lot. Not much to do in my town but eat and go somewhere to hangout...”

“That sounds nice.”

You shrugged, “More people than not get drunk or smoke weed everyday because what the hell else is there to do?”

He quirked an eyebrow, “you do that?”

You shook your head no, “My friends and I drink from time to time but not heavily. And we especially don’t go to parties because those are cesspools waiting to be caught by cops. Well, fuck cops anyway, but..”

You froze when you realized that cops in this time weren’t critized by the public as much. Political climate ranged from your time to now. Soda probably wouldn’t support the LGBTQ community, or if he did he didn’t know much about it. And racism surely lingered in the 1960’s air. You felt sick thinking about fighting barriers that you usually didn’t have to.

“Do girls swear a lot in the future?” He asked timidly, not wanting to upset you but also he was just very curious. He never heard ladies swear and especially not that word.

You snorted at how cute he was, “All the time. It’s normal for us. Trust me, if you are shocked by that you don’t want to imagine the crude things that are said daily..”

His thumb stopped rubbing circles on your hand and your heart faltered. He was probably used to obideint women who were dainty and didn’t outspeak too much. Women in this era were subservient and you could not be further from that. You had quite the mouth on you and your idea would not be oppressed. You graduated pretty high in your class. You were intelligent and political and that was mind blowing to men of this time. What if you were too much for him? You wouldn’t dare change but it would be heart breaking to know that your other half couldn’t take who you are as a person. As a woman.

“What you said about the cops.. what did they do wrong? I mean here they can be annoying but they try to be fair.” He asked, thumb rubbing your skin again. His eyes glanced down at your thighs and you blushed a bit, wishing you would’ve put on your sweatpants instead before leaving to go with the girls.

“If I explained it all, we would be sitting here for days. Long story short; African Americans still aren’t equal and they are murdered by cops at an unequal rate compared to the population size. Protests turned violent and the whole country is a mess. Half the country trusts cops and the other half wants the systematic corruption to be dismantled. Personally, I’m with the latter. So cops aren’t really my heroes. I try to avoid them. Of course my dad disagrees because he’s old fashioned and doesn’t get it, but what’s so hard to get about treating people equally. America’s supposed to be a melting pot so what’s with the racism and harsh divide? Guess the founding fathers only meant equality when it came to every white man- and that’s bullshit.”

You stopped rambling to see that soda was grinning from ear to ear at you. You gave him a questioning look. “Did I miss something?”

“You are wicked smart with politics. Wiser than anyone I know, prettier than anyone I know.”

~~~

Three weeks later you found yourself walking through the library with ponyboy, fingers grazing over every book you walked past. Books were little keys to jump inside different worlds. You wished you could find a book from 2020 that would magically transport you back. You found Soda, but at what price? You wanted to go home where you had control over your life. You were lost here.

“Any book recommendations? I’m sure you had to read a lot of these.” The youngest Curtis asked as you rounded the corner.

“Hmm, ever read any Tolkien books? Like The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings Trilogy?”

“No.”

“Awh, goodie, I get to be your mentor for this. Basically these are the best damn books that you will ever read. Bit lengthy but the detail is beautiful.”

He gently took the Hobbit in his hands, one gripping the back while the other flipped through the pages, examining how many there were before he tucked it under his arm, affirming that he would take a stab at it.

“What’s it about? Is it girly stuff- not that I mind really.”

Ponyboy was unlike the rest of the gang. He was a little softy that you wanted to hide from the world in order to protect him. The gang protected him physically but his feelings were usually punched, as much as Soda tried. Ponyboy felt things differently and deeply. He was in touch with literature and his life revolves around movies and books. You imagined how much he would adore the twentieth century with how much content there would be for him.

You crossed your arms and shifted your weight to one foot, “It’s a fantasy set up. So like elves, dwarves, hobbits, trolls, orcs, shapeshifters, magic, and I’m sure there’s more but my mind is blanking here. I promise it’s worth it. And I can explain as you read.”

“You’re a nerd?”

His innocent question made you laugh, “I guess you could say that, bud. Give it a shot and if you don’t like it, so be it,” you muttered this part to him, “although no one can resist middle earth’s charm.”

“What’s middle earth?”

“Where it takes place, it’s like another version of earth basically. But hey! You’re already so interested. Soon enough you’ll be wishing you were an elf slaying orcs too.” You joked, jabbing him in the side, “and if you say you wanna be a dwarf instead, you’re dead to me.”

He smiled, “what if I like the humans more? What then?”

“Then, I would consider you an absolute freak. Humans in this are like mediocre. Well, in the hobbit at least. Lord of the Rings they are more of a key part, but they’re so boring compared to the other cultures. Unless you like boring?” You raised an eyebrows at him.

“No, I ain’t boring. And I don’t like boring either.” He stubbornly said, walking side by side with you to go check your books out.

You grabbed a few random books that you wanted to check out. Soda worked and he refused to let you go anywhere alone, so you and Ponyboy just read a lot. It was summer vacation so he was outta school and had all the time in the world. You liked hanging out with the kid.

The two soc boys were standing by the counter when you guys got there. You huffed as the one winked at you. In that moment you wished you were legolas with a dagger and could gut him.

“Surprise seeing you here, considering I doubt you guys are literate.” You spoke, smiling at the librarian as you handed her the books.

“Surprise seeing you here with only the kid, we’ve heard you’re shaking up with Sodapop now. Looks like the greaser found his soulmate.”

The derogatory term aimed at Soda fueled your veins with rage. Blood rushed into your head at the idea that these guys thought they were above Soda, who was the kindest man you knew. Your heart told you to call them motherfucking cunts but your brain warmed you that it wasn’t a good choice. You glanced over and noticed that Pony looked as mad as you. If you retaliated, you wouldn’t get beat up but if he did, he would go home bloody while you trail behind him with a guilty face. You would give them a little talk.

You blew air out of your mouth before turning around to them, “Boys, I don’t know if you keep up with the news or not, but Vietnam is an ugly war filled with horrible people. Do you know what soldiers see? People being burned alive, dogs getting shot down, bombs obliterating people, women in villages getting raped, and most importantly you watch the men you grew to love die right before you.”

The two men stared at you wide eyed as you paused to grab the books from the librarian who was also now listeninf to you.

“Drafts are inevitable, and you know what? War doesn’t care who you are; greaser or soc. The enemy won’t stop to ask your financial stability before ending your life. The boys who you deem greasers could be the ones to save you from dying. Maybe try being nice because you never know who you will end up with on that field.”

Ponyboy’s mouth opened in shock when the two socs slowly back away and left without a single word. You hummed in victory before ushering the younger boy out of the building with you.

“Where did you hear those things? Darry keeps up with that stuff and I never heard nuthin like that.” Ponyboy asked after a few minutes.

You guys walked through the gate of the house but you halted before the steps, “A lot about the war is exposed after it ends. We learned about it in school. I used it against them as a wake up call. Try not to worry too much about it.”

Pony slowly nodded, “okay.”

The door opened and two-bit shuffled out the door with a beer can in his left hand, right hand wedged in his pocket.

“You guys are in trouble.” He sang as pony pushed him out of the way and walked into the house. Two-bit walked off the porch and turned to head home. He didn’t wanna be present for the yelling.

Soda and Darry’s heads snapped to the door and you held the books tighter to your chest to hide yourself. You two forgot to leave a note where you were going and now you were going to get scolded.

“Where the hell have you two been? It’s past 8:00.” Darry scolded, throwing down the newspaper that been in his hands.

You looked to Soda for help but even he shook his head to signal that he was just as upset. You handed the books to Pony before holding your hands up in surrender.

“Oh no, you caught us. We were at the library.” You joked, quickly knocking the smile off your face when the two older Curtis boys glared at you.

“Not funny. Anything could’ve happened to you.” Soda reprimanded. Your soulmate was always worried for you when he wasn’t around. He knew how horrible soc could be and they clearly had an interest in you. It was bad enough being away from you, but getting home to you and his kid brother not there made his nerves fly through the roof.

“Socs aren’t a worry when she’s around, trust me.” Pony mumbled, setting the books down on the table.

“Whats that mean? Did those socs bother you again, Y/N?” Soda suddenly was in front of you, checking your body for any cuts or bruises. You smacked his hands away.

“No, simmer down, I’m fine.” You said, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Then what happened!”

“She shut them down with her wit before they could even start. Those soc didn’t know how to respond so they turned around and walked right away.” Pony explained.

“What did you say?” Darry asked, slightly amused. He liked you very much and was glad that such an extraordinary woman was meant for his little brother.

You shared a look with pony to silently tell him to shut up about what you really said, “Nothing that’s important. What does matter is that Ponyboy got a bunch of books that he should be reading.”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “You want me to read so you can talk to me about elves.”

You nodded, “Well yeah, they’re the best part so get to it! Once you start you will love it.”

Ponyboy nodded before picking up the books and heading towards his shared room with Soda to begin reading. You smiled as you watch him go. You knew deep down that he was excited to read but didn’t want to make it seem like he was. He liked to taunt you with your taste in movies and books but you knew he really did agree.

“You baby him more than Soda does.” Darry stated, giving you a teasing glance.

“I don’t baby him.” Soda argued, glaring at his older brother.

“You do, Soda. Darry’s right though, I baby him a lot but I can’t help it. Pony’s a good kid that’s curious about the world. Reminds me of my best friend back home... I am sorry that we didn’t leave a note, we didn’t even think about it.” You admitted, grabbing Soda’s hand and intertwining it with his. He melted into your touch and you could tell that he wasn’t mad anymore. He couldn’t stay mad at you even if he tried.

“I know, I know. Just try to be more careful.” Darry softly spoke, “I’m headed to get a shower and go to bed. Don’t let Pony stay up too late.”

Soda muttered a yes and goodnight as you saluted Darry in a joking way, making the oldest Curtis smile and roll his eyes before going about his way.

As soon as the door was shut you were pulled into Soda’s arms, both wrapped tightly around your midsection as he nosed against your neck. You blushed as you wrapped your arms around him too, smelling the oil and dirt that came with working at the DX. It was an oddly comforting smell. Distinctly him. Your soul mark tingled as he left a soft kiss against the skin of your throat.

“You gave me a real fright, doll.” He softly spoke. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled you closer, his lips grazing your skin with his words, “ just worried when you’re not around, ‘m always thinking about you.”

“I didn’t know you thought about anything other than cars all day,” you poked.

He snorted, “yeah right. As if.”

“I’m so used to my independence that I forgot that here I need to let people know where I’m going.”

He pulled away slightly, “Did your parents not care about your safety?”

You snorted, “They did. Of course they did, but it was so easy to get ahold of them that I could just let them know while I was away. Plus once I turned 17 they stopped really caring what I did as long as I wasn’t doing anything sketchy. And I was always with my best friends.”

“Makes sense. Darry doesn’t care what I do if I’m with Steve...”

You pullled away and picked up one of the books to start reading it, “He should be the most concerned when you’re around that boy.”

You sat on the couch and held the book in your lap as you gave him a pointed look. He rolled his eyes. You and Steve sorta got along. He was nice and all to you, but he was a dick to ponyboy and that wasn’t appreciated. He walked to the kitchen to get a pop.

Minutes later he sat beside you on the couch, glancing down at the words splashed across the pages. He skim read but the book didn’t seem that great to him.

“Y/n?”

“Hmmm, soda?” When he didn’t reply you half way shut the book and turned to him, “what’s up?”

“Does it ever bother you that you’re so much smarter than me?”

Your heart burned at his question. Soda had a complex that he was stupid because he dropped out of high school. Everyone knew he did it because of his situation in which he tragically lived. Darry couldn’t do everything on his own and soda knew that. He sacrificed his future for the better of his small family. He wasn’t dumb.

“Education changes through years, so a lot of new material has been taught to me that you wouldn’t have known.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and slunk down in the cushion, “Come on, for real. Doesn’t it bother you that I’m a drop out?”

You set the book down and shifted so that your hands wrapped around his right bicep. You leaned your head on his shoulder. He didn’t look at you, instead he was staring holes into his bedroom door.

“Sometimes I feel like you should’ve been Ponyboy’s soulmate instead of mine.” He softly spoke, “He’s brilliant.”

“Oh my god, Soda. Can it. The universe wouldn’t send me decades back to find you if we weren’t meant to be. Not one part of me cares that you didn’t finish high school. You’re Soda. The smart man who takes care of his family. Does it bother you that I’m brainless when it comes to cars?”

Soda gave you a look like you were insane, “I don’t mind at all.”

“See, it doesn’t matter. I don’t see you as dumb and I wish you would stop seeing yourself that way too.”

Ponyboy walked into the living room, blonde hair messy as if he was playing with it. His cheeks were flushed from sitting under blankets and he looked a bit sleepy. Reading always made him a bit tired from how at peace he was, which was rare in his current life.

“Y/N, I don’t know how to feel about Bilbo. He seems good but he also seems a little selfish.” He said, eyes skimming along some of the words.

You smiled, “He’s a really pure character. You’ll grow to enjoy him. What part did you get to?”

Just like that Soda was in a better mood. Watching you speak so happily and effortlessly to his little brother about a book made his heart soar. Sometimes he felt like he couldn’t connect with Pony like he wanted to. And where he was lacking you were there to make up for it.

A few hours later Soda sweetly kissed you goodnight before retiring to his shared room with Pony. You snuggled into the couch with blankets wrapped around you.

~~~

Opening your eyes you saw that you were laying in your bed instead of the Curtis’ couch. Panic flood through your veins at the idea of returning home without the boys. Your heart was racing out of your chest as you looked at the decorations on your wall. A place that felt like your safest place was now a personal hell.

You wanted to return home but not without Soda, Pony, Darry, Two-bit and even Steve. God, you had to have been especially emo if you wished to see Steve more.

The idea of seeing Claire and Margo was beyond relieving but the pain of never seeing Soda again almost cancelled it out. Once again you would be the friend without a soulmate- without a better half. You sighed as angry tears slipped from your eyes. Why did the world have to fuck with you so much? You didn’t have a soulmate, found them in another decade, and then when you grew adapted to the times and people, Mother Earth ripped you back to your old life.

“Hun, why are you crying?” You heard Soda say. You tried to sit up to look for him but a firm arm was wrapped around your middle. Somehow you completely didn’t register that when you woke up.

You struggled to turn around and there he was. Beautiful Sodapop Curtis laying right beside you in your bed. In 2020. His hair was slightly shorter but his kind blue eyes were still the same. He was still the same handsome boy from the 1960’s.

A choked sob escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself as close as you could. Warm skin against yours assured yourself that he was real. This was real. Not some dream that your brain cruelly conjured you in attempt to calm you down.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He softly asked, a hand coming to rub up and down your back. His gesture only made more tears leak out of your eyes. You were so confused. Why wasn’t he freaking out too?

“I don’t know. Where’s Ponyboy and the guys?”

His hand faltered for a moment before he went back to comforting you, his lips pecked your forehead a few times, “They’re at home, probably asleep. Did you have a nightmare about them?”

Your mind was spiraling. Somehow the boys made it here too and soda seemed to not find this weird at all. He was acting like everything was normal.

“What year were you born?” You asked, clutching onto him, trying to remember what his skin felt like against yours.

“1999. Babe, tell me what’s going on. You’re starting to scare me here.” He lightly chuckled, adoring that you were clutching onto him as if he would disappear.

You didn’t know how to explain so you disguised it as a dream, “I had a weird dream, a really realistic one, that I was transported back to the 1960’s and I found you and the guys there. I can’t remember how we met now.”

You felt him shift slightly to get his arm free. He picked up his phone and the screen lit up. His lock screen was a picture of you two in front of a well taken care of old blue camaro.

“We met five months ago at a car show. You were with your grandpa, Claire, and Margo and I was with the boys. My mark burned when I accidently brushed your arm when I passed. We realized what was going on and we got this picture. We’ve been together since.” He recalled easily.

As he spoke, you could faintly see all of this happening in your point of view. How happy you felt when you saw him, the tingling of your mark, gushing internally at how attractive he was, you could even hear Margo cat calling in your head when you two got that picture.

Suddenly memories were dancing around in your brain. Getting Taco Bell together at midnight. Him joining your friend group to sit around the usual fire pit, him making you a s’more when you beg him even though you knew you didn’t have to ask more than once. Him building you the nice wooden shelf in your room that you put your weird Knick knacks on. Him laughing along when you scream “I will sacrifice my own life for Pakistan.” Going over for dinner and watching Lord of the Rings with pony boy.

“It’s all real.” You breathed out, “I’m sorry, that dream just really messed me up..”

He grinned down at you, his lips slowly drifting right above yours until they softly brushed together. Your soul mark tingled in utter delight. His arms slithered around your back as he moved on top of you, “I should be offended that you forgot about all of that, you know.”

You laughed, “Yeah... I’ll make it up to you by being nice to Steve for a whole day.”

He snorted, “wow, a whole day... that might kill you.”

You exaggeratedly nodded, “Honestly. He’s seriously the worst, soda.”

He boyishly smiled as he rolled off of you and stood up, grabbing his jeans and pulling them over his legs. He shoved his hands in each pocket to make them go in. He grabbed his plain black shirt and slid it over his shoulders and then head.

“I have to get home, Pony’s drivers test is in an hour and I’m the one to take him. He’ll for sure pass. I made sure of that. But tonight we will probably get cake to celebrate, the boys are all coming over. You’ll come, right?” He asked grabbing his hat and sliding it on his head.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He winked at you once and leaned over the bed to give you a quick peck, “see you soon, pretty lady.”

You blushed, “see ya soon, handsome.”

He smiled softly before walking out the door. You laid there in the bed in disbelief. Your dream was too real to not be true but at the same time you recalled meeting him in 2020 too.

Either way you were thankful that soda was in the present with you because it was honestly the best of both worlds.

A strong breeze hit the house and your window popped open. A small scrap of paper floated in and landed on your dresser. Your hands smoothed they paper before reading it.

“Sometimes reality changes for people who deserve it.”

#sodapop curtis imagine #sodapop curtis #sodapop #sodapop imagine #outsiders imagine #soulmate au #soulmate imagine

149 notes · View notes